LIBRARY 

OF    THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

ClMS 


v-v/ 

uurmw 


EDUCATION, 


THE  SCHOOl,  AND  THE  TEACHER, 


AMERICAN   LITERATURE 


REPUBLISHED     FROM 

JJarnarb's  gimerkan  |onrital  of 


SECOND     EDITION. 


HARTFORD: 

BROWN    &    GROSS 

1876. 


GENERAL 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

I. — EDUCATION  AND  SCHOOLS .- 1-4 

BUSHNEIX — PAGE — POTTER — WOODBRIDGE — MANN 5 

II. — FACULTIES  AND  STUDIES — Their  Order  and  Method  of  Treatment.  .5-268 
I.  INTELLECTUAL  AND  MORAL  EDUCATION.    By  William  Russell 5-156 

1.  The  Perceptive  Faculties 5 

2.  The  Expressive  Faculties 57 

3.  The  Reflective  Faculties 101 

II.  MORAL  EDUCATION.     By  William  Russell 157-186 

Health— Intellect— Taste— Sensibility— Instinctive  Tendencies 160 

Primary  Emotions — Benignant  Affections — Generous  Affections 165 

Religious  Principles — The  Will — Practical  Virtues — Humane  Virtues 175 

Personal  Qualities — Self  Renouncing  Virtues — Example — Habits 179 

III.  RELIGIOUS  INSTRUCTION.     By  Rt.  Rev.  George  Burgess 187-192 

Intrinsic  Importance — Limitations  in  Public  Schools 187 

IV.  THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDY.     By  Thomas  Hill ,  D.D 193-254 

Mathesis— Physics— History— Psychology  -Theology 196 

V.  THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED.     By  Thomas  Hill,  D.D 245-256 

The  Senses — Inward  Intuition — Memory — Reason — Sensibility — Will 245 

VI.  MIND— OBJECTS  AND  METHODS  OF  ITS  CULTURE.    By  Francis  Wayland,  D.D.  257-272 

1.  Science  of  Education — To  discover,  apply,  and  obey  God's  Laws 259 

2.  Methods  of  training  the  mind  to  these  objects 266 

III.— THE  TEACHER 273-304 

I.  THE  DIGNITY  OF  THB  OFFICE,  AND  SPECIAL  PREPARATION.     By  W.  E.  Channing 273 

II.  THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.    By  Horace  Mann 277 

IV. — NATIONAL  AND  STATE  RELATIONS  TO  EDUCATION 305-336 

I.  EDUCATION  A  NATIONAL  INTEREST.     George  Washington 305 

II.  THE  DUTY  OF  THE  STATE  TO  MAKE  EDUCATION  UNIVERSAL 31 

BISHOP  DOANE — Address  to  the  People  of  New  Jersey 313 

PENN — ADAMS — JEFFERSON — MADISON — JAY — RUSH — KENT 317 

III.  THE  RIGHT  AND  PRACTICE  OF  PROPERTY  TAXATION  FOR  SCHOOL  PURPOSES 323 

D.  D.  BARNARD— Report  to  the  Legislature  of  New  York 323 

DANIEL  WEBSTER— The  early  School  Policy  of  New  England 327" 

HORACE  MANN— The  principles  underlying  the  Ordinance  of  1647 328 

HKNRY  BARNARD— The  Early  School  Codes  of  Connecticut  and  New  Haven 332 

National  Land  Grants  for  Educational  Purposes 334 

V. — VARIOUS  ASPECTS  OP  POPULAR  AND  HIGHER  EDUCATION 337-400 

I.  BISHOP  ALONZO  POTTER,  D.D.,  of  Penn 337 

Consolidation  and  other  Modifications  of  American  Colleges 337 

II.  EDWARD  EVERKTT,  President  of  Harvard  College 343 

Reminiscences  of  School  and  College  Life— Conditions  of  a  good  school. ...  344 

Popular  Education  and  Sound  Science— Moral  Education a50 

Generous  Studies— Homeric  Controversy— Education  and  Civilization 356 

Popular  Education-Boston  Public  Library— Female  Education 361 

HI.  P.  A.  P.  BARNARD,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  President  of  Columbia  College 367 

College  Contributions  to  the  American  Educated  Mind 367 

Sub-graduate  and  Post-graduate  Collegiate  Course— Oral  Teaching 371 

Higher  Scientific  Instruction— Elective  Studies 375 


107499 


AMERICAN  PKDAUOGi'.— F1KST  SEK1KS. 

PAGE. 

IV.  MARK  HOPKINS,  P.D.,  President  of  Williams  College 378 

Education— Self  Education— Female  Education— Academies 878 

Medical  Scieueo— Theological  Education— Colleges 381 

V.  JAMES  K.  FAIRCHILD,  D.D.,  President  of  Oberlin  College 386 

Co-education  of  the  Sexes 3gfj 

VI. — PROFESSIONAL  OR  NORMAL  AIMS  AND  METHODS  IN  TEACHING 401 

I.  JOHN  S.  HART,  Principal  of  State  Normal  School,  Trenton 401 

What  is  Special  or  Professional  Preparation? — Teaching — Training 403 

Recitations— Art  of  Questioning 417 

II.  CYRUS  PIERCE,  Princijtul  of  the  first  State  Normal  School 425 

Aims  and  Methods  in  Training  Pupil-Teachere 425 

III.  NICHOLAS  TILLINGHAST,  Principal  of  State  Normal  School  at  Bridgewatcr. . 431 

Aims  and  Methods  in  Training  Teachers 432 

IV.  J.  W.  DICKINSON,  Principal  of  State  Normal  School  at  Westfield 433 

The  Philosophy  and  Method  of  Teaching  at  Westfield 433 

V.  D.  P.  PACE,  Principal  of  State  Normal  School,  Albany 437 

The  Pouring-in  Process— The  Drnwing-out  Process— Waking  up  of  Mind. .  437 

DR.  WAYLAXD — THOMAS  II.  GRIMKE 447 

Method  of  Recitation  and  Study 448 

VI.  E.  A.  SHELDON,  Principal  of  State  Training  School,  Oswego 449 

Object  Teaching  as  pursued  at  Oswego 

VII.  II.  B.  WILBUR,  Superintendent  of  State  School  for  Feeble  Minded  Youth 

Object  Teaching  as  pursued  at  Oswego 

VIII.  S. W.  MASON,  Principal  of  Hancock  Grammar  School,  Boston -ilk") 

Physical  Exercises  in  School 465 

IX.  M.  F.  COWDERY,  Superintendent  of  Public  Schools,  Sandusky 473 

Formation  of  Moral  Character . .  473 


EARLY  TRAINING. 

APHORISMS   AND   SUGGESTIONS — ANCIENT   AND    MODERN. 


WE  are  physiologically  connected  and  set  forth  in  our  beginnings,  ar.d 
it  is  a  matter  of  immense  consequence  to  our  character,  what  the  connec 
tion  is.  In  our  birth  we  not  only  begin  to  breathe  and  circulate  blood, 
but  it  is  a  question  hugely  significant  whose  the  blood  may  be.  For  in 
this  we  have  whole  rivers  of  predispositions,  good  or  bad,  set  running  in 
us — as  much  more  powerful  to  shape  our  future  than  all  tuitional  and 
regu  ative  influences  that  come  after,  as  they  are  earlier  in  their  begin 
ning  .  deeper  in  their  insertion,  and  more  constant  in  their  operation. 

Here,  then,  is  the  real  and  true  beginning  of  a  godly  nurture.  The 
child  is  not  to  have  the  sad  entail  of  any  sensuality,  or  excess,  or  distem 
pered  passion  upon  him.  The  heritage  of  love,  peace,  order,  continence 
and  holy  courage  is  to  be  his.  He  is  not  to  be  morally  weakened  before 
hand,  in  the  womb,  of  folly,  by  the  frivolous,  worldly,  ambitious,  expec 
tations  of  parents-to-be,  concentrating  all  their  nonsense  in  him.  His 
affinities  are  to  be  raised  by  the  godly  expectations,  rather,  and  prayers 
that  go  before ;  by  the  steady  and  good  aims  of  their  industry,  by  the 
great  impulse  of  their  faith,  by  the  brightness  of  their  hope,  by  the  sweet 
continence  of  their  religiously  pure  love  in  Christ.  Born,  thus,  of  a  pa 
rentage  that  is  ordered  in  all  righteousness,  and  maintains  the  right  use 
of  every  thing,  especially  the  right  use  of  nature  and  marriage,  the  child 
will  have  just  so  much  of  heaven's  life  and  order  in  him  beforehand,  as 
have  become  fixed  properties  in  the  type  of  his  parentage. 

ObserVe  how  very  quick  the  child's  eye  is,  in  the  passive  age  of  in 
fancy,  to  catch  impressions,  and  receive  the  meaning  of  looks,  voices,  and 
motions.  It  peruses  all  faces,  and  colors,  and  sounds.  Every  sentiment 
that  looks  into  its  eyes,  looks  back  out  of  its  eyes,  and  plays  in  miniature 
on  its  countenance.  The  tear  that  steals  down  the  cheek  of  a  mother's 
suppressed  grief,  gathers  the  little  infantile  face  into  a  responsive  sob. 
With  a  kind  of  wondering  silence,  which  is  next  thing  to  adoration, 
it  studies  the  mother  in  her  prayer,  and  looks  up  piously  with  her,  in 
that  exploring  watch,  that  signifies  unspoken  prayer.  If  the  child  is 
handled  fretfully,  scolded,  jerked,  or  simply  laid  aside  unaffectionately, 
in  no  warmth  of  motherly  gentleness,  it  feels  the  sting  of  just  that  which 
is  felt  towards  it ;  and  so  it  is  angered  by  anger,  irritated  by  irritation, 
fretted  by  fretfulness  ;  having  thus  impressed,  just  that  kind  of  impa 
tience  or  ill-nature,  which  is  felt  towards  it,  and  growing  faithfully  into 


2  EARLY  TRAINING. 

the  bad  mold  offered,  as  by  a  fixed  law.  There  is  great  importance,  in 
this  manner,  even  in  the  handling  of  infancy.  If  it  is  unchristian,  it  will 
beget  unchristian  states,  or  impressions.  If  it  is  gentle,  ever  patient  and 
loving,  it  prepares  a  mood  and  temper^like  its  own.  There  is  scarcely" 
room  to  doubt,  that  all  most  crabbed,  hateful,  resentful,  passionate,  ill- 
natured  characters;  all  most  even,  lovely,  firm  and  true,  are  prepared,  in 
a  great  degree,  by  the  handling  of  the  nursery.  To  these  and  all  such 
modes  of  feeling  and  treatment  as  make  up  the  element  of  the  infant's 
life,  it  is  passive  as  wax  to  the  seal.  So  that  if  we  consider  how  small  a 
speck,  falling  into  the  nucleus  of  a  crystal,  may  disturb  its  form  ;  or,  how 
even  a  mote  of  foreign  matter  present  in  the  quickening  egg,  will  suffice 
to  produce  a  deformity ;  considering,  also,  on  the  other*hand,  what  nice 
conditions  of  repose,  in  one  case,  and  what  accurately  modulated  sup 
plies  of  heat  in  the  other,  are  necessary  to  a  perfect  product ;  then  only 
do  we  begin  to  imagine  what  work  is  going  on,  in  the  soul  of  a  child,  in 
this  first  chapter  of  life,  the  age  of  impressions. 

I  have  no  scales  to  measure  quantities  of  effect  in  this  matter  of  early 
training,  but  I  may  be  allowed  to  express  my  solemn  conviction,  that 
more,  as  a  general  fact,  is  done,  or  lost  by  neglect  of  doing,  on  a  child's 
immortality,  in  the  first  three  years  of  his  life,  than  in  all  his  years  of 
discipline  afterwards.  And  I  name  this  particular  time,  or  date,  that  I 
may  not  be  supposed  to  lay  the  chief  stress  of  duty  and  care  on  the  latter 
part  of  what  I  have  called  the  age  of  impressions ;  which,  as  it  is  a  mat 
ter  somewhat  indefinite,  may  be  taken  to  cover  the  space  of  three  or  four 
times  this  number  of  years;  the  development  of  language,  and  of  moral 
ideas  being  only  partially  accomplished,  in  most  cases,  for  so  long  a  time. 
Let  every  Christian  father  and  mother  understand,  when  their  child  is 
three  years  old,  that  they  have  done  more  than  half  of  all  they  will  ever 
do  for  his  character.  What  can  be  more  strangely  wide  of  all  just  appre 
hension,  than  the  immense  efficacy,  imputed  by  most  parents  to  the  Chris 
tian  ministry,  compared  with  what  they  take  to  be  the  almost  insignifi 
cant  power  conferred  on  them  in  their  parental  charge  and  duties.  Why, 
if  all  preachers  of  Christ  could  have  their  hearers,  for  whole  months  and 
years,  in  their  own  will,  as  parents  do  their  children,  so  as  to  move  them 
by  a  look,  a  motion,  a  smile,  a  frown,  and  act  their  own  sentiments  and 
emotions  over  in  them  at  pleasure;  if,  also,  a  little  farther  on,  they  hud 
them  in  authority  to  command,  direct,  tell  them  whither  to  go,  what  to 
learn,  what  to  do,  regulate  their  hours,  their  books,  their  pleasures,  their 
company,  and  call  them  to  prayer  over  their  own  knees  every  night  and 
morning,  who  could  think  it  impossible,  in  the  use  of  such  a  power,  to 
produce  almost  any  result  ?  Should  not  such  a  ministry  be  expected  to 
fashion  all  who  come  under  it  to  newness  of  life?  Let  no  parent,  shift 
ing  off  his  duties  to  his  children,  in  this  manner,  think  to  have  his  defects 
made  up,  and  the  consequent  damages  mended  afterwards,  when  they 
have  come  to  their  maturity,  by  the  comparatively  slender,  always  doubt 
ful,  efficacy  of  preaching  and  pulpit  harangue. 

DK.  BUSIINELL.     Christian  Nurture. 


APHORISMS  ON  EDUCATION.  3 

u  A  virtuous  and  noble  education  "  is  whatever  tends  to  train  up  to  a 
healthy  and  graceful  activity  our  mental  and  bodily  powers,  our  affec 
tions,  manners,  and  habits.  It  is  the  business,  of  course,  of  all  our  lives, 
or,  more  properly,  of  the  whole  duration  of  our  being.  But  since  im 
pressions  made  early  are  the  deepest  and  most  lasting,  that  is,  ajjove  all, 
education  which  tends  in  childhood  and  youth  to  form  a  manly,  upright, 
and  generous  character,  and  thus  to  lay  the  foundation  for  a  course  of 
liberal  and  virtuous  self-culture. 

ALONZO  POTTER.     The  School  and  Schoolmaster. 

Costly  apparatus  and  splendid  cabinets  have  no  magical  power  to  make 
scholars.  As  a  man  is,  in  all  circumstances  under  God,  the  master  of  his 
own  fortune,  so  is  he  the  maker  of  his  own  mind.  The  Creator  has  so 
constituted  the  human  intellect,  that  it  can  only  grow  by  its  own  action ; 
and  it  will  certainly  and  necessarily  grow.  Every  man  must  therefore 
educate  himself.  His  books  and  his  teachers  are  but  his  helps ;  the  work 
is  his.  A  man  is  not  educated  until  he  has  the  ability  to  summon,  on 
an  emergency,  his  mental  powers  in  vigorous  exercise  to  affect  his  pro 
posed  object.  It  is  not  the  man  who  has  seen  the  most,  or  read  the  most 
who  can  do  this;  such  an  one  is  in  danger  of  being  borne  down,  like  a 
beast  of  burden,  by  an  overloaded  mass  of  other  men's  thoughts.  Nor  is 
it  the  man  who  can  boast  merely  of  native  vigor  and  capacity.  The 
greatest  of  all  the  warriors  who  went  to  the  siege  of  Troy,  had  not  the 
preeminence  because  nature  had  given  him  strength,  and  he  carried  the 
largest  bow  ;  but  because  self-discipline  had  taught  him  how  to  bend  it. 

DANJEL  WEBSTER. 

Education  is  development,  not  instruction  merely — not  knowledge, 
facts,  rules — communicated  by  the  teacher,  but  it  is  discipline,  it  is  a 
waking  up  of  the  mind,  a  growth  of  the  mind — growth  by  a  healthy  as 
similation  of  wholesome  aliment.  It  is  an  inspiring  of  the  mind  wilh  a 
thirst  for  knowledge,  growth,  enlargement — and  then  a  disciplining  of  its 
powers  so  far  that  it  can  go  on  to  educate  itself.  It  is  the  arousing  of  the 
child's  mind  to  think,  without  thinking  for  it ;  it  is  the  awakening  of  its 
powers  to  observe,  to  remember,  to  reflect,  to  combine.  It  is  not  a  culti 
vation  of  the  memory  to  the  neglect  of  every  thing  else  ;  but  is  a  calling 
forth  of  all  the  faculties  into  harmonious  action. 

DAVID  PAGE.     Theory  and  Practice. 

Oh,  woe  to  those  who  trample  on  the  mind, 

That  deathless  thing!     They  know  not  what  they  do, 

Nor  -what  they  deal  with.     Man,  perchance,  may  bind 

The  flower  his  step  hath  bruised ;  or  light  anew 

The  torch  he  quenches  ;  or  to  music  wind 

Again  the  lyre-string  from  his  touch  that  flew  ; — 

But  for  the  soul,  oh,  tremble,  and  beware 

To  lay  rude  hands  upon  God's  mysteries  there ! 

*  Anonymous. 


4  APHORISMS  ON  EDUCATION. 

We  regard  education  as  the  formation  of  the  character,  physical,  in 
tellectual,  and  moral ;  as  the  process  by  which  our  faculties  are  devel 
oped,  cultivated,  and  directed,  and  by  which  we  are  prepared  for  our 
station  and  employment,  for  usefulness  and  happiness,  for  time  and 
eterniu^  W.  C.  WOODBKIDGE. 

All  intelligent  thinkers  upon  the  subject  now  utterly  discard  and  repu 
diate  the  idea  that  reading  and  writing,  with  a  knowledge  of  accounts, 
constitute  education.  The  lowest  claim  which  any  intelligent  man  now 
prefers  in  its  behalf  is,  that  its  domain  extends  over  the  threefold  nature 
of  man;  over  his  body,  training  it  by  the  systematic  and  intelligent  ob 
servance  of  those  benign  laws  which  secure  health,  impart  strength  and 
prolong  life  ;  over  his  intellect,  invigorating  the  mind,  replenishing  it  with 
knowledge,  and  cultivating  all  these  tastes,  which  are  allied  to  virtue  ; 
and  over  his  moral  and  religious  susceptibilities  also,  dethroning  selfish 
ness,  enthroning  conscience,  leading  the  affections  outwardly  in  good-will 
towards  man,  and  upward  in  gratitude,  and  reverence  to  God. 

Far  above  and  beyond  all  special  qualifications  for  special  pursuits,  is 
the  importance  of  forming  to  usefulness  and  honor  the  capacities  which 
are  common  to  all  mankind.  The  endowments  that  belong  to  all,  are  of 
far  greater  consequences  than  the  peculiarities  of  any.  The  practical 
farmer,  the  ingenious  mechanic,  the  talented  artist,  the  upright  legislator 
or  judge,  the  accomplished  teacher,  are  only  modifications  or  varieties 
of  the  original  man.  The  man  is  the  trunk ;  occupations  and  profes 
sions  are  only  different  qualities  of  the  fruit  it  yields.  The  development 
of  the  common  nature;  the  cultivation  of  the  germs  of  intelligence,  up 
rightness,  benevolence,  truth  that  belong  to  all ;  these  are  the  principal, 
the  aim,  the  end, — while  special  preparations  for  the  field  or  the  shop, 
for  the  forum  or  the  desk,  for  the  land  or  the  sea,  are  but  incidents. 

The  great  necessities  of  a  race  like  ours,  in  a  world  like  ours,  are  :  a 
Body,  grown  from  its  elemental  beginning,  in  health ;  compacted  with 
strength  and  vital  with  activity  in  every  part;  impassive  to  heat  and 
cold,  and  victorious  over  the  vicissitudes  of  seasons  and  zones;  not  crip 
pled  by  disease  nor  stricken  down  by  early  death  ;  not  shrinking  from 
bravest  effort,  but  panting,  like  fleetest  runner,  less  for  the  prize  than  for 
the  joy  of  the  race;  and  rejuvenant  amid  the  frosts  of  age.  A  Mind,  as 
strong  for  the  immortal  as  is  the  body  for  the  mortal  life  ;  alike  enlight 
ened  by  the  wisdom  and  beaconed  by  the  errors  of  the  past;  through 
intelligence  of  the  laws  of  nature,  guiding  her  elemental  forces,  as  it 
directs  the  limbs  of  its  own  body  through  the  nerves  of  motion,  thus 
making  alliance  with  the  exhaustless  forces  of  nature  for  its  strength  and 
clothing  itself  with  her  endless  charms  for  its  beaut}',  and,  wherever  it 
goes,  carrying  a  sun  in  its  hand  with  which  to  explore  the  realms  of  na 
ture,  and  reveal  her  yet  hidden  truths.  And  then  a  Moral  Nature,  pre 
siding  like  a  divinity  over  the  whole,  bani>hing  sorrow  an«l  pain,  gather 
ing  in  earthly  joys  and  immortal  hopes,  and  transfigured  and  rapt  by  the 
sovereign  and  sublime  aspiration  TO  KNOW  AND£O  THE  WILL  OF  (J!OD. 

HORACE  MANN. 


PREFATORY  REMARKS. 


THE  series  of  lectures,  of  which  the  following  are  a  part,  was  addressed,  origin-  I 
ally,  to  students  pursuing  a  course  of  professional  study,  under   the   author's   V 
direction,  in  the  Merrimack  (N.  II.)  Normal  Institute,  and  in  the  New  England 
Normal  Institute,  Lancaster,  Massachusetts.     The  course,  as  delivered,,  extended 
to  the  subjects  of  physical,  moral,  and  aesthetic  culture  ;  including,  under  the  lat 
ter  heads,  remarks  on  principle  as  the  foundation  of  character,  and  suggestions  on 
the  cultivation  of  taste. 

In  the  delivery  of  the  lectures,  it  was  deemed  important  to  avoid  the  unfavor 
able  influence  of  formal  didactic  exposition,  in  a  course  of  professional  lectures  to    / 
a  youthful  audience.     Equal  importance,  however,  was  attached  to  a  strict  observ-     J 
ance  of  the  systematic  connection  of  topics,  and  the  theoretic  unity  of  the  whole    / 
subject.     The  method  adopted,  therefore,  in  the  routine  of  the  lecture-room,  was  / 
to  treat  a  given  point  daily,  in  a  brief  oral  address  on  one  prominent  topic,  selected/ 
from  the  notes  embodying  the  plan  of  the  whole  course. 

At  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Henry  Barnard,  the  notes,  in  their  connected  form, 
were  transcribed  for  insertion  in  his  Journal;  and  the  lectures  on  Intellectual 
Education  were  selected  for  this  purpose,  rather  as  an  experiment,  on  the  part  of 
the  author,  in  his  uncertainty  how  far  it  might  be  advisable  to  present  the  whole 
series.  But  the  unexpectedly  favorable  reception  which  the  course  on  intellectual 
education  has  met  from  teachers,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  would  have  induced 
the  writer  to  transcribe  the  other  portions  of  the  series,  had  health  and  time  per 
mitted.  The  subjects  here  referred  to,  however,  will  be  introduced,  from  time  to 
time,  as  may  be  practicable,  in  future  numbers  of  Dr.  Barnard's  Journal. 

The  thoughts  presented  in  the  following  pages,  the  author  hopes,  may  serve  to  A 
attract  the  attention  of  teachers  who  are  so  situated  as  to  occupy  the  ground  not    / 
merely  of  instructors  but  of  educators,  who  have  it  in  their  power  to  control,  to  / 
some  extent,  the  plan  and  progress  of  education  ;  and  all  teachers  of  the  requisite  / 
zeal  and  thoughtful  ness,  even  in  the  most  limited  sphere  of  responsibility,  can  doy 
much  in  this  way,  by  their  personal  endeavors  in  instruction.     It  is  not  in  one  de 
partment  only,  or  in  one  stage,  that  the  field   of  education  needs  resurveying. 


PREFATORY  REMARKS. 

The  whole  subject,  notwithstanding  our  many  valuable  recent  improvements  in 
processes  and  methods,  physical  and  moral,  as  well  as  intellectual,  needs  a  careful 
reconsideration  as  to  its  true  requirements,  and  a  thorough  revision  of  our  plan  of 
procedure  and  modes  of  culture. 

It  is  true  that,  in  seminaries  of  education  of  every  grade,  we  are  ceasing  from 
a  blind  following  of  prescription  imposed  by  the  past.  Mental  discipline,  rather 
than  intellectual  acquisition,  is  now  more  generally  recognized  as  the  true  aim  of 
education  5  and  liberal  changes  and  generous  allowances,  as  regards  the  adapta 
tion  of  text- books  and  plans  of  instruction,  have  accordingly  been  made.  But,  as 
yet,  the  point  of  view  selected  by  most  even  of  our  most  considerate  and  genial 
counselors  on  the  great  theme  of  education,  has  been  far  from  a  commanding  one. 
It  has  been  that  of  subjects  and  sciences  and  departments  of  knowledge,  with 
their  respective  demands  upon  the  mind,  instead  of  that  of  the  mind  itself,  and  its 
divine  laws  of  action  and  progress,  as  prescribed  by  its  own  constitution  and  wants, 
its  appetites  and  instinctive  preferences.  To  attract  attention  to  these,  as  the  true 
principles  of  education,  is  the  chief  aim  of  the  suggestions  embodied  in  the  fol 
lowing  pages. 


PART    I. 

INTELLECTUAL   EDUCATION 


CONTENTS 


PACK. 

rTPAL     EOUCATIO^, .  .* 9 

The  tencher's  nim  in  instruction •) 

Necessity  of  plan  mid  method,. 10 

Preliminary  analysis,.,  f. 11 

Outline  of  inteilectunl  instruction J2 

I.  THK   I'KK'i-i'^K   FA«  t'LTiKs 12 

J.  Classification, by  unties  of  action,.    12 

2.  Curiosity J4 

3.  Observation 17 

4.  Knowledge ai 

•      5.   Appropriate'proccsses  for  their  cultivation, 28 

IP  THE  KJL^IKSSIVE  FACI'LTIKS 57 

Intnmiictory  observations 57 

4.   Enumeration,   58 

2.  The  net  nut  nit  principle 70 

3.  Tendency  or  habit  of  action 75 

4.  Result  of  the  action— ronimunicntion "-8 

5.  Edurntionnl  procexses  f..r  their  cultivation, H) 

6.  Means  of  correcting  prevalent  errors 93 

III.  Tut  RKFLKCTIVE  FACULTIES* 101 

Intrndiictnry  ob.«erv«tion», MU 

1.  Enumeration 102 

2.  The  Bctlintinjt  principle:   inquiry 121 

3.  Tendency  of  nction, %.  122 

4.  Result  of  the  action:  truth 125 

5.  Edurtitionnl  proce«ses  for  their  (lcvelo]>meiit, 127 

Concluding  explnntitions, 152 

INDEX  tu  the  principal  topics  considered, 155 


CULTIVATION   OF  THE   PERCEPTIVE   FACULTIES. 


INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. — The  circumstances  in  which  the  fol 
lowing  lectures  were  delivered,  will,  it  is  thought,  account  for  the  prom 
inence  given  in  them  to  many  things  merely  elementary,  as  regards 
the  science  of  mind  and  the  philosop%  of  .education.  An  audi 
ence  favored  with  the  advantages  of^high  intellectual  culture,  or  of 
long  experience  in  instruction,  woulu^  doubtless,  have  required  a  dif- 
*erent  treatment  of  many  topics  discussed  in  such  a  course  of  lectures 
as  the  present.  But  a  loiTg  series-  of  yearST>ccupied  in  the  training  of 
teachers,  has  proved  to  the  author  of  the  present  communication,  that 
the  greater  number  of  candidates  for  the  omce  of  instruction,  and  of 
those  to  whom  its  duties  are  comparatively  new,  need  nothing  so 
much  as  an  elementary  knowledge  of  intelle^ual^philosophy,  and  of 
logic,  in  their  connection  with  education,  as  the  science  which  Reaches 
the  appropriate  development  and  discipline  of  the  mind.  * 
»  The  Teacher 's Aim  in  Instruction. — Few  teaclfers,  at  the  present 

fl I  day,  regard  knowledge  as  the  great  end  even  of  inteAfetual  educa 
tion.  Few  are  now  unwilling  to  admit  that  the  chief  airn*of*their 
daily  endeavors,  as  instructors  and  educators,  should  be  to  train,  develop, 
and  discipline  the  powers  by« which  knowledge  is  acquired,  rather  than  k 
attempt  the  immediate  accumulation  of  knowledge  itself..  In  prat- 
tice,  however,  and,  more  particularly,  in  the  case  of  young  teachers, 
and  of  those  who  follow  the  occupation  as  a  transient  one,  and  not 
as  the  vocation  of  a  life-time,  the  eagerness  for  definite  and  apparent 
results,  or  even  showy  acquirements,  too  often  induces  the  instructor 
to  confine  his  attention  to  the  mere  mechanism  of  specific  processes, 
— to  the  committing  to  memory,  and  the  repetition  of  a  set  task,  with 
or  without  the  aid  of  explanation.  This  course  he  knows  will  nomi 
nally  secure  a  single  point  in  practice  or  effect.  He  thinks,  perhaps, 
that,  although  not  fully  understood  or  appreciated  now,  it  will  cer 
tainly  benefit  the  mind  of  his  pupil  at  some  future  day,  when  his 

*The  series  of  lectures  of  which  the  present  forms  a  part,  extended  to  the  departments  of 
physical  and  moral  training.  But  those  on  the  progress  of  intellectual  culture,  are  selected 
as  more  easily  presented  in  the  form  of  a  series  of  articles  for  an  educational  Journal. 


10  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

mind  is  more  mature.  Il.-nce,  we  still  have,  in  our  school  routine, 
too  much  of  mere  rule  and  repetition,  detached  fact  and  specific  direc 
tion,  the  lesson  of  the  hour  and  the  business  of  the  day,  and  too  little 
of  the  searching  interrogation, .close  observation,  reflective  thought, 
and  penetrating  investigation,  by  which  alone  the  mind  can  be  trained 
to  the  acquisition  of  useful  knowledge,  or  the  attainment  of  valuable 
truth. 

Necessity  of  Plan  and  Method. — The  master  builder,  when  he 
goes  to  oversee  his  workmen,  and  watch  their  progress  in  the  work 
of  raising  the  edifice,  for  the  construction  of  which  he  has  entered 
into  contract,  never  fails  to  carry  with  him  his  plan  of  erection,  and 
with  that  in  his  hand,  for  constant  reference,  gives  directions  for  even 
the  minutest  details  in  working.  He  docs  nothing  but  in  execution 
of  his  plan,  and  in  strict  accordance  with  it.  The  master  builder 
thus  reads  a  lesson  to  the  master  instructor,  (inward  builder,)  who, 
although  he  needs  not  plan  in  hand,  for  his  peculiar  work,  needs  it 
no  less,  ever  present  to  his  mind,  if  he  wishes  to  become  "  a  work 
man  that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed  ;  "  if,  in  a  word,  he  would  enjoy 
the  conscious  pleasure  of  referring  every  day's  labor  to  its  destined 
end  of^buildinn^up  the  mental  fabric  in  strength,  and  symmetry,  and 
enduring  beauty.  •  f> 

Tta  young  teacher,  as  he  reviews  the  business  of  the  day  with  his 
pupils, — and  would  that  this  were  a  daily  practice  in  every  school ! — 
should  eveyefer,  in  his  own  mind,  at  least,  to  the  general  effect  of 
every  exercise,  as  tending  to  the  great  results  of  education, — to  the 
expansion  of  the  mind,  to  the  formation  of  habits  of  observation  and 
inquiry,  to  control  over  attention,  to  the  clearing  and  sharpening  of 
the  percipient  faculties,  to  the  strengthening  of  the  mind's  retentive 
power,  to  securing,-  in  a  word,  intellectual  tendency  and  character,  as 
the  basis  of  moral  development  and  habit.  The  teacher,  not  less 
than  the  builder,  should  ever  have,  in  ]iis  mind's  eye,  the  plan  of  his 
edifice  ;  aud  while,  during  the  whole  process  of  erection,  he  wastes 
no  time  on  fanciful  theory  or  fantastic  ornament,  every  operation 
which  he  conducts  should  be,  to  his  own  consciousness,  part  of  a 
great  whole,  tending  to  a  grand  consummation.  Text-books,  pro 
cesses,  exercises,  apparatus  of  every  description,  are  properly,  but  the 
pliant  tools,  or  the  subject  material,  in  the  hands  of  the  skillful 
teacher,  by  means  of  which  he  does  his  great  work  of  "  building  up 
the  being  that  we  are ; "  and  all  these  aids  he  arranges,  selects, 
modifies,  and  applies,  according  to  the  system  suggested  by  his  plan 
and  purpose. 

As  the  overseer  and  artificer  of  the  mental  fabric  of  character,  the 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  ~[\ 

f 

teacher  who  is  worthy  of  the  name,  must  necessarily  possess  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  material  on  which  he  works.  It  would  be  well,  were 
this  knowledge  always  profound  and  philosophical ;  and,  among  the 
happy  anticipations  suggested  by  the  establishment  of  normal  schools, 
none  is  more  cheering  than  the  hope  that,  ere  long,  society  will  be 
furnished  with  a  numerous  class  of  teachers,  competent  to  understand 
and  guide  the  young  mind  through  all  its  stages  of  growth  and  de 
velopment,  and  furnished  with  all  the  requisite  means  of  secur 
ing  the  noblest  results  of  human  culture. 

Meanwhile,  the  laborers  who  are  already  in  the  field,  and  who  have 
not  enjoyed,  perhaps,  extensive  opportunities  of  acquiring  a  scientific 
knowledge  of  the  chemistry  of  mental  culture,  must  be  content  with 
such  aids  as  their  own  observation,  reading,  reflection,  or  experience, 
may  furnish. 

As  a  slight  contribution  to  the  common  stock  of  professional  facili 
ties,  the  author  of  the  present  article  would  submit  the  following 
outline  to  the  consideration  of  his  fellow  teachers,  as  an  intended  aid 
to  the  systematizing  of  their  efforts  for  the  mental  advancement  of 
their  pupils. 

The  analysis  which  follows,  extends,  it  will  be  perceived,  no  farther 
than  to  the  limits  of  intellectual  education.  The  physical  and  the 
moral  departments  of  culture,  may  be  discussed  at  another  opportu 
nity,  and  must  be  dismissed  for  the  present,  with  the  single  remark, 
that  the  natural  unity  of  the  human  being,  demands  a  ceaseless  atten 
tion  to  these,  in  strict  conjunction  with  that  more  immediately  under 
consideration. 

PRELIMINARY  ANALYSIS. — Contemplating  man's  intellectual  con 
stitution  as  subjected  to  the  processes  of  education,  we  may  conven 
iently  group  his  mental  powers  and  faculties  under  the  following 
denominations : — perceptive,  reflective,  and  expressive.  In  expression, 
as  a  function  of  man  at  the  period  of  his  maturity,  the  order,  in  the 
preceding  classification,  may  be  termed  the  normal  or  usual  one. 
Man  perceives,  reflects,  speaks.  But  in  education,  whether  regarded 
as  a  natural  process  or  an  artificial  one,  the  order  of  classification  sug 
gested  by  the  experience  and  the  history  of  the  human  being,  in  his 
early  and  comparatively  immature  condition,  would  present  the 
expressive  powers  as  in  exercise  long  before  the  reflective,  and,  subse 
quently,  as  the  appointed  means  of  developing  these,  through  the 
medium  of  language. 

OUTLINE  OF  INTELLECTUAL  CULTURE. — An  outline  map,  or  plan 
of  intellectual  culture,  as  aided  by  the  processes  of  education,  may  be 
carried  into  practical  detail,  as  suggested  by  the  following  prominent 
points  of  analysis. 


12  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

1.  Classification  of  the  intellectual  faculties,  by  the  different  modes, 
or  forms  of  mental  action. 

2.  Statement  of  the  actuating  principle,  or  impelling  power  of 
each  class  or  group  of  faculties. 

3.  The  tendency,  or  habit  of  action  in  each  class. 

4.  The  result,  or  issue  of  such  action. 

5.  The  educational  processes  adapted  to  each  class  of  faculties  with 
a  view  to  aid  its  natural  tendency,  and  secure  its  results. 

From  the  imperfection  of  our  language,  in  relation  to  topics  strictly 
mental,  or  purely  philosophical,  the  word  faculties  is  unavoidably  em 
ployed  to  represent  the  diversities  in  modes  of  action  of  the  mind, 
which,  in  itself,  is,  properly  speaking,  one  and  indivisible.  But  if  we 
keep  fully  before  us  the  etymological  signification  of  the  term  facul 
ties,  (resources,  means,  powers,)  we  shall  regard  it  but  as  a  figurative 
expression,  suggestive  of  the  indefinitely  diversified  states,  acts,  opera 
tions,  processes,  powers,  or  modes  of  action,  attributable  to  the  mind, 
— itself  a  unit. 

Adopting  the  general  classification  before  referred  to,  we  may  com 
mence  the  partial  filling  up  of  our  outline  with 

1.       THE    PERCEPTIVE    FACULTIES. 

1 .  Their  modes  or  forms  of  action  : 

a,  sensation  ;  6,  perception  ;  c,  attention  :  d,  observation. 

2.  Actuating  principle,  or  impelling  force,  curiosity, — or  the  desire 
of.  knowledge. 

3.  Tendency,  or  habit  of  action, — observation. 

4.  Result,  or  issue  of  action, — knowledge. 

5.  Educational  process,  forms  of  exercise,  or  modes  of  culture,  de 
velopment,  and  discipline  suggested  by  the  four  preceding  considera 
tions, — examination,  analysis,  inspection,  interrogation,  direction,  in 
formation,  comparison,  classification,  induction.     In  other  words,  the 
appropriate  presentation  of  objects  to  the  senses,  accompanied  by  mu 
tual  question  and  answer  by  teacher   and  pupil; — with   a  view  to 
quicken  sensation,  awaken  perception,  give  power  of  prompt  and  sus 
tained  attention,  confirm   the  habit  of  careful  observation,  stimulate 
curiosity,  and  insure  the  extensive  ai-'iuisition  of  knowledge. 

(1.)       CLASSIFICATION     OF    THE     PERCEPTIVE     FACULTIES,    BY    THEIR 
MODES    OF    ACTION. 

(a,)  Sensation, — the  oraanic  action  by  which  objects,  facts,  and  rela 
tions  are  presented  to  the  mind,  through  the  media  of  the  senses,  and 
which  form  the  conditions  of  perception. 

(/>,)  Perception,  or  cognition, — the  intellectual  action  by  which  the 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  13 

mind  perceives,  (takes  notice,  or  cognizance  of,)  data  presented  by  tlie 
senses. 

(c,)  Attention, — the  mental  action  by  which,  under  the  incitation 
of  desire  or  volition,  the  percipient  intellect  tends,  for  the  purposes 
of  distinct  cognizance,  towards  the  object,  fact,  or  relation  presented 
to  it. 

(rf,)  Observation, — the  voluntary,  sustained,  or  continuous  exercise  of 
attention,  with  which  the  rnind  directs  itself  toward  the  object  of  its 
contemplation,  for  the  purpose  of  complete  intuition  and  perfect  rec 
ognition. 

All  the  terms  now  defined,  are  but  different  designations  for  the 
various  forms  in  which  the  intuitive  action  of  the  intellectual  princi 
ple  is  solicited  by  objects  external  to  itself.  The  English  language, 
as  the  product  of  mind  working  chiefly  in  practical  directions,  posses 
ses  little  of  the  clearness  and  distinctness  in  nomenclature  which  the 
topics  of  intellectual  analysis  so  peculiarly  require.  But  the  four 
terms  used  above  are  sufficient  to  comprise  the  prominent  forms  of 
perceptive  action,  in  the  various  processes  of  intellection.  They  all 
refer  significantly  enough,  to  the  first  efforts  of  intelligence,  when, 
previous  to  any  introversive  or  reflective  act,  of  comparatively  sub 
tile  or  intricate  character,  it  obeys  the  instinct  of  its  appetite,  and 
finds  its  sustentation  by  feeding  on  the  aliment  tendered  to  it  by  its 
Author,  in  the  objects  which  environ  it.  To  watch  and  guide,  and 
cooperate  with  this  instructive  principle,  is  -the  true  office  of  educa 
tion,  as  a  process  of  nurture  and  development,  working  not  in  arbi 
trary  or  artificial,  but  in  salutary  and  successful  forms, — forms  not 
devised  by  the  fallible  ingenuity  of  man,  but  by  the  unerring  wisdoni 
of  Supreme  intelligence. 

Prevalent  error  in  the  order  of  cultivation. — Contrary,  however,  to 
the  obvious  suggestions  of  fact,  education  is  still  too  generally  regard 
ed  as  consisting,  during  its  earlier  stages,  in  arbitrary  exercises  of 
memory  on  combinations  of  printed  characters,  abstract  numbers,  or 
even  the  metaphysical  relations  involved  in  the  science  of  grammar. 
The  excuse  offered  for  a  blind  following  of  precedent  in  this  direction, 
usually  is  the  peculiar  susceptibility  of  memory,  during  the  period 
of  childhood,  and  the  comparative  difficulty  experienced  in  attempts 
to  cultivate  it  at  a  later  stage.  Were  the  educational  cultivation  of 
memory  directed  to  the  retaining  and  treasuring  up  of  those  stores  of 
knowledge  which  are  naturally  accessible  to  the  rnind  of  childhood, 
within  the  range  of  its  daily  observation,  the  plea  would  be  justifia 
ble;  man's  endeavors  would  be  in  harmony  with  the  obvious  instincts 
and  endowments  of  the  mind,  and  would  tend  to  its  natural  ex'jan- 


14  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 


and  development.  But  directed  to  the  mechanical  and  arbi 
trary  results  at  which  these  endeavors  so  generally  aim,  theic.  influ 
ence  is  detrimental.  Their  immediate  effect  is  to  quench  the  natural 
thirst  for  knowledge,  to  create  a  distaste  for  intellectual  activity,  and 
thus  to  defeat  the  best  purposes  of  education. 

The  law  of  true  culture  lies  in  the  primary  craving  of  the  young 
mind  for  material  on  which  the  understanding  may  operate:  digest 
ing  it,  in  due  season,  into  the  regular  form  of  knowledge  which  mem 
ory  loves  to  retain,  and  which  judgment  ultimately  builds  up  into  the 
systematic  arrangements  of  science. 

(2.)       CURIOSITY,  THE    ACTUATING    PRINCIPLE    OF    THE    PERCEPTIVE 
FACULTIES. 

The  Teachers  proper  place.  —  The  teacher  who  enters  intelligently 
upon  his  work  of  cultivating  the  minds  entrusted  to  his  care,  knows 
that  his  chief  duty  is  to  cherish  the  spontaneous  action  of  their  pow 
ers,  and  to  make  them  intelligent  and  voluntary  co-workers  in  their 
own  development.  He  observes,  therefore,  with  careful  attention, 
the  natural  tendencies  and  action  of  the  intellectual  system,  as  the 
physiologist  does  those  of  the  corporeal,  so  as  to  become  competent 
to  trace  the  law  of  development,  and  adapt  his  measures  to  its  re 
quirements.  lie  thus  becomes  qualified  to  take  his  proper  place,  as 
an  humble  but  efficient  co-worker  with  the  Author  of  the  mind,  rec 
ognizing  and  following  His  plan,  in  modes  suggested  by  a  wisdom 
higher  than  human. 

The  attentive  study  and  observation  of  the  natural  workings 
of  the  mind,  in  the  successive  stages  of  its  progress,  from  incipient 
intelligence  to  maturity  of  reason,  imply,  however,  not  merely  a  care 
ful  analysis  of  the  facts  and  modes  of  mental  action,  but  a  watchful 
observation,  with  a  view  to  detect,  in  all  cases,  the  moving  power  or 
impel/ing  principle  of  action,  to  aid  and  regulate  which  is  the 
educator's  chief  work.  The  ceaseless  intellectual  activity  of  child 
hood,  maintained  through  the  various  media  of  perception,  furnished 
by  the  organs  of  sense,  is  obviously  stimulated  by  the  constitutional 
principle  of  curiosity,  an  eager  desire  to  know  and  vnctcrxtand,  and 
therefore,  to  observe  and  examine.  Hence  the  irrepressible  and  search 
ing  questions  with  which  children,  in  the  instinct  of  faith,  appeal  to 
whomsoever  they  think  can  satisfy  their  craving  for  information. 

To  feed  this  mental  Appetite,  to  select  and  prepare  its  proper  nutri 
ment,  to  keep  it  in  healthy  and  healthful  activity,  to  quicken  and 
strengthen  it,  to  direct  and  guide  it,  as  a  divine  instinct,  leading  to 
the  noblest  ends,  should  be  the  teacher's  constant  endeavor.  To 
awaken  curiosity  is  to  secure  a  penetrating  and  fixed  attention,  —  the 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  1  5 

prime  condition  of  human  knowledge  ;  and  even  when  it  leads  no 
further  than  to  wonder,  it  is  preparing  the  advancing  mind  for  the 
awe  and  the  reverence  with  which,  in  later  stages  of  its  progress,  it 
looks  up  to  the  knowledge  which  is  "  too  high  for  it." 

The  emotion  of  wonder  analogous  to  the  instinct  of  curiosity. — Cu 
riosity,  like  the  kindred  element  of  wonder,  finds  its  sustenance  in 
whatever  is  new  to  sensation  or  perception  ;  wonder,  in  turn,  leads 
the  mind  to  dwell  on  whatever  IB  Strange,  intricate,  or  remote;  aston 
ishment,  arrests  it  by  whatever  is  sudden  and  powerful ;  awe  com 
mands  it  by  whatever  is  vast ;  arid  amazement  overwhelms  it  by 
whatever  is  incomprehensible  or  inscrutable.  Yet  all  of  these  effects, — 
even  those  which,  for  the  moment,  acton  the  perceptive  intellect  with  a 
repulsive  force  that  makes  it  recoil  in  conscious  weakness  from  the 
object  of  contemplation, — are  but  various  forms  of  stimulating,  im 
pelling,  or  attracting  force,  acting  on  the  irrepressible  vitality  of  the 
mind ;  and  no  incitements  are  ultimately  more  powerful  in  maintain 
ing  the  most  resolute  and  persevering  activity  of  its  powers. 

Mental  effects  of  novelty  and  variety. — In  the  great  primary  school 
of  nature,  as  established  and  furnished  by  the  Author  of  all,  we  ob 
serve,  accordingly,  that  in  the  multiform  variety  of  objects  with 
which  the  young  human  being  is  surrounded,  at  the  first  dawning  of 
intelligence  within  him,  the  novelty  of  the  whole  scene  around  him, 
and  of  every  class  of  objects  which  it  presents,  is  forever  tempting  his 
susceptible  spirit  to  observe  and  examine,  and  explore,  by  the  con 
scious  delight  which  every  new  step  affords  him. 

Evils  of  monotony,  and  advantages  of  variety. — Nor  is  the  obvious 
design  of  the  great  Instructor  less  conspicuous  in  the  feeling  of  satiety 
and  wearinesa  which  is  always  superinduced  by  continued  sameness  of 
mental  action,  whether  prolonged  in  the  same  mode  of  exercise,  or 
on  the  same  class  of  objects.  The  observant  teacher  thus  learns  his 
own  lesson  of  duty, — to  avoid  undue  limitation  in  the  objects  and 
forms  of  intellectual  action,-to  shun  sameness  and  monotony  of  rou 
tine,  and  protracted  exertions  of  attention,  as  all  tending  to  exhaust 
and  enfeeble  the  mental  powers.  His  endeavors,  on  the  contrary,  are 
all  directed  to  a  due  diversity  in  the  presentation  of  objects,  and  in 
the  mode  of  mental  activity  which  they  call  forth  ;  and,  in  whatever 
instances  frequent  repetition  is  indispensable  to  exact  perception,  he  is 
particularly  careful  to  exert  his  ingenuity  to  the  utmost,  in  devising 
new  modes  of  presentation,  so  as  to  secure  fresh  and  earnes't  atten 
tion  to  the  same  objects  or  facts,  by  the  renovating  effect  of 
the  new  lights  and  new  aspects  in  which  he  causes  them  to  be 
viewed, 


1C  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Faults  in  former  modes  of  education. — It  is  unnecessary,  in  our 
clay,  to  dwell  on  the  obvious  faults  of  the  obsolete  practice  of  con 
fining  young  children  within  doors  at  all  seasons,  compiling  them 
to  remain  long  in  one  attitude  or  posture  without  relief,  condemning 
them  to  long  periods  of  silence  and  constraint,  and  forcinfj  them  to 
con  unmeaning  and  irksome  tasks.  These  injurious  practices  are  now, 
for  the  most  part  renounced  ;  and  more  genial  and  rational  modes  of 
early  education  are  beginning  to  prevail.  As  yet,  however,  we  have 
only  made  a  beginning.  We  have  reformed  our  modes  of  school 
architecture,  and  have  a 'owed  children  the  unspeakable  benefits  of 
space  and  air,  and  more  frequent  change  of  place,  and  posture,  and 
exercise.  Objects  and  pictures  are  no>y  employed,  to  some  extent,  as 
instruments  of  mental  culture ;  and  the  wisdom  of  all  these  changes 
is  proved  in  the  greater  happiness  and  better  health  of  our  little  pu 
pils,  and,  more  particularly,  in  their  greater  docility,  and  their  supe 
rior  intellectual  progress,  as. contrasted  with  the  state  of  things  under" 
the  former  regime  of  irksome  monotony,  restraint,  weariness,  and  stu 
pidity.  We  are  very  far,  yet,  however,  from  approaching  the  boun 
tiful  variety  and  delightful  novelty  furnished  in  the  great  model 
school  of  iftfancy  and  childhood,  as  established  by  the  Divine  founder. 

Intellectual  furniture  of  school-rooms. — Our  primary  school-rooms  • 
should  be  so  many  cabinets  of  nature  and  art.  Every  inch  of  wall 
not  indispensably  required  for  blackboard  exercises,  should  be  se 
cured  for  educational  purposes,  by  specimens  of  plants,  minerals, 
shells,  birds,  and  whatever  else  can  be  appropriately  placed  before  the 
eye.  The  arranging,  clasnifiying,  and  describing  of  these,  should  pre 
cede  any  analysis  or  study  of  letters  or  syllables.  Pictures  repre 
senting  such  objects,  should  form  a  second  stage  of  exercises  in  atten 
tion,  observation,  and  description,  before  any  alphabetic  drilling  what 
ever.  The  examination  of  objects  and  of  pictures,  should,  in  a  word, 
form  the  natural  preparatory  training  of  the  perceptive  faculties  for 
the  more  arbitrary  and  more  difficult  exercise  of  studying  and  recog- 
ni/.ing  the  unmeaning,  uninteresting  forms  of  alphabetic  characters 
with  their  phonetic  combinations. 

Injurious  effects  of  mere  alphabetic  drilling. — Curiosity,  the  nat 
ural  incitement  of  intellect,  is  easily  awakened  when  we  obey  the  law 
of  the  Creator,  and  direct  it  to  His  works, — the  natural  and  appro 
priate  stynulaiits  of  the  perceptive  powers  of  infancy ;  but  when, 
leaving  our  proper  sphere,  and  restricting  our  educational  efforts  to 
the  mechanical  training  of  eye  and  ear,  we  use  these  organs,  and  the 
informing  mind,  for  the  limited  purpose  of  recognizing  the  complica 
ted  and  irregular  geometrical  combinations  of  line  and  angle,  pre- 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  j  f 

sented  in  alphabetic  characters,  and  repeating  the  sounds  so  arbi 
trarily  associated  with  these,  we  take  the  mind  out  of  its  native  ele 
ment  ;  we  consequently  force  and  distort  its  growth,  dwarf  its  stat 
ure,  and  enfeeble  its  powers. 

E/ects  of  the  salutary  excitement  of  the  feeling  of  wonder. — But 
it  is  not  in  the  first  stages  only  of  mental  culture,  that  the  influence 
of  novelty  and  variety  is  required  as  an  incitement  to  observation,  by 
the  frequent  presentation  of  new  and  fresh  objects  of  attention,  by 
the  agreeable  surprises  occasioned  by  new  forms  and  new  stages  of 
animal  and  vegetable  life, — all  tending  to  excite  a  lively  curiosity, 
which  leads,  in  turn,  to  careful  attention,  close  examination,  and  suc 
cessful  study.  Curiosity  should  often  be  awakened  by  the  yet  more 
powerful  influence  of  wonder.  Objects  rare  and  strange,  combina 
tions  intricate  and  even  puzzling,  should  sometimes  be  called  in,  to 
excite  a  yet  more  energetic  action  of  the  perceptive  intellect,  in  its 
endeavors  to  grasp  the  objects  of  its  contemplation. 

Whatever  in  nature  is  wonderful, — whether  we  employ  the  micro 
scope,  in  revealing  the  intricate  structure  of  plant  or  insect,  in  the 
minuter  and  closer  examination  of  the  works  of  the  Creator  ;  or  the 
telescope,  in  the  contemplation  of  the  starry  heavens,  and  the  study 
of  the  magnitudes  and  motions  of  the  bodies  which  people  the  depths 
of  space, — all  should  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  young  mind,  to  call 
forth  that  sense  of  wonder  which  so  delights  and  inspires  "it,  and  pre 
pares  it,  at  the  same  time,  for  the  influence  of  those  sentiments  of 
awe  and  reverence  with  which  the  advancing  intellect  learns  to  trace 
the  signatures  of  Deity. 

(3.)    OBSERVATION,  AS    THE    TENDENCY    OF    MENTAL    HABIT,  UNDER 
THE    INCITING    INFLUENCE    OF    CURIOSITY. 

The  natural  effect  of  intellectual  instinct. — The  motive  power,  or 
impelling  force,  by  which,  in  the  ordinations  of  the  mind's  omnis 
cient  Author,  its  perceptive  faculties  are  incited  to  activity,  and 
induced  to  render  their  tribute  to  the  resources  of  intelligence,  con 
sists  in  that  restless  desire  to  observe,  to  examine,  and  to  know,  which 
constitutes  man  a  progressively  intelligent  being.  Impelled  by  this 
insatiable  mental  thirst,  he  is  led  instinctively  to  those  streams  of 
knowledge  which  constitute  the  waters  of  intellectual  life.  His  per 
ceptive  powers  thus  stimulated,  acquire  a  tendency  to  ceaseless  activ 
ity, — a  trait  which  forms  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  early 
stages  of  his  mental  progress,  and  which  is  greatly  quickened  by  the 
vividness  of  sensation  in  the  constitution  of  childhood.  Hence  the 
promptness  and  versatility  of  attention  at  that  period,  and  its  remark 
able  susceptibility  to  the  influences  of  cultivation  and  discipline. 


18  EDUCATION  OF  TOE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

These  aids,  it  is  true,  are,  as  yet,  too  scantily  furnished  in  the  pro 
cesses  of  education ;  and,  even  without  thorn,  the  human  being,  as 
he  advances  under  the  promptings  of  instinct,  and  the  guidance  of 
self-intelligence,  attains,  as  in  the  case  even  of  the  savage,  to  a  high 
degree  of  perceptive  power.  The  keen,  quick,  and  penetrating 
glance  of  his  eye,  the  acuteness  and  certainty  of  his  ear,  the  readi 
ness  and  exactness  of  his  observation  of  every  object  within  the  range 
of  his  vision,  the  searching  closeness  of  inspection  with  which  he  ex 
amines  everything  new  or  uncertain,  often  furnish  an  impressive 
lesson  on  the  value  of  training,  to  those  whose  means  and  opportuni 
ties  of  intellectual  culture  are  so  superior  to  his  own. 

Effects  of  cherishing  the  habit  of  observation. — The  habit  of  obser 
vation,  duly  cherished  in  early  years,  by  the  judicious  care  of  the 
parent  and  teacher,  becomes  the  security  for  ample  acquisitions  in  the 
field  of  knowledge,  and  for  the  daily  accumulation  of  mental  resources 
and  of  intellectual  power.  The  observant  mind,  like  the  close-knit 
net  of  the  skillful  fisherman,  encloses  and  retains  the  living  treasures 
within  its  sweep,  and  deposits  them,  for  use,  in  their  appropriate  place. 
The  undisciplined,  inattentive,  unobservant  spectator  seizes  and  re 
tains  nothing  in  his  slack  and  ineffectual  grasp. 

Suggestive  significance  of  terms  in  intellectual  and  educational  re 
lations. — Jrie  etymology  of  the  word  apprehension,  (seizing,  grasping, 
laying  hold  of,)  suggests  an  important  lesson  regarding  the  value  of 
intellectual  training,  as  dependent  on  the  habit  of  attentive  and  close 
observation.  The  word  attention,  (tending,  reaching,  or  stretching 
toward,)  is  not  less  instructive  in  its  signification,  implying  the  ten 
dency,  or  the  gravitating  of  the  mind's  perceptive  power  toward  the 
object  of  notice,  for  the  purpose  of  cognizance,  as  the  first  stage  of 
intelligence.  The  term  observation,  (watching,  with  a  view  to  obey 
or  follow,)  is  yet  more  monitory  to  the  teacher ;  as  it  intimates  that 
the  true  study  of  external  nature  demands  vigilance,  docility,  and 
fidelity  ;  in  one  word,  the  devotion  of  the  whole  mind  to  the  busi 
ness  of  intellectual  acquisition.  Perception,  (taking,  through  a  me 
dium,)  refers  us  back  to  the  humble  office  of  sensation,  as  indispensa 
ble  to  the  process  of  taking  into  the  mind  the  treasures  of  knowl 
edge  offered  to  the  grasp  of  sense,  for  the  purpose  of  transmission  to 
the  percipient  power,  the  inner  principle  of  intelligence.  All  of 
these  terms,  in  the  nomenclature  of  mental  science,  tend  to  the  same 
important  end,  in  the  uses  of  practical  education  :  they  all  point  to 
the  appropriate  discipline  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  by  means  of 
objects  addressed  to  the  senses,  as  the  primary  stage  of  intellectual 
culture. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  1'ACULTIES. 


19 


Educational  errors. — Former  modes  of  education  rendered  the  use 
of  terms  such  as  the  preceding,  a  nullity,  or  an  absurdity.  The  child 
shut  up  within  the  naked  walls,  of  a  school-room,  seated  on  his  un 
comfortable  bench,  and  mechanically  conning  by  rote,  the  ill-fitting 
names  of  alphabetic  elements,  or  trying  to  piece  them  into  syllables, 
had  little  use  of  the  precious  gift  of  sense,  but  a  few  lines  and  angles 
to  perceive, — unless  a  friendly  fly  should  happen  to  alight  upon  the 
page  of  his  primer, — no  inducement  to  attention  but  the  fear  of  Sol 
omon's  prescription  for  "  minds  diseased,"  nothing  half  so  interesting 
to  observe  as  the  little  winged  being  accidentally  crawling  on  the  pnge 
before  him,  displaying  the  curiously  constructed  mechanism  of  its 
form,  its  gauzy  wings,  and  many-feathered  little  limbs,  or  stopping 
now  and  then,  to  dry-rub  instead  of  washing  them,  and  its  tiny  head, 
and  flexible  bit  of  neck,  almost  too  diminutive  to  be  seen.  But  woe 
to  the  little  student  of  nature,  in  the  genuine  act  of  observation,  if  he 
should  lift  his  eye  from  his  book,  and  follow  his  brisk  little  visitant 
flying  off  to  perform  the  visible  miracle  of  walking  up  the  perpendic 
ular  plane  of  the  window  pane,  or  the  yet  more  puzzling  feat  of  walk 
ing  the  ceiling  with  bis  head  downward. 

National  method. — The  child,  in  the  case  supposed,  indicates  the 
real  want  of  his  nature,  and  mutely,  but  most  eloquently,  pleads  for 
a  lesson  on  insect  life,  (entomology,)  before  one  on  the  alphabet. 
Furnished  with  the  data  which  the  lesson  on  insect  life  and  form, 
character  and  motion,  would  present  to  his  eye,  he  would  be  receiving 
a  rational  preparatory  discipline  of  attention  and  observation,  in  the 
close  and  careful  examination  of  all  the  details  of  shape  and  configu 
ration,  exhibited  in  the  living  and  attractive  object  before  him.  His 
recognition  of  figure  and  outline,  thus  secured,  he  would,  in  due  sea 
son,  transfer,  easily  and  willingly,  to  the  artificial  display  of  them  in 
the  forms  of  printed  characters. 

Benefits  resulting  from  the  early  formation  of  habits  of  attentive 
observation. — The  early  training  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  by  a  va 
ried  and  genial  discipline  of  the  power  of  attention,  so  as  to  render 
the  habit  of  observation  an  unfailing  characteristic  of  the  man,  be 
comes  doubly  valuable,  as  a  result  of  education,  when  we  regard  its 
effects  on  the  intellectual  tastes  and  pursuits  of  individuals.  A  taste 
for  the  study  of  nature,  early  formed,  leads  to  the  practice  of  col 
lecting  specimens,  and  thus  furnishing  the  means  of  successful 
study  to  the  person  himself,  who  collects  them,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
all  whom  he  is  disposed  to  aid  in  such  pursuits.  Were  even  the  ele 
ments  of  botany,  geology,  mineralogy,  and  zoology,  generally  adop 
ted,  as  they  ought  to  be,  as  subjects  of  attention  in  primary  education, 


20  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

a  knowledge  of  natural  science,  would,  ere  long,  be  diffused  through 
out  our  community  ;  a  taste  for  the  study  of  nature  would  become 
an  intellectual  trait  of  our  people  ;  the  pursuit  of  agriculture,  abrori- 
culture,  and  horticulture,  would  be  more  intelligently  and  more  ad 
vantageously  followed  ;  the  citizen  would  doubly  relish  his  season  of 
respite  in  the  country  ;  taste  and  intelligence  would  extend  tjjeir 
influence  over  all  modes  of  life;  and  science  would  be  unspeakably  a 
gainer,  in  its  noble  purposes  and  offices,  by  the  multitude  of  active 
minds  and  busy  hands  called  in  to  collect,  and  contribute  materials 
for  its  various  forms  of  investigation.  The  field  of  human  knowl 
edge  might  thus  be  indefinitely  enlarged,  and  its  advantages  and 
enjoyments  be  more  extensively  diffused. 

But  it  is  not  merely  as  a  matter  of  scientific  progress,  or  of  taste 
and  enjoyment,  that  the  proper  training  of  the  perceptive  faculties, 
by  means  of  objects  and  observation,  rather  than  by  the  materials 
furnished  in  books,  becomes  an  important  consideration  in  the  plan 
ning  of  modes  of  education,  and  methods  of  instruction.  Practical 
utilitv,  also,  has  its  claim  to  urge  in  this  relation.  The  larger  num 
ber  of  persons,  even  in  the  most  advanced  communities,  as  regards 
civilization  and  refinement,  are  occupied  in  some  foim  of  active  exer 
tion,  as  the  daily  vocation  of  individuals  ;  and  while  no  generous 
mind  can  ever  look  on  education  as  a  benefit  or  a  blessing,  if  it  is  to 
be  used  as  a  means  of  training  for  the  occupation  of  a  given  caste,  it 
is  not  less  true,  that  every  individual,  in  whatever  class  of  society, 
would  be  vastly  benefited  by  an  early  course  of  cultivation  on  all 
subjects  akin  to  those  which  are  to  form  the  staple  of  his  mode  of 
life.  Botany,  geology,  chemistry,  entomology,  for  instance,  all  have 
their  relations  to  agriculture;  and  a  few  hours  devoted  weekly  to 
the  elements  of  these  sciences,  will,  by  their  inspiring  influence  on  the 
young  mind,  expedite  rather  than  retard  the  ordinary  processes  of 
scho  »1  education. 

Importance  of  commencing  early  the  study  of  Nature. — But  while 
no  formal  or  extensive  study  of  these  branches  can  be  rationally 
attempted  in  primary  education,  it  is  most  emphatically  true,  that,  in 
the  study  of  nature,  more  than  in  other  forms  of  intellectual  action, 
nothing  can  be  advantageously  done  but  on  condition  of  an  early  be 
ginning,  and  the  judicious  improvement  of  the  opportunity  afforded 
during  the  period  of  leisure  and  susceptibility  which  occurs  to  all 
human  beings  but  once  in  life.  Childhood  and  youth  are,  by  the 
Creator's  appointment,  the  period  for  forming  taste  and  acquiring 
habits.  The  most  resolute  struggles  in  after  years,  seldom  succeed  in 
effecting  a  change  of  mental  occupation,  or  in  lending  attractive  inter- 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  21 

estto  new  pursuits.  The  "pliant  hour"  must  be  taken  for  all  pro 
cesses  of  mental  budding,  grafting,  or  pruning,  as  well  as  in  those  of 
the  orchard.  An  early  dip  into  the  study  of  nature,  will  serve  to 
saturate  the  whole  soul  with  a  love  for  it  so  strong  as  to  insure  the 
prosecution  of  such  subjects  for  life.  The  season  is  auspicious ;  the 
senses  are  fresh  and  susceptible ;  the  mind  is  awake ;  the  heart  is 
alive;  the  .memory  is  retentive  ;  nature  is  yet  a  scene  of  novelty  and 
delight ;  and  application  is  a  pleasure.  The  twig  may  now  be  bent 
in  the  direction  in  which  the  tree  is  to  be  inclined. 

Universal  susceptibility  to  instruction,  drawn  from  Nature. — Tn  a 
diversified  experience  of  nearly  forty  years  in  the  field  of  education, 
one  teacher,  at  least,  can  testify  that  he  has  not  yet  found  the  mind 
so  dull,  or  the  heart  so  callous,  as  to  resist  the  attractive  intellectual 
influence  of  the  analysis  of  even  one  plant  or  one  mineral.  The 
mysteries  of  beauty  and  awe  which  hang  over  such  objects,  as  an 
investing  celestial  glory,  entrancing  the  imagination  and  the  heart, 
and  all  but  translating  the  intellect  itself,  have  a  power  of  attraction 
which  the  dullest,  coarsest,  and  most  brutalized  boy  in  a  ragged 
school,  cannot  resist.  But  of  the  moral  influence  of  early  education, 
when  directed  to  the  aspects  of  nature,  it  will  be  more  appropriate  to 
speak  in  that  special  connection. 

Effects  produced  on  mental  character,  by  the  study  of  Nature. — 
The  solidity  and  the  jirmncss  of  mental  character,  which  are  acquired 
by  the  study  of  things,  preceding  and  accompanying  that  of  words 
and  books,  are  a  natural  effect  of  the  early  and  seasonable  cultivation 
of  the  habit  of  observing,  analyzing,  comparing,  and  classifying,  which 
even  the  slight  examination  of  any  natural  object  induces. — A 
clear,  decisive,  and  discriminating  judgment,  and  a  retentive  memory, 
are  among  the  other  fruits  of  that  mental  training  which  commences 
with  definite  objects,  capable  of  being  analyzed  and  reconstructed  by 
the  natural  and  appropriate  action  of  the  young  mind,  in  virtue  of  its 
own  powers  and  native  tendencies.  But  these  considerations,  also  be 
long  properly  to  another  and  more  advanced  stage  of  intellectual  dis 
cipline,  at  which  the  reflective  faculties,  and  maturing  reason,  are 
beginning  to  put  forth  their  claims  for  culture  and  development,  in 
addition  to  the  preparatory  training  which  they  may  have  received 
in  the  blended  exercises  of  sense  and  intellect,  in  the  action  of  the 
perceptive  faculties. 

(4.)    KNOWLEDGE,    THE    INTELLECTUAL    RESULT    OF     THE    ACTION    OF 
THE    PERCEPTIVE    FACULTIES. 

Impelled  by  the  instinct  of  curiosity,  and  guided  by  the  habit  of 
observation,  the  young  mind, — whether  more  or  less  assisted  by 


22  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE   FACULTIES. 

education, — advances  to  the  goal  designated  by  creative  Wisdom, — 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  the  appointed  means  for  erecting  the 
fabric  of  character  on  the  scale  outlined  by  the  Great  Architect,  but 
left  to  man's  industry  and  intelligence,  for  the  filling  up  and  the  sym 
metry  of  detail. 

The  part  of  education  which  lies  more  immediately  before  us,  as 
the  object  of  our  attention,  being  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect,  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  becomes,  in  this  view,  a  consideration  of 
primary  importance,  as,  at  once,  a  source  of  intellectual  wealth 
and  power,  and  a  most  effective  means  of  mental  development. 
Knowledge,  as  a  result  of  culture,  is  undoubtedly  of  inferior  value  to 
discipline.  But  the  efforts  put  forth  in  the  acquisition  of  genuine 
knowledge,  are,  in  themselves,  a  disciplinary  process,  and  the  indis 
pensable  instruments  of  further  cultivation.  Yet  more, — intellectual 
acquirements  are  true  and  durable  riches, — valuable  for  their  own 
sake,  not  merely  from  the  resources  which  the  accumulation  of  them 
places  at  the  mind's  command,  but  from  their  own  intrinsic  value,  as 
imperishable  because  intellectual  things,  and  as  the  successive  steps 
of  mental  elevation  in  the  scale  of  being.  In  reference  to  intellect, 
knowledge  is,  in  one  most  important  sense,  an  end,  not  less  than  a 
means  and  a  measure  of  progress.  Profound,  extensive,  and  varied 
knowledge,  is  one  of  the  crowning  glories  of  man,  as  an  intellectual 
and  progressive  being,  capable  of  ceaseless  development  and  acquisi 
tion.  Most  emphatically  is  this  true  of  him,  the  soundness,  and  ex 
actness,  and  completeness,  of  whose  knowledge,  are  the  assurance 
that  he  shall  be  a  safe  and  competent  guide  along  the  path  of  edu 
cation. 

Actual  knowledge. — But  what  is  knowledge  ?  IIow  is  it  acquired  ? 
— not  by  the  repetition  of  the  words  or  the  processes  of  others,  not 
by  the  transfer  from  one  mind  to  another  of  the  verbal  statements 
of  fact  or  of  abstract  principles,  not  by  the  formation  of  vague  and 
partial  notions,  formed  on  superficial  data,  and  floating  loosely  in  the 
mind,  not  by  a  half  perception  or  half  consciousness  of  something 
indefinite  or  supposititious,  not  by  an  assent  to  ra.ih  assumptions  or 
confident  assertions,  not  by  the  recollections  of  exte^ive  reading,  or 
perhaps,  of  attentive  listening,  retailed  in  fluent  expression,  not  by 
accumulating  the  amplest  furniture  of  second-hand  theories  and  sys 
tems,  whether  plausible  or  absurd,  or  even  logically  consistent 
Knowledge  is  what  we  have  experienced  in  our  own  intellect,  by  means 
of  our  own  observation  or  reflection,  the  fruit  of  personal  perception, 
or  of  conscious  reason,  acting  on  the  positive  data  of  sensation.  So 
narrowly  must  the  term  be  limited,  when  we  refer  to  the  action 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  23 

of  the  perceptive  faculties,  or  to  their  appropriate  training  and  disci 
pline.  Knowledge,  in  these  relations,  is  the  accurate  interpretation 
of  the  facts  of  serfa,  in  matters,  usually,  of  color,  form,  number, 
weight,  or  sound,  and  the  relations  which  these  bear  to  one  another 
in  the  processes  of  induction  and  classification.  With  the  other  sense 
of  the  term,  in  which  it  refers  whether  to  truth  or  to  theory,  and  im 
plies  the  deductions  of  reflective  reason,  we  have  not,  at  present,  to 
do.  It  belongs  to  a  subsequent  stage  of  the  analysis  of  the  modes 
of  mental  action,  as  subjected  to  the  processes  of  intellectual  cultiva 
tion,  and  occurs  in  connection  with  the  discipline  of  the  "  reflective" 
faculties. 

Literal  accuracy  of  verbal  statement,  a  false  test  of  knowledge. — 
The  acquisition  of  knowledge,  however,  is,  notwithstanding  all  our 
advances,  of  late  years,  in  the  philosophy  of  education,  too  generally 
confounded  with  the  repetition  of  the  verbal  statements  of  definitions, 
rules,  and  systems,  as  contained  in  books,  even  in  relations  so  palpa 
ble  as  those  of  form  and  numbers.  The  test  of  knowledge,  accord 
ingly,  with  some  teachers,  to  this  day,  is,  even  in  the  exact  sciences, 
the  fluency  with  which  a  definition  or  a  rule  is  orally  repeated,  ver 
batim,  from  a  text-book,  and  the  mechanical  accuracy  or  despatch 
with  which  a  correspondent  problem  is  solved,  or  a  proposition 
demonstrated. 

True  knowledge  experimental  and  personal.  —  True  perceptive 
knowledge,  on  the  other  hand,  or  that  which  is  actual  and  personal, 
implies,  in  all  relations  of  form  and  number,  that  the  individual  who 
possesses  it,  has  seen  the  object  in  question,  or  its  representative,  in 
palpable  shape,  in  surface  or  in  outline,  that  he  has  subjected  it  to 
actual  measurement  and  comparison,  or  has  an  exact  image  of  its 
form  and  configuration  before  h's  mind,  that  he  has  actually  counted 
or  grouped  objects  in  numbers  presented  to  the  eye  or  to  the  mind, 
or  that  he  has  compared  these  with  one  another,  and  traced  their  re 
lations,  by  strict  and  exact  observation ;  and  the  proper  office  of  the 
text- book  is  but  to  confirm  and  embody  the  result,  and  classify  it  in 
the  exact  language  and  systematic  arrangement  of  formal  science,  as 
the  specimens  are  labelled  and  shelved  in  a  collector's  cabinet.  The 
use  of  scientific  method,  in  the  statements  of  text-books,  is  but  to 
give  logical  arrangement  to  mental  acquisitions,  not  to  induce  mere 
assent,  whether  silent  or  oral,  and  not  to  facilitate  the  mere  repetition 
or  verbal  enunciation  of  propositions. 

The  proper  business  of  the  teacher,  as  a  superintendent  of  mind. — 
The  true  office  of  the  teacher  is  to  see  that  the  pupil  is  led  by  his 
own  conscious  experience  and  observation,  through  ^he  process  of 


24  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

perception  prescribed  in  every  exercise  which  he  attempts  ;  that  the 
operation  is  intelligently  performed  at  every  step^nd  the  result  ren 
dered  certain,  as  far  as  the  limitations  of' human  faculties  permit. 
By  frequently  repeated  performance  of  the  requisite  process,  the  prin 
ciple  in  question  thus  becomes  an  integral  part  of  personal  knowledge 
with  the  individual ;  and  his  faculties  receive,  at  the  same  time,  a 
discipline  which  gives  them  facility  and  force  in  all  analogous  pro 
cedure  in  which  expertness  and  skill  are  desirable  attainments.  In 
due  season,  also,  he  is  able  to  sum  up  his  acquirements  in  knowl 
edge,  in  the  clear  and  definite  and  precise  language  whieji  science 
demands,  and  of  which  his  text-book  furnishes  a  perfect  specimen  on 
which  he  can  rely. 

At  first,  however,  the  young  operator  may  need  even  the  palpable 
aid  of  actual  objects  ;  and  the  judicious  teacher  knows  well  when  to 
give,  and  when  to  withhold  such  help,  when  to  appeal  to  the  black 
board,  and  when  to  have  his  pupil  rely  on  the  mind's  eye,  dining  the 
successive  stages  of  intellectual  training.  lie  is  careful,  however,  not 
to  slight  or  hurry  over  the  business  of  the  rudimental  course,  in 
which  the  reference  to  actual  objects  is  the  main  reliance  for  a  sure 
personal  knowledge  of  the  facts  of  form  and  number.  The  collateral 
discipline,  also,  arising  from  the  attentive  observation  and  careful 
studv  of  plants,  minerals,  leaves,  insects,  and  other  natural  objects, 
the  intelligent  teacher  values  highly,  from  the  power  of  attention,  and 
the  habit  of  exact  observation,  which  it  tends  to  secure,  by  the  defi- 
niteness  which  it  gives  to  the  action  of  the  mind,  and  the  certainty 
which  it  stamps  on  knowledge. 

Contrasted  examples  of  neglect  and  culture. — True  education  lias 
no  more  striking  proof  of  its  good  effect  than  may  be  observed,  when 
the  apathy  and  ignorance  of  young  persons  who  have  been  allowed 
to  neglect  the  observation  and  study  of  nature  in  childhood,  and 
afterwards  to  go  through  a  class-drill  on  a  given  branch,  by  means 
of  a  text-book,  are  contrasted  with  the  intelligent  personal  interest 
and  intimate  knowledge  of  those  who  have  been  wisely  induced  to 
turn  flu  early  attention  on  the  productions  of  nature,  and  thus  to 
acquire  an  early  love  for  such  studies,  and  a  life-long  enjoyment  of 
the  pleasures  which  they  afford.  Adults  of  the  former  class  take 
little  interest  in  the  "floral  apostK-s"  of  the  poet,  who  are  ceaselessly 
preaching  the  perfection  of  their  Source,  or  in  the  pebble  at  tlieir  f«-rt, 
which,  to  the  intelligent  eye,  is  the  medallion  struck  by  the  Creator's 
hand,  in  commemoration  of  one  of  the  epochs  in  His  reign.  These 
eloquent  monitions  of  a  perpetual  Divine  presence,  are,  to  such  minds, 
the  dead  letter  $f  a  handwriting  which  they  have  not  been  accustom- 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  25 

ed  to  trace,  and  on  which  their  listless  eye  falls,  as  does  that  of 
the  sceptic,  on  the  page  of  written  revelation.  The  mind,  on  the 
other  hand,  which  has  been  early  trained  to  an  intelligent  personal 
interest  in  the  productions  of  Creative  wisdom  and  power,  enjoys  a 
personal  property,  and  a  personal  reference,  in  every  object  in  nature, 
rinds,  in  **  the  meanest  flower  that  blows,  thoughts  that  do  often  lie 
too  deep  for  tears ; "  and  ultimately  to  it, 

"  The  delicate  forest  flower, 

With  fragrant  breath,  and  look  so  like  a  smile, 

Seems,  as  it  issues  from  the  shapeless  mould,       _^-  ( 

An  emanation  of  the  indwelling  Life, 

A  visible  token  of  the  upholding  Love, 

Which  are  the  soul  of  this  wide  universe." 

The  definiteness  and  the  certainty,  however,  which  give  conscious 
life  and  power  to  all  such  knowledge,  depend,  to  a  great  extent,  on 
the  faithful  training  which  the  perceptive  power  has  undergone  in  the 
nurturing  stage  of  education.  The  poet  whose  words  of  truth  and 
love  convince  us  that  he  has  attained  to  the  rank  of  an  inspired  seer, 
set  out  on  his  career  from  the  common  starting  place  of  infancy,  in 
blank  ignorance  of  every  object  and  of  every  fact  around  him ;  and 
his  brother  bard  whose  office  it  is  to  announce,  in  the  language  of 
astronomy,  the  harmony  of  the  spheres,  and  read  to  mankind  the 
legislation  of  the  heavens,  had  no  vantage  ground  at  his  outset  on 
those  excursions  which  ultimately  extend  beyond  Orion  and  the  Pleiades. 
Nor  was  there  any  special  dispensation  antecedent  to  the  slow  but  sure 
processes  of  culture,  in  favor  of  the  electrician  who,  in  the  maturity 
of  his  acquirements,  became  competent  to  transmit  and  diffuse  intel 
ligence  with  the  literal  rapidity  of  lightning ;  and  what  shall  we  say 
of  the  barefooted  mason's  boy,  who  commences  his  career  of  "  glory 
and  of  joy,"  plodding  over  the  stone  which  he  has  broken  with  his 
unpraciiced  apprentice  hammer,  and,  at  length,  reads,  from  that 
same  fragment,  to  the  delight  and  astonishment  of  mankind,  the  facts 
of  an  antediluvian  world  ?  All  the  treasures  which  such  minds  have 
brought  from  their  various  explorations,  as  tributes  to  the  treasury  of 
science,  and  to  man's  dominion  in  the  sphere  of  knowledge,  are  but 
the  varied  fruits  of  unwearied,  progressive  observation,  accumulating 
fact  upon  fact  by  the  patient  process  of  attentive  examination  of 
objects,  and  by  the  skillful  exercise  of  well  disciplined  perceptive  fac 
ulties.  Such  noble  efforts  of  mental  power  we  contemplate  with  a 
delight  mingled  with  reverence  and  gratitude  to  their  authors,  as 
benefactors  of  the  race.  The  worship  which  human  ignorance,  in  its 
wondering  admiration,  extended,  of  old,  to  the  mythic  derm-god  and 
hero,  might,  we  think,  have  been  pardoned  had  it  been  offered  to 


26  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

our  venerated  contemporary  Huniboldt,  who,  at  an  age  rarely  attained 
by  modern  man,  withdraws,  at  intervals,  from  the  onerous  duties -of  a 
councilor  of  state,  to  record  the  acquisitions  of  a  mind  which,  from 
early  years,  has  been  exploring  the  wonders  of  nature,  and  now,  year 
after  year,  pours  forth  another  and  another  book  of  the  great  epic  of 
creation,  to  which  he  has  so  appropriately  given  the  sublime  title, 
"  Cosmos." 

The  written  life  of  this  truly  great  man,  however,  only  enables  us 
to  trace  the  progress  of  another  watchful  observer  of  nature,  as,  step 
by  step,  he  observes,  examines,  compares,  classifies,  aggregates,  and 
accumulates,  till  he  stands  before  us  an  intellectual  Atlas,  upholding 
the  sphere  of  human  knowledge.  Liberal  education,  favorable  oppor 
tunities  faithfully  improved,  an  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  and 
devoted  application  to  the  acquisition  of  it,  explain  the  wonder.  Let 
us  inquire  then,  for  a  moment,  into  the  processes  by  which  human 
culture  achieves  the  miracle  of  such  results. 

(5.)    THE    APPROPRIATE    EDUCATIONAL    PROCESSES    FOR  THE    EXERCISE, 
DEVELOPMENT,  AND  DISCIPLINE,  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

The  law  of  progressive  intellection. — Watching  the  successive  steps 
of  man's  intellectual  development,  as  he  advances,  consciously  or  un 
consciously,  in  pliancy  and  power  of  mind,  we  see  him  first  incited 
by  an  irrepressible  principle  of  curiosity,  stimulating  him  to  watchful 
attention,  close  observation,  and  minute  inspection,  for  the  purjx>se  of 
acquiring  a  satisfactory  knowledge  of  things  around  him  ;  that  he 
may,  in  due  season,  be  prepared  to  enter  upon  a  new  and  higher 
cycle  of  his  ceaseless  progress,  and  from  the  materials  of  perception, 
feed  the  reflective  faculties  of  judyment  and  reason,  which  lead  to  the 
higher  goal  of  truth,  where  alone  the  cravings  of  intellect  can  find 
rest  and  satisfaction. 

Provision  of  educational  apparatus. — The  first  care  of  the  watch 
ful  and  intelligent  teacher,  as  the  guide  and  director  of  the  intellect, 
is  obviously,  in  compliance  with  the  law  of  intellectual  progress,  as 
traced  above,  to  make  liberal  provision  of  the  palpable  material  of 
perception,  by  which  the  instinctive  appetite  of  curiosity  is  at  once 
fed  and  stimulated,  attention  awakened,  observation  secured,  and 
knowledge  attained.  Objects  abundant  in  number,  and  varied  in 
character,  form  and  aspect,  but  chiefly  those  furnished  by  nature,  and, 
more  particularly,  those  which  occur  most  frequently  within  the 
rano^e  of  the  child's  actual  observation,  are  the  true  and  appropriate 
apparatus  of  his  education.  To  the  examination  and  inspection  of 
these  his  mind  naturally  tends  ;  to  the  process  of  extracting  knowl 
edge  from  these,  his  perceptive  powers  are  expressly  adapted  ;  in  such 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  27 

occupation  he  takes  delight ;  working  on  such  material,  he  is  inspired 
by  the  consciousness  of  progress  and  of  perpetually  augmenting  vigor ; 
and  thus  he  becomes  a  willing  and  efficient,  because  an  intelligent 
agent  in  his  own  development. 

DISCIPLINE  OF  THE  SENSES. — Sight ;  color. — Sensation,  though  the 
humblest  form  of  mental  action,  being  the  first  in  the  natural  order 
of  intellectual  development,  suggests  to  the  parent  and  teacher  the 
great  importance  of  a  due  attention  to  the  early  cultivation  of  the 
senses,  especially  of  those  whose  action  is  so  distinctly  intellectual  in 
character  and  result  as  is  that  of  sight  and  hearing.  The  proper  or 
ganic  training  of  the  eye  implies,  what  is  too  often  overlooked,  an 
attentive  regar<|  to  color,  as  well  as  form  ;  the  former  of  these  being 
very  early  developed,  and  evidently,  in  all  normal  cases,  a  source  of 
peculiar  delight  in  infancy,  not  less  than  of  high  aesthetic  gratification 
in  subsequent  appreciation  of  beauty,  both  in  nature  and  art.  .Long 
before  the  infant  shows  any  distinctive  recognition  or  appreciation  of 
form,  it  manifests  a  keen  perception  and  intense  pleasure  in  the  obser 
vation  of  all  objects  of  brilliant  color. 

Under  the  management  of  the  judicious  mother,  balls  of  the  three 
grand  primary  colors  of  the  painter, — blue,  red,  and  yellow, — form 
an  inexhaustible  source  of  pleasure  to  the  infant  eye  ;  while  they  give 
an  unconscious  exercise  and  discipline  to  the  perceptive  faculty,  and 
prepare  the  way  for  the  subsequent,  definite,  and  intelligent  recogni 
tion  of  the  great  lines  of  distinction  drawn  on  the  field  of  vision  by 
the  Hand  which  has  blended  color  with  light.  Field  or  garden  flow 
ers,  or  even  wayside  weeds,  placed  within  the  range  of  the  eye,  serve 
a  similar  purpose.  Subsequently,  the  principal  intermediate  grada 
tions  of  color,  as  they  occur  in  objects  of  nature  or  of  art,  in  varied 
tints  and  hues,  may  be  presented  to  the  sight,  in  due  succession,  as  a 
pleasing  exercise  for  the  faculties  of  childhood,  in  its  progress.  For  this 
purpose,  flowers,  the  prism,  the  tints  and  half  tints  of  the  clouds,  the 
glow,  or  the  hue  of  evening  and  morning  skies,  throughout  the  year ; 
the  ever-varying  colors  of  autumn,  from  their  fullest  flush  to  their 
gradual  waning  and  decay  ;  all  are  admirable  materials  for  the  intel 
lectual  and  aesthetic  cultivation  of  the  human  being,  along  the  suc 
cessive  stages  of  his  development.  The  mind  early  trained  to  a  sense 
of  the  beauty  of  color,  can  hardly  be  withheld,  in  after  years,  from 
the  profoundest  application  to  the  study  of  light,  as  "  a  feast  of  nee- 
tared  sweets,  where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns."  Purity  and  perfection 
of  taste  in  art,  are  another  sure  result  of  early  cultivation,  in  this  res 
pect.  How  much  intelligence,  and  how  much  intensity  of  pure  and 
even  sacred  gratification,  may  thus  be  superadded  to  the  sentiment 


28  EDUCATION  OF  THE   PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

of  reverential  delight  in  the  works  of  the  Creator,  it  would  bo  diffi 
cult  for  even  the  most  skillful  master  of  expression  to  say. 

Form. — The  early  cultivation  of  a  discriminating  perception  of 
the  distinctive  characters  of  form,  through  a  carefully  conducted,  pro 
gressive  discipline  on  objects  submitted  to  the  eye,  is  one  of  the  most 
purely  intellectual  processes  to  which  the  mind  of  childhood  can  be 
subjected.  The  cube,  the  sphere,  the  cylinder,  the  cone,  the  pyra 
mid,  when  judiciously  introduced  among  the  playthings  of  early 
childhood,  as  was  strikingly  exemplified  in  the  schools  of  Pestalozzi, 
become  unconsciously,  but  most  surely,  a  basis  and  standard  in  all 
the  relations  of  form  ;  and,  under  the  guiding  suggestions  of  the 
teacher,  they  tend  to  give  the  mind  definiteness  and* certainty  in  its 
action,  on  whatever  relates  to  geometrical  details  of  figure  in  nature, 
art,  or  mechanism.  The  primary  truths  of  solid,  superficial,  and  lin 
ear  geometry,  are  thus  imbedded  in  the  mind,  identified  with  its  ac 
tion  on  all  visible  objects,  and  help  to  constitute  the  observer  an 
intelligent  spectator,  through  life,  of  the  grand  elemental  forms  of 
the  universe. 

Measure. — Convenience  and  utility,  too,  have  their  claims  to  urge 
in  favor  of  an  early  discipline  of  the  eye  on  all  details  of  measure 
ment.  An  exact  appreciation  of  measure,  for  in-door  purposes,  should 
be  laid  in  permanent  inch,  and  half  and  quarter  inch  marks,  on  the 
school-room  wall ;  and  to  these  should  be  added  those  of  the  foot 
and  the  yard.  A  mile,  with  its  subdivision  into  halves,  and  quarters, 
should  be  measured  off,  as  a  permanent  standard  for  the  young  eye, 
as  it  approaches  or  leaves  the  threshold  of  the  school-room.  The 
acre  and  the  rod,  and  all  other  details  of  land  measure,  should  be 
made  familiar  to  the  eye  of  boyhood,  by  express  measurement,  in  the 
nearest  accessible  field  or  square. 

Number. — Veritable  ideas  of  number  belong,  also,  to  the  early  dis 
cipline  of  the  eye,  and  are  greatly  dependent  on  the  actual  presentation 
of  objects,  for  this  special  purpose.  We  read,  in  the  accounts  of  one 
English  exploring  voyage,  that  the  inhabitants  of  one  group  of  islands 
in  the  Pacific,  had  do  definite  ideas  of  any  number  over  five ;  and  ex 
perienced  teachers  are  well  aware  that,  in  the  case  of  pupils  accus 
tomed  to  depend  on  the  mere  verbal  memory  of  the  words  which 
represent  numbers,  and  unprovided  with  a  firm  l«isis  of  actual  obser 
vation  of  palpable  objects,  and  the  personal  knowledge  which  such 
f\j>'  rience  gives,  there  is  an  obstinate  difficulty  in  forming  definite 
and  distinct  conceptions  of  numbers,  which  resembles,  too  nearly,  the 
confusion  and  helplessness  of  mind  felt  by  those  unfortunate  island- 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  29 

ers,  in  their  attempts  to  transcend  the  limits  of  their  terminal  num 
ber,  five. 

Most  of  the  early  arithmetical  operations  of  very  young  pupils, 
should  consist  in  handling  and  counting  visible  objects,  in  enumera 
ting  marks,  in  grouping  objects  and  marks,  in  numbers  gradually  pro 
gressive,  from  the  smallest  to  the  largest  in  amount ;  so  as  to  secure 
expertness  and  promptness  in  the  process  of  addition,  in  varied  forms. 
Successive  exercises  should  follow  in  multiplication,  in  subtraction, 
and  division,  all  performed,  day  after  day,  on  visible  objects  handled, 
and  on  marks  expressly  made  for  such  purposes  of  training,  before 
the  purely  mental  processes  of  arithmetic  are  attempted  on  abstract 
numbers,  even  of  the  smallest  groups.  A  prevalent  error  with  teach 
ers  still  continues  to  be  that  of  merely  exemplifying  true  teaching  in 
such  forms  as  have  been  mentioned,  for  a  limited  period,  too  limited 
to  tell  upon  the  habits  of  the  mind.  Long  continued  training  alone, 
is  adequate  to  the  proper  purposes  of  discipline,  certainty  and  skill, 
namely,  in  forming  combinations  which  must  sometimes  be  both  ex 
tensive  and  complicated.  It  is  unreasonable  to  expect  rapidity  and 
expertness  in  the  processes  of  mental  arithmetic,  without  the  prepar 
atory  discipline  which  results  from  the  actual  observation  of  the  facts 
of  number  and  combination,  in  objects  presented  to  the  senses.  Such 
discipline  alone,  can  yield  that  personal  knowledge,  and  that  con 
scious  grasp  of  mind,  which  give  clearness  and  certainty  to  the  action 
of  the  intellect  in  arithmetical  operations. 

Natural  objects  :  animated  forms. — But  it  is  not  merely  the  co.n- 
templation  of  inanimate  objects  which  the  mind,  in  childhood, 
requires  as  a  foundation  for  true  perception  and  exact  observation,  or 
as  a  means  of  securing  prompt  and  sustained  attention.  The  liberal 
training  of  the  senses,  as  a  primary  step  in  intellectual  cultivation, 
extends  the  study  of  color,  form,  number,  and  sound,  to  the  rich  do 
main  of  animated  nature,  in  the  animal  as  well  as  the  vegetable  king 
dom,  and  thus  brings  the  .vivid  sympathy  of  the  young  heart  with 
kindred  life  and  motion  to  the  aid  of  the  opening  intellect.  From 
the  pebble,  the  shell,  the  flower,  and  the  leaf,  the  judicious  mother 
and  teacher  will  pass  to  the  insect,  the  bird,  the  quadruped,  and  the 
fish  ;  and  as  their  individualities  and  diversities  are  successively  enu 
merated  and  dwelt  upon,  the  details  of  color,  form,  and  number, 
arrest  and  fix  the  volatile  attention  of  the  child,  and  win  him  to 
habits  of  close,  minute,  and  exact  observation. 

Analysis  and  classification,  the  two  great  master  powers  for  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge,  in  whatever  direction,  are  also  thus  called 
in  to  aid  the  progress  of  the  young  observer  in  his  study  of  nature. 


30  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

The  tendency  of  the  mind  to  observe,  compare,  examine,  and  classify 
whatever  is  submitted  to  its  action,  thus  early  encouraged  and  stimu 
lated,  becomes  an  habitual  trait  of  the  mental  character,  and  tells, 
with  powerful  effect,  on  the  intellectual  progress  of  the  individual,  in 
the  more  abstract  relations  of  language  and  of  mathematics.  It  is  a 
great  error  to  suppose  that,  because  of  the  intense  pleasure  which 
attends  the  study  of  natural  objects,  there  is  not  a  profound  and  rig 
orous  discipline  of  mind  attending  the  equally  intense  intellectual 
action  which  accompanies  the  pleasure.  Analytic  examination  is  one 
and  the  same  process,  whether  it  is  directed  to  the  component  parts 
of  a  plant  or  of  a  word.  Keen  and  penetrating  attention,  close, 
minute,  and  thoughtful  observation,  exhaustive  analysis,  systematic 
arrangement,  and  methodical  classification,  are  equally  indispensable 
in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  But  in  giving  precedence  to  the 
study  of  the  object,  and  postponing  that  of  the  word,  we  are  obeying 
the  ordination  of  the  Creator,  who  has  furnished  the  apparatus  of 
the  first  stages  of  human  development,  in  the  natural  objects  which 
first  solicit  the  attention  of  the  child,  by  the  attractions  of  beauty 
and  pleasure. 

Pictorial  art. — Nor  is  it  only  by  means  of  natural  objects  that  the 
sense  of  sight  contributes  to  the  exercise  and  discipline  of  the  per 
ceptive  intellect.  Art,  too,  renders  here  a  rich  tribute  to  the  re 
sources  of  education.  Models  and  pictures,  .and  the  humblest  attempts 
to  produce  these,  as  repetitions  of  the  mental  impressions  received  from 
nature,  give  inexpressible  delight  to  the  susceptible  and  imitative  spirit 
of  childhood.  Their  effect  is  invaluable,  in  trailing  the  perceptive 
faculties  to  the  keenest,  closest,  long-sustained  action,  without  the 
sense  of  weariness  or  fatigue ;  and  their  inspiring  and  refreshing 
influence  gives  vivacity  and  force  to  the  whole  mind.  The  clear  per 
ception,  fixed  attention,  watchful  observation,  and  active  exertion, 
which  they  both  require  and  cherish,  particularly  when  the  child  is 
permitted  to  attempt  to  produce  imitative  efforts  of  his  own,  in  draw 
ing  or  modelling,  meet  so  successfully  the  craving  of  the  young 
spirit  for  action  and  endeavor,  that  they  become  powerful  aids  to 
mental  development.  The  working  hand  is  thus  brought  to  the  aid 
of  the  active  eye,  as  a  test,  at  the  same  time,  of  its  correctness  of 
vision,  which  is  proved  by  the  degree  of  truthfulness  in  the  delinea 
tion.  This  productive  method  of  exercising  the  perceptive  and  exec 
utive  faculties,  yields  to  the  child  the  peculiar  delight  of  having 
achieved  something  palpable,  as  a  proof  of  power,  and  is,  meanwhile, 
working  in  his  mind  the  silent  effect  which  is  to  appear,  in  due  season, 
in  the  symmetry  and  gracefulness  of  his  handwriting,  and  the  neat 
ness  of  whatever  he  attempts,  whether  in  plan  or  execution. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  gj 

The  ear :  music. — The  varied  world  of  sound,  comprising  music 
and  speech,  is  another  wide  field  of  culture  to  the  intelligent  mother 
and  the  elementary  teacher.  The  extent  to  which  the  sense  of  sight 
may  be  cultivated,  as  regards  precision  and  certainty  and  truth  of 
action,  is  indicated  in  the  perfection  which  is  attained  by  the  sculptor 
and  the  painter,  whose  copies  of  nature  are,  in  some  instances,  so 
faithful,  and  so  beautifully  perfect,  as  to  confer  an  immortality  of 
fame  upon  their  authors.  But  little  notice,  comparatively,  is  taken  of 
the  delicate  susceptibility  of  the  ear,  in  relation  to  the  offices  of  cul 
ture.  Yet  no  sense,  not  even  that  of  sight  itself,  is  capable  of  attain 
ing  to  so  high  perfection  by  the  aids  of  training  and  discipline.  The 
innumerable  minute  distinctions  of  sound,  which  the  performance  of 
even  a  single  piece  of  music,  by  a  single  performer,  often  requires ; 
but,  still  more,  the  multitude  which  the  composer  of  one  of  the  mas 
ter-pieces  of  harmony  must  be  capable  of  recognizing,  discriminating, 
and  combining,  with  a  measured  exactness  transcending  all  other 
efforts  of  perceptive  intellect:  these  remind  us,  most  impressively,  of 
the  extent  and  value  of  cultivation,  when  we  recall  the  fact,  that 
the  performer  and  the  composer  commenced  their  artistic  training  on 
the  common  footing  of  all  human  beings,  a  percipient  mind,  and  an 
organ  capable  of  telegraphing  to  it  the  notes  of  the  singing  bird,  the 
song  of  the  mother  or  the  nurse,  or  the  artless  strains  of  some  juve 
nile  performer  on  pipe  or  flute. 

Speech. — We  have  yet  another  proof  of  the  susceptibility  of  the 
ear  to  the  influences  of  cultivation,  when  "  the  well  trod  stage,"  in 
the  exhibition  of  a  play  of  the  *  myriad-minded'  Shakspeare,  displays 
in  the  voice  of  the  skillful  actor,  the  whole  world  of  human  passion, 
with  its  ever-varying  tones,  uttered  in  the  language  of  poetic  inspira 
tion,  now  moulded  by  the  serene  influence  of  heavenly  contempla 
tion,  as  when  Lorenzo  speaks  to  Jessica,  while  they  sit  on  the  moon 
lit  bank,  of  the  "  smallest  orb  which  she  beholds,  still  quiring  to  the 
young-eyed  cherubim  ; "  now  bfeathing  the  deep  tones  of  Hamlet, 
solemnly  musing  on  the  mysteries  of  life,  and  death,  and  destiny  ; 
now  the  hollow  mutterings  of  conscious  guilt  from  Mafbeth,  while 
meditating  the  murder  from  which  he  yet  recoils  ;  now  the  hoarse 
accents  of  remorse  wrung  from  the  bosom  of  him  whose  "  offence  is 
rank"  with  the  blood  of  "a  brother's  murder;"  now  the  scarce  articu 
late  horror  of  •"  false,  fleeting,  purjured  Clarence;"  the  maddened 
scream  ;of  mingling  grief  and  rage  from  the  injured  mother,  Con 
stance  ;  the  love  raptures  of  the  empassioned  Romeo ;  the  ringing 
laughter, of  Mercuiio  ;,  or  the  torture  of  Othello,  as  he  fluctuates  from 


32  EDUCATION   OF  THE   PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

the  ecstacies  of  overflowing  love  and  joy,  to  the  curses  of  hatred,  the 
outbursts  of  grief,  and  the  agonies  of  despair. 

In  all  these  forms  the  well  trained  actor,  by  the  mastery  of  his 
artistic  skill,  exerts  a  power  over  the  sympathies  of  Ijis  audience 
which  far  transcends  the  highest  achievements  of  representative  art 
in  any  other  form.  The  arduous  training  to  which  the  histrionic 
artist  subjects  his  voice,  in  order  to  produce  such  effects,  shows  to 
what  extent  the  cultivation  of  the  ear  may  be  carried.  It  is  by  the 
indications  of  this  faithful,  prompting  monitor,  that  he  guides  every 
step  of  his  vocal  efforts,  till  he  attains  to  those  consummate  effects  of 
genius  which,  in  some  instances,  have  conferred  on  the  individual  a 
fame  coextensive  with  the  civilized  world.  Yet  he  who  is,  perhaps, 
thus  renowned,  commenced  his  early  efforts,  with  the  usual  stumb 
ling  utterance  of  a  school-boy. 

Enunciation. — Passing  from  the  higher  sphere  of  music  and  poe 
try,  in  their  influence  on  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect,  through  the 
medium  of  sense,  we  come  to  one  of  the  most  important  stages  of 
education,  in  the  discipline  of  the  voice  for  the  useful  purposes  of 
speech,  as  dependent  on  accuracy  of  ear, — the  only  reliable  guide  to 
correct  results.  The  unconscious  freedom  with  which  we  utter 
thoughts  in  *ur  native  tongue,  leaves  all  persons  who  are  not  advan 
tageously  trained  by  precept  or  example,  exposed  to  the  evils  of  incor 
rect  habit,  in  utterance.  The  extensive  prevalence,  also,  of  corrupted 
usage,  in  the  negligent  practice  of  general  society,  increases  the  liabil 
ity  to  error  in  the  style  of  the  individual.  There  was  wisdom  in  the 
Roman  maxim,  that  the  nurses  of  children  ought  to  be  persons  of 
correct  habit,  in  enunciation.  The  influence  of  early  example^  is  the 
most  binding  rule  of  speech,  as  the  baffled  and  disappointed  teacher, 
after  all  his  endeavors,  is  often  made  to  feel. 

One  early  begun  and  long  continued  daily  practice,  in  primary 
training,  should  consist  in  the  careful,  correct,  and  distinct  articula 
tion  of  the  component  elements  oj"  speech,  as  accomplished  in  our 
own  language.  These  should,  at  first,  be  practiced  with  reference  to 
the  exact  ^§und  of  every  letter  of  the  alphabet,  singly  and  separately ; 
afterwards  they  should  be  enunciated  in  the  groups  which  constitute 
syllables,  on  a  graduated  progressive  scale  of  difficulty,  till  every  vari 
ety  of  combination  can  be  uttered  with  perfect  distinctness  and  per 
fect  fluency ;  finally,  the  pronunciation  of  words  should  be  practiced 
in  a  similar  manner,  till  the  style  of  the  young  learner  is  freed  from 
all  corrupt  and  local  mannerism,  and  he  is  prepared  to  take  his  place 
among  the  cultivati-d  in  speech  as  well  as  thought,  and,  by  his  per 
sonal  manner  of  expression,  to  evince  the  styfe  of  educated  habit  a* 
preferable  to  that  of  vulgar  negligence. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES  33 

Elocution. — In  the  secondary  and  in  the  more  advanced  stages  of 
education,  the  discipline  of  the  ear  should  be  extended,  so  as  to  em 
brace  all  the  refining  and  highly  intellectual  influences  of  music  and 
poetry,  as  combined  in  elocution. 

Intellect,  feeling,  and  imagination,  are  all  inseparably  united  in  the 
appropriate  expression  of  sentiment,  as  embodied  in  the  language  of 
oratory  and  poetry  j  and  their  finest  effects  in  utterance  depend  on  a 
nice  susceptibility  of  ear,  which  culture  only  can  secure  to  full  extent. 
Music  and  elocution,  the  most  humanizing  of  all  arts,  prescribe  the 
apparatus  and  the  forms  of  training  to  which  the  ear  should  be  sub 
jected,  through  the  whole  course  of  education.  In  the  analysis  and 
the  discrimination  which  vocal  discipline  demands,  in  the  recognition 
which  it  secures  of  the  almost  infinitely  diversified  and  ever  varying 
character  of  tones,  in  their  expression  of  intelligence  or  of  emotion,  there 
is  an  admirable  discipline  of  intellect  implied,  which,  though  less  for 
mally  displayed  than  in  other  modes  of  exercise,  is  not,  on  that 
account,  the  less  effectual.  Of  the  high  moral  value  of  the  suscepti 
bility  which  such  training  tends  to  cherish,  it  is  not  now  the  appro 
priate  time  to  speak.  We  may  advert  to  it  under  a  subsequent  head. 

The  subject  of  healthful  2^hysical  training  is  not  now  under  con 
sideration  ;  yet  sensation,  and  consequent  perception,  are  dependent 
on  the  condition  of  the  organs  of  sense,  and  therefore  of  the  whole 
corporeal  frame,  which  must  be  in  a  healthy  condition  to  secure  the 
natural  and  true  action  of  nerve  and  brain, — the  apparatus  of  percep 
tive  action  in  the  intellect.  The  attentive  and  efficient  cultivation  of 
health  should  be  regarded,  not  merely  as  a  condition  of  intellectual 
life,  but  as  the  first  step  in  the  formation  of  intellectual  character. 
The  clear  eye  and  the  quick  ear  of  health  are  highly  intellectual  in 
their  tendencies,  and  are  for  ever  detecting  and  offering  material  for 
the  intellect  to  examine  or  explore.  The  dull  organs  of  a  morbid 
frame,  on  the  contrary,  are  too  torpid  to  respond  to  the  awakening 
touch  or  beckoning  invitation  of  nature,  and  leave  the  clouded  intel 
lect  to  sleep  or  to  dream. 

PROGRESSIVE    CHARACTER    OF    THE     PROPER    DISCIPLINE    OF    THE    PER 
CEPTIVE    FACULTIES. 

The  varied  exercises  of  eye  and  ear,  as  organs  of  sentient 
mind,  should  always,  under  the  guiding  management  of  the  teacher, 
advance  in  intellectual  character  from  stage  to  stage,  so  as  to  secure 
the  benefits  of  a  progressive  discipline,  commencing,  indeed,  at  the 
threshold  of  sense,  but  ever  tending  more  and  more  inward,  till  they 
become  nearly  inseparable  from  the  action  and  character  of  pure 
intellect.  They  thus  render  the  keen  eye  and  the  quick  ear  prompters  to 


34  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

clear  perception,  fixed  attention,  penetrating  observation,  careful  com 
parison,  and  discriminating  judgment,  and  so  conduct  to  consummate 
intelligence. 

The  teacher  who  works  in  intelligent  cooperation  with  the  consti 
tution  of  the  beings  whose  character  it  is  his  office  to  mould,  is  con 
tent  to  labor  patiently  in  the  field  of  sensation,  as,  at  first,  forming  the 
sole  ground  on  which  he  can  rationally  meet  the  dawning  mind,  with 
the  hope  to  exert  a  genial  and  effectual  influence  on  its  development. 
lie  dwells  long,  accordingly,  on  the  prominent  outward  characteris 
tics  of  objects,  as  most  accessible  to  the  unpracticed  faculties  of  infancy, 
as  best  adapted  to  elicit  their  activity,  and  tempt  them  forth  to  more 
and  more  energetic  effort.  He  furnishes,  with  no  sparing  hand,  the 
opportunities  of  intuition,  in  the  abundance  and  variety  of  the  objects 
which  he  presents  to  the  senses.  He  selects  these,  however,  with 
such  judgment  and  skill  that  the  young  mind  shall  be  incapable 
of  regarding  them  with  a  mere  vacant  aspection  or  listless  intuition, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  shall  be  made  to  feel  that  there  is  within  them 
a  soliciting  power,  a  magnetic  attraction,  to  which  its  own  nature 
responds,  and  by  which  it  is  led  on,  from  stage  to  stage,  till  it  finds 
itself  in  possession  of  the  mental  treasures  of  clear  perception  and 
definite  knowledge. 

VOLUNTARY    EXERCISE    OF    THE    PERCEPTIVE    FACULTIES,    A    CONDITION 
OF    INTELLECTUAL    DEVELOPMENT. 

Attention  as  a  voluntary  act. — The  teacher  who  recognizes  the 
law  of  intellectual  growth,  is  aware  that,  in  adopting  measures  to 
aid  the  progressive  unfolding  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  he  may  trust 
largely  to  the  mind's  own  instinctive  and  spontaneous  tendencies  to 
action,  if  only  due  provision  is  made  for  mental  activity,  by  supplying 
the  objects  of  sense  which  naturally  invite  and  stimulate  perception. 
But  regarding  the  mind  as  a  voluntary  and  self-directing  agent,  ho 
knows  that  unless  its  own  efficient  cooperation  is  secured  in  the  pro 
cesses  on  which  its  energies  are  exerted,  its  activity  will  be  ever  tending 
to  subside,  or  to  degenerate  into  mechanical  and  unmeaning  routine. 
The  result,  he  is  aware,  must,  in  such  circumstances,  be  a  morbid 
intellectual  inertness  of  habit,  or  a  deceptive  show  of  forced  organic 
action,  instead  of  the  movements  of  mental  life.  His  great  endeavor, 
therefore,  will  be  to  succeed  in  evoking  ATTENTION, — that  power  of 
the  mind  which  brings  into  vigorous  and  efficient  activity  the  percipi 
ent  intellect, — that  power  which,  by  its  own  innate  force,  impels  and 
sustains  perception,  in  whatever  direction  it  is  called  to  act,  or  in  what 
ever  process  it  is  employed. 

The  customary  definition  of  this  power,  or  faculty,  as  voluntary  per- 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  35 

ception,  suggests  to  the  educator  his  true  office  in  cultivating  and 
developing  it.  It  implies  that  he  no  longer  restricts  his  efforts  to 
presenting  such  objects  as  solicit  and  secure  the  mind's  notice,  by  the 
law  of  natural  instinct,  but  that,  addressing  himself  to  the  principle 
of  volition,  he  calls  it  forth,  as  a  moving  force,  impelling  the  mental 
machinery  from  within,  and  enabling  it  to  arrive  at  knowledge,  by  its 
own  action.  The  true  teacher  never  commits  the  error  of  resorting 
to  the  exercise  of  his  own  will,  instead  of  that  of  his  pupil,  as  the  pro 
pelling  power.  He  is  aware  that  his  success,  as  an  educator,  is  to  be 
measured,  not  by  the  force  with  which  he  can  bring  his  own  power 
of  compulsion  to  bejy  on  the  faculties  of  his  pupils,  but  by  the  intens 
ity  with  which  he  can  bring  their  mental  energies  into  voluntary  play, 
in  processes  which  leave  a  residuum  of  living  force,  as  a  result  on 
mental  character.  He  knows  well  that  no  degree  of  exertion  can 
command  attention,  by  a  mere  act  of  will,  at  the  moment ;  that,  by 
the  law  of  the  mental  constitution,  a  train  of  circumstances  must  be 
laid  before  the  desired  result  can  be  ensured  ;  that  an  exercise  of  will 
is  not,  in  the  natural  analogies  of  mental  action,  a  merely  arbitrary 
act  of  self-determination ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  will  is  solicited 
by  desire  ;  a  feeling  or  affection  of  the  mind  being  the  natural  and 
necessary  preliminary  to  volition ;  and  that  the  intelligent  guide  of 
the  intellectual  powers  must,  therefore,  appeal  to  feeling,  as  the  natu 
ral  and  reliable  prompter  of  the  will.  In  other  words,  the  educa 
tional  process,  rightly  conducted,  is  so  contrived  as  to  create  a  desire 
to  arrive  at  the  given  result,  and  proceeds  upon  that  security  for  the 
action  of  will  in  determining  the  direction  of  the  mind,  and  sustain 
ing  the  exertion  of  its  powers. 

Trained  under  such  influences,  a  disciplined  attention  is  the  sure 
fruit  of  culture ;  and  power  of  attention  is  not  unjustly  termed  the 
key  which  unlocks  all  the  gates  of  knowledge,  and  secures  an  entrance 
to  its  innermost  secrets  of  intelligence. 

Attention,  as  a  power  or  mode  of  intellectual  action,  regarded  in 
connection  with  the  cultivation  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  requires 
the  application  of  the  various  expedients  by  which  it  may  be  rendered 
prompt,  earnest,  close,  and  continuous,  as  the  exigencies  of  subjects 
and  of  the  mind  may  demand. 

Promptness  of  attention. — Such  results  imply  that  the  educator, 
as  a  skillful  gymnasiarch  in  the  arena  of  mind,  trains  it  through  every 
variety  of  evolution  by  which  it  may  be  rendered  quick  in  move 
ment,  ever  ready  for  instantaneous  action,  so  as  to  secure  that 
pliancy  and  versatility  by  which  it  can  at  once  direct  itself  to  its 
object,  or  relinquish  one  object  or  train  of  thought  for  another,  when 


36  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

the  moment  for  change  has  arrived,  and  pursue  the  object  of  its  aim 
with  whatever  velocity  of  motion  may  be  requisite  to  reach  it,  in  due 
season. 

Speed  and  despatch,  however,  not  haste  and  hurry,  should  be  the 
ends  at  which  the  teacher  aims  in  all  drilling  processes.  A  wakeful 
and  lively  attention,  ever  on  the  alert  for  action,  implies  sound  and 
healthful  and  invigorating  training.  A  harassed  and  exhausted  mind, 
dragged  or  driven  along  the  path  of  exercise  too  arduous,  or  too  long 
continued,  can  never  yield  the  results  of  genuine  discipline. 

With  very  young  pupils,  especially,  the  obvious  indication  of  nature 
is,  make  free  use  of  striking  and  attractive  objects,  illustrations,  and 
remarks.  One  object  at  a  time ;  words  few  and  well  chosen  ;  no  lag 
ging  or  drawling  on  the  part  of  either  pupil  or  teacher,  yet  no  hurry, 
no  impatience,  no  impetuosity ;  proceeding  smoothly  and  swiftly,  frut 
quietly  and  gently  in  all  movements;  yet  sometimes,  for  the  purpose 
of  arresting  attention,  adopting  the  grateful  surprise  of  a  sudden 
change,  briskly  executed  : — these  are  the  characteristics  of  skillful  and 
genial  training,  such  as  quickens  the  life  power  of  intellect. 

Earnestness  of  attention. — The  power  of  earnest  attention  is  an 
other  trait  of  mental  habit  to  which  the  successful  teacher  directs  his 
endeavors,  as  an  invaluable  attainment  to  be  secured,  through  his 
agency,  by  his  pupils.  To  this  end,  he  avoids  carefully  all  exercises 
not  interesting  or  inviting  to  the  young  mind.  Objects,  pictures,  pen 
etrating  questions,  vigorous  exertion,  in  varied  forms,  for  mind  and 
body, — strenuous  endeavor  called  forth,  at  intervals,  to  cope  with 
difficulties,  interesting  facts  stated,  or  stories  told, — the  wonders  of 
nature  and  of  art  exhibited,  interesting  conversation  maintained,  in 
which  the  pupils  interchange  thoughts  with  the  teacher,  word-pic 
tures  of  peculiar  power  and  beauty,  selected  from  the  poets,  early 
attempts  at  drawing,  exercises  in  planning  and  building,  tangible  illus 
trations  in  architecture,  masonry,  carpentry,  or  joiner-work,  in  juve 
nile  style,  for  hours  of  recreation,  the  analysis  of  plants,  the  tracing 
of  the  anatomy  of  animal  forms,  in  specimens  of  insect  organization, 
:n  the  osseous  construction  of  birds,  fishes,  reptiles,  <tc. ;  all  lessons 
made,  as  far  as  practicable,  matter  of  active  work,  rather  than  merely 
passive  attention  ;  the  ceaseless  use  of  the  slate,  the  pencil,  and  the 
blackboard,  in  recording,  repeating,  and  illustrating  every  thing  which 
admits  of  such  forms  of  expression  ;  these,  and  every  other  resort 
which  ingenuity  can  invent,  are  all  required  in  the  exigencies  of  actual 
teaching. 

Earnest  attention  and  strenuous  application,  on  the  part  of  pupils, 
arc  the  natural  result  and  unfailing  reward  of  the  teacher's  own  facil 
ity  and  skill  in  devising  and  executing  inspiring  models  of  whatever 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  37 

he  would  have  his  pupils  execute.  The  efficacy  of  his  own  ear,  eye, 
and  hand,  secured  by  his  own  self  culture,  is  the  only  guaranty  of 
his  success,  as  a  faithful  trainer  of  the  perceptive  faculties.  The  gen 
eral  introduction  of  music  and  drawing,  now  in  progress  in  all  well- 
taught  schools,  together  with  the  increasing  attention  given  to  ele 
mentary  lessons  in  botany  and  mineralogy,  is  opening  a  highly  ben 
eficial  course  of  discipline  for  the  young  mind,  in  whatever  concerns 
the  power  of  earnest  and  effective  attention,  as  an  attribute  of  intel 
lectual  character. 

Closeness  of  attention. — The  thorough  discipline  of  attention,  how 
ever,  as  the  directing  force  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  implies  that  it 
is  not  only  rendered  prompt  and  earnest  in  action,  but  close  and  minute 
in  its  application.  A  faithful  analysis  is  conditioned,  in  all  depart 
ments  of  study,  on  a  clear  and  distinct  perception  of  every  particular. 
Nothing  must  be  suffered  to  escape  notice.  No  analysis  can  be  com 
plete  that  is  not  exhaustive,  to  the  extent  of  its  object.  Close  and 
minute  inspection  is  indispensable  for  the  exact  observation  of  many 
of  the  most  instructive  and  the  most  beautiful  of  the  details  of  nature, 
in  the  forms  of  animal  and  vegetable  life, — for  the  successful  watching 
of  the  processes  of  chemistry, — for  forming  exact  estimations  of  quan 
tity  and  number, — for  tracing  the  diversities  of  even  inanimate  form, 
the  delicate  gradations  of  color,  the  minutest  difference  of  sound  and 
form,  in  the  details  of  language,  together  with  all  the  nicer  distinctions, 
and  discriminations  of  thought,  when  embodied  in  words,  for  the  pur 
poses  of  communication. 

To  secure  these  results,  we  are  again  directed  x'o  the  early  and  effec 
tual  training  of  the  perceptive  faculties  on  the  objects  of  nature,  as  the 
first  step  in  the  true  education  of  the  mind.  The  minutest  point  of 
form  in  the  structure  of  leaf  or  blossom,  the  child  traces  with  relight; 
and  this  native  tendency  of  mental  action,  extended  in  its  range  of 
objects,  and  confirmed  by  the  law  of  habit,  becomes  not  only  a  source 
of  intellectual  enjoyment,  but  of  conscious  power  and  ultimate  success, 
in  all  investigations,  not  merely  of  nature  and  external  objects,  but,  by 
the  inevitable  law  of  analogy,  in  every  department  of  research  on 
which  the  intellect  is  competent  to  enter.  The  power  of  close  atten 
tion,  sharpened  by  judicious  early  training  of  the  perceptive  faculties, 
attains  in  due  season,  to  consummate  certainty  and  success  in  those 
processes  of  minute  analysis  which  are,  in  many  instances,  the  crown 
ing  glories  of  science. 

No  contrast  can  be  more  striking  than  that  exhibited  in  the  two 
cases  of  neglect  and  culture,  in  this  relation  of  mental  action.  On  the 
one  hand,  we  have  the  loose,  superficial,  imperfect  attention,  which 


38  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

glides  listlessly  over  the  surface  of  things,  without  note,  and  conse 
quently  without  knowledge  ;  on  the  other  we  see  an  acute,  keen,  pene 
trating,  searching  inspection,  which  nothing  escapes, — a  mind  whose 
knowledge  is  exact  and  complete,  whose  information  is  the  result  of 
narrowly  examined  and  well  ascertained  particulars. 

The  intelligent  teacher,  knowing  that  the  keenest  exercises  of  dis 
criminating  judgment  are,  by  the  law  of  mental  constitution  and  habit, 
not  unfrequently  dependent  on  the  close  examination  of  details,  on  the 
power  of  tracing  and  detecting  the  minutest  shades  of  difference  in 
objects  and  their  component  parts,  leads  his  pupils,  by  the  closeness 
of  his  questioning,  to  follow  the  minutest  ramifications  of  diversity,  amid 
apparent  similarity,  in  the  objects  which  he  uses  as  instruments  for 
sharpening  their  perceptions  to  the  keenest  inspection  of  every  feature 
which  is  accessible  to  the  discernment  of  sense.  Beyond  this  point 
he  passes  to  the  use  of  the  microscope,  one  of  the  most  valuable  imple 
ments  ever  devised  as  an  aid  to  the  processes  of  human  culture.  A 
cheap  instrument  of  this  description,  in  the  hands  of  an  attentive  teacher, 
has  a  power  which  no  degree  of  mental  inertia  can  resist.  It  has  been 
knowti  to  convert,  in  a  few  days,  a  whole  school  of  uncultivated, 
thoughtless,  turbulent  children  into  an  attentive,  thoughtful,  inquiring, 
docile,  and  orderly  company  of  little  students  of  nature. 

A  few  minutes  occupied  daily  in  observing  and  tracing  the  forms 
of  objects,  in  detail,  is,  in  addition  to  its  ultimate  effects  on  mental 
habit,  of  the  greatest  service  in  the  humble  relations  of  alphabetic 
teaching.  A  ground  work -is  thus  laid  for  the  accurate  recognition  of 
the  elements  of  form  combined  in  the  visible  shapes  of  printed  and 
written  characters,  and  a  surer  and  more  rapid,  because  a  more  intel 
ligent,  progress  secured,  as  regards  the  accuracy  of  the  eye  in  recog 
nizing,  or  of  the  hand  in  repeating  the  lines,  angles,  and  curves,  which 
constitute  the  complex  forms  of  letters.  Accustomed  to  the  close  and 
minute  analysis  of  form  on  visible  objects  of  different  sorts,  the  child, 
if  permitted  to  treat  his  alphabetic  characters  in  a  similar  way,  takes 
delight  in  detecting  and  naming  their  constituent  parts  ;  and,  particu 
larly,  when  he  is  permitted  to  try  to  delineate  them  for  himself,  and 
thus,  as  it  were,  bring  them  under  a  kind  of  ideal  subjection  to  his 
power. 

The  discipline  of  particular  observation  and  searching  attention, 
early  secured,  becomes,  in  due  season,  a  complete  guaranty  for  the 
correct  and  successful  performance  of  the  various  gradations  of  math 
ematical  problems  in  which  a  well  trained  and  exact  attention  is 
required,  whether  for  the  relations  of  form  or  those  of  numbers;  and 
'hrooghoot  the  successive  stages  of  education,  in  all  its  departments. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.          39 

The  well  trained  mind  becomes  ultimately  like  the  thoroughly  mag 
netized  instrument,  which  leaves  no  stray  particles  of  the  steel-filings 
scattered  abroad,  but  agglomerates  them  every  one  to  itself;  with  a 
certainty  which  renders  the  act  no  unfitting  analogy  for  illustrating 
the  universal  law  of  gravitation. 

Tenacity  of  attention. — Having  used  his  best  endeavors  to  render 
the  faculty  of  attention  prompt,  earnest,  a"nd  close,  in  its  action,  as  the 
guide  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  the  teacher  has  yet  another  character  to 
stamp  upon  it.  He  would  have  it  not  only  quick  and  vivid,  and 
searching,  but  tenacious  and  persistent.  From  an  element  volatile, 
fluctuating,  and  superficial,  in  its  first  manifestations,  he  would  have 
it  become,  at  length,  a  power  fixed,  and  steadfast,  and  unfailing. 
Patiently  training  it  through  its  incipient  stage  of  short,  feeble  flights, 
he  inures  it  to  lengthened  excursions  and  sustained  exertions,  such  as 
all  valuable  mental  attainments  demand.  Here,  again,  Nature  comes 
to  his  aid,  furnishing  him  liberally  not  only  with  numerous  instru 
ments  of  discipline  in  her  manifold  forms,  as  objects,  individually, 
attractive  and  interesting,  but  with  those  complexities  of  shape,  and 
color,  and  number,  those  organic  relations,  and  organic  contrivances, 
those  compound  bodies,  those  intricate  combinations  of  elements  and 
processes,  which  all  require  not  only  an  earnest  and  close,  but  a  long- 
sustained,  unflagging  attention,  as  the  only  condition  of  faithful  and 
exact  observation  and  accurate  knowledge. 

The  intelligent  teacher  watches  carefully  the  progressive  develop 
ment  of  his  pupil's  power  of  attention,  and  exercises  it  according  to 
the  increasing  force  and  firmness  of  its  grasp,  so  as  to  secure  a  per 
petually  growing  power  of  retention,  through  all  the  successive  exer 
cises  which  he  contrives  for  its  discipline,  on  natural  and  artificial 
forms,  their  various  combinations,  numbers,  powers,  and  characteristics, 
of  whatever  denomination  in  the  vocabularies  of  science  and  art. 

Regarding  attention  as  the  master  power  in  the  grasp  of  the  percep 
tive  faculties,  he  values,  most  of  all,  its  strength  and  retentiveness,  its 
ability  to  maintain  an  unbroken  sequence  of  activity,  such  as  not  un- 
frequently  demands  the  incitement  of  the  most  earnest  desire  to  arrive 
at  the  wished  for  result,  and  produce,  in  turn,  the  most  resolute  deter 
mination  of  the  will  to  persevere  in  action  till  the  result  is  mastered. 

Here,  again,  the  teacher  finds  his  best  resort  in  the  objects  and  pro 
cesses  of  nature ;  unwearied  attention  is  in  no  way  so  effectually 
secured,  without  undue  or  fatiguing  exertion,  as  in  analyzing  and  in 
specting  the  various  parts  of  plants,  or  the  anatomical  mechanism  of 
animal  forms,  and,  more  particularly,  of  insects.  While  no  humane 
or  enlightened  teacher  would  ever  propose  even  one  half  hour  of 


40  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

unbroken  attention,  on  the  part  of  very  young  pupils,  twice  that  time 
may  safoly  and  advantageously  pass  in  the  suggestive  questions  of  the 
teacher,  and  the  ready  answers  of  the  pupils,  during  the  examination 
of  a  single  specimen  of  the  productions  of  nature.  In  such  circum 
stances,  instruction  takes  its  best  form, — that  of  interesting  conversa 
tion;  and  time  flies  only  too%  fast  for  both  parties  in  the  exercise. 
Another  sustained  effort  of  attention  may,  by  a  judicious  change  in 
the  form  of  mental  action,  be  as  easily  secured  by  permitting  the 
pupil  to  make  such  attempt  as  he  can  at  delineating,  in  detail,  the 
parts  of  the  object  which  he  has  been  contemplating;  still  another 
may  be  obtained  by  permitting  him  to  describe,  in  words,  and  at  full 
length,  what  he  has  observed ;  and  even  the  giant  Despair  of  "  com 
position"  may  be  conquered  by  allowing  the  pupil  to  write  his  descrip 
tion. 

Such  processes  prepare  the  young  student  in  due  season,  for  those 
arduous  and  unflagging  exertions  of  attention  by  which  he  ultimately 
succeeds  in  solving  lengthened  and  complicated  problems  in  mathe 
matics,  disentangling  long  and  inverted  sentences  by  tracing  the  gram 
matical  relations  of  their  parts,  and  following,  with  patient  assiduity, 
every  step  in  extended  and  abstruse  processes  of  reasoning  on  subjects 
more  purely  mental  in  their  character. 

The  teacher  who  would  merit  the  rank  of  an  educator,  and  who 
would  render  all  his  processes  of  instruction  not  merely  didactic  but 
disciplinary,  can  never  be  too  careful  to  accustom  himself  to  survey  the 
whole  field  of  human  culture  in  its  completeness;  to  keep  ever  before 
his  own  mind  the  strict  unity  of  the  principle  of  intelligence,  the 
analogy  and  cotendency  of  its  various  modes  of  action,  and  the  identity 
of  their  results  in  the  enlarging  and  quickening  of  its  powers,  and  the 
strengthening  of  its  grasp,  on  whatever  subject  it  may  be  called  to 
fasten.  Philosophical  writers,  of  high  repute,  have,  sometimes,  in 
their  zealous  advocacy  of  the  value  of  their  special  studies,  as  instru 
ments  of  mental  discipline,  been  led  greatly  to  underrate  the  disci 
plinary  influence  of  all  intellectual  training  connected  with  the  observ 
ation  and  study  of  nature.  They  seem  to  have  overlooked  the  fact 
that  quick,  acute,  penetrating,  close,  persevering  attention  is  one  and 
the  same  priceless  attainment,  whether  exhibited  in  the  examination 
of  an  external  object  or  in  the  investigation  of  the  most  abstruse  of 
subjects  that  can  be  submitted  to  the  action  of  human  intellect. 

The  experienced  and  observing  teacher  knows  well  that  his  students 
who  excel  in  the  exercises  prescribed  in  the  departments  of  logic  and 
metaphysics  are  those  whose  faculties  have  been  most  thoroughly 
disciplined  in  the  processes  of  analysis,  comparison,  and  classification, 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  4^ 

of  induction  and  deduction,  applied  to  the  study  of  natural  objects, 
under  the  guidance  of  mathematical  and  physical  science.  The 
materials  on  which  the  mind  works  in  each  of  these  great  groups  of 
subjects  are  undoubtedly  wholly  different;  but  its  action  is  virtually 
the  same  in  both — attention  leading  to  discernment,  discernment  to 
fact  or  to  truth. 

The  student  who  is  thus  trained  in  the  true  unity  of  his  intellect 
ual  being,  issues  from  the  preparatory  sphere  of  education  well  pre 
pared  to  meet  the  exigences  of  actual  life,  whether  these  present 
themselves  in  the  form  of  intelligent  and  prompt  activity,  or  in  that 
of  rigid  investigation  and  profound  research. 

NATURAL  CONNECTION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  AND  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

To  enable  his  pupils  to  extend  the  exercise  of  attention  into  that  of 
continued  observation,  is  the  great  aim  of  the  teacher,  who  works  in 
telligently  on  the  material  of  mind,  with  a  view  to  elicit  power  of 
thought.  As  far  as  the  discipline  of  the  perceptive  faculties  extends, 
the  end  of  culture  is  to  create  an  observing  mind ;  from  which,  in  the 
beautifully  perfect  arrangements  of  the  great  Author  of  intelligence, 
spring,  in  succession,  a  reasoning  and  a  reflecting  mind.  The  latter, 
however,  can  never  be  obtained  without  due  obedience  to  the  Creator's 
law  of  succession,  in  the  development  of  intellect.  The  materials  of 
reason  and  reflection  lie,  to  a  great  extent,  though  not  exclusively,  in 
the  field  of  observation ;  and,  a  regard  to  the  law  of  natural  and 
healthy  development,  therefore,  induces  the  teacher  to  look  carefully 
to  the  first  steps  of  his  procedure  in  the  processes  of  cultivation. 
Having  used  his  best  endeavors  to  vivify  and  invigorate  the  power  of 
attention,  by  all  appropriate  means  and  appliances,  he  proceeds  to  the 
use  of  every  genial  method  of  confirming  the  tendency  of  the  mind 
to  maintain  that  faculty  in  habitual  action  ;  to  stamp  on  the  intellect, 
as  a  characteristic  trait,  an  inquisitive  and  appropriating  spirit,  which 
examines  and  searches  into  all  things  within  its  sphere,  aggregates 
their  riches  to  itself,  and  ever  comes  home  laden  with  results  for  the 
exercise  of  powers  and  faculties  yet  greater  than  itself;  and,  to  which 
it  is  ordained  to  minister.  It  is  thus  that  the  mind  becomes  the 
delighted  and  conscious  agent  in  its  own  advancement. 

PROCESSES    BY    WHICH    THE    HABIT  OF   OBSERVATION    IS    SECURF.D. 

The  frequent  solicitation  of  attention,  by  the  presentation  of  attract 
ive  objects,  would,  of  itself,  as  we  see  in  Nature's  unaided  training  of 
the  savage,  provoke  a  tendency  to  observe  and  to  inquire.  But,  the 
action  of  the  intelligent  teacher,  in  aid  of  Nature,  and  in  obedience 
to  her  dictation,  is  founded  on  a  law  of  moral  certainty,  derived  from 
the  study  of  the  laws  of  mental  action.  Understanding  and  relying 


42  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

on  the  susceptibility  of  the  mind  to  the  influence  of  the  objects  by 
which  it  is  surrounded,  and  the  perfect  adaptation  of  these  objects  to 
that  end  ;  and,  aided,  no  le&s  effectually,  by  that  inward  thirst  for 
knowledge,  that  burning  desire  to  observe  and  understand,  which  actu 
ates  the  young  mind  itself,  the  enlightened  teacher  knows  he  has  but 
to  attract  attention  to  the  object  which  lie  wishes  to  employ  as  a  ma 
terial  in  the  fabric  of  knowledge.  Attention  gained,  secures  percep 
tion;  if  the  object  is  properly  selected,  and  skillfully  handled. 

The  volatility  of  attention  in  the  immature  mind,  which,  if  unguarded, 
tends  to  mental  dissipation  and  superficial  observation,  the  teacher 
counteracts  by  genial  measures,  adapted  to  arrest  and  fix  this  subtle 
element  of  mental  power,  and  carry  it  successfully  forward,  from  step 
to  step  in  observation,  till  the  end  in  view  in  investigation  is  attained. 
The  successive  steps  of  the  mind's  progress,  under  the  guidance  of  a 
skillful  instructor,  in  endeavoring  to  arrive  at  the  result  of  true  per 
ception,  exact  observation,  and  complete  knowledge,  are  suggestively 
indicated  in  the  process  of  investigating  the  structure  of  aay  visible 
object,  and  naturally  present  themselves  in  the  following  order:  exam 
ination,  analysis,  inspection;  aided  by  interrogation,  direction,  and 
information,  and  extended  successively  to  the  more  complex  processes 
of  comparison  and  classification. 

Examination,  as  a  Process  in  Intellectual  Training. — In  the 
absence  of  the  prompting  and  directing  power  of  genial  culture,  it  is 
true,  perhaps,  that  most  of  our  race  are  permitted  to  fill  the  measure 
of  their  days  without  one  definite  or  quickening  thought  of  the  objects 
by  which  they  are  surrounded  for  a  life-time.  The  peasant  boy,  who, 
of  all  human  beings,  is  the  most  favorably  situated  for  the  contempla 
tion  and  intelligent  study  of  nature,  seldom  experiences  the  friendly 
aid  of  a  suggestive  question,  that  might  lead  him  to  appreciate  the 
elements  of  intellectual  wealth,  in  which  the  field  of  his  daily  labor 
abounds.  Education  has  given  him  the  ability  to  commute  his  wages, 
to  read,  or  to  sign  a  receipt;  and,  thus  to  meet  the  humble  demands 
of  his  animal  subsistence.  It  may  even  have  afforded  him  some 
formal  instruction  in  grammar  or  geography.  13ut,  it  has  not  even 
hinted  to  him  that,  in  "herb,  tree,  fruit,  flower,  glistering  with  dew," 
there  are  wonders  of  skill,  and  beauty,  and  power,  fitted  to  fill  his 
soul  with  delight,  and  to  exalt  him  to  a  higher  intelligence;  that,  in 
the  bud,  as  it  opens  in  spring,  in  the  expanded  blossom  of  summer,  in 
the  tinted  leaf  of  autumn,  in  the  shell  which  he  picks  up  from  the 
sand  of  the  brook,  in  the  very  pebble  which  he  "  turns  with  his  share, 
and  treads  upon,"  there  are  offered  to  his  mind  whole  volumes  of  the 
richest  knowledge,  which  the  study  of  a  life-time  cannot  exhaust. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  43 

An  eloquent  American  writer,  speaking  of  the  advancement  of  edu 
cation,  says :  "  The  time  may  come  when  the  teacher  will  take  his 
pupil  by  the  hand,  and  lead  him  by  the  running  streams,  and  teach 
him  all  the  principles  of  Science,  as  she  comes  from  her  Maker."  The 
teacher  is  here  rightfully  represented  as  fulfilling,  in  his  humble  sphere 
of  duty,  the  highest  offices  of  philanthropy  and  of  religion.  Such  is 
the  teacher's  noble  and  beneficent  function,  in  favoring  circumstances  ; 
yet,  not  less  when,  yielding  to  the  exigencies  of  life,  he  is  confined 
within  the  walls  of  his  school-room,  but  brings  in  Nature's  apparatus 
from  without,  to  give  life,  and  meaning,  and  efficacy  to  his  instruc 
tions,  and  win  the  young  mind  to  the  earnest  and  devoted  study  of 
the  works  of  the  Creator. 

Intellectual  Effects  Resulting  from  the  Examination  of  Objects. — 
The  zealous  teacher,  working  with  such  light  shed  upon  his  labors, 
knows  that,  in  presenting  a  product  of  Nature  to  the  eye,  he  is  pre 
senting  a  germ  of  thought  to  the  mind,  which,  under  his  skillful  man 
agement,  shall  duly  unfold,  in  leaf,  and  blossom,  and  ultimate  fruit. 
He  knows  that,  in  the  absence  of  a  guiding  suggestion,  his  young 
pupil  may  have  looked  a  thousand  times  on  that  leaf,  as  a  thing 
which  did  not  concern  him;  on  the  shell,  as  only  something  queer; 
on  the  pebble,  as  an  unintelligible  intruder,  perhaps,  on  his  personal 
comfort ;  on  the  flower,  as  something  pretty,  that  his  sisters  are  fond 
of;  on  the  fruit,  as  a  sufficiently  satisfactory  morsel  for  his  palate  ;  and, 
that  thus,  in  the  great  universal  hall  of  learning,  stored  with  library 
and  apparatus,  the  orphaned  mind  may  have  sauntered  away  the  pre 
cious  hours  of  early  life,  without  having  been  induced  to  study  a  single 
lesson,  or  engage  in  a  single  exercise.  All  this  the  teacher  is  well 
aware  of;  but,  he  knows,  too,  the  hidden  life  and  power  that  lie 
wrapped  up  in  the  little  object  with  which,  as  a  specimen  from 
Nature's  cabinet,  he  proceeds  to  magnetize  the  sentient  intellects  before 
him.  He  knows  that,  as  surely  as  these  susceptible  beings  are  brought 
near  enough  to  come  within  the  range  of  action,  they  fall  under  the 
spell  of  its  power,  are  charmed  to  rapt  attention,  and  carried  on,  in 
wondering  and  delighted  observation,  till  they  are  finally  arrested 
by  the  grateful  surprise  of  conscious  knowledge,  and  advanced 
intelligence. 

Is  it  a  plant  which  forms  the  subject  of  the  lesson  he  would  give  ? 
He  has  but,  by  a  striking  question,  to  break  the  crust  of  habituation, 
which  has  blunted  the  perception  of  his  pupils,  and  hinders  their 
mental  vision.  He  has  but  to  ask  them  to  describe  its  parts,  in  detail, 
as  he  holds  it  up  before  them,  and  he  has  gained  the  grand  prelimi 
nary  condition  of  effective  perception, — attentive  examination.  As 


44  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES 

the  description  extends  its  ramifications,  the  weed,  which  had  been  a 
thousand  times  trodden  under  foot,  without  a  thought  of  its  nature  or 
construction,  becomes  an  eloquent  expositor  of  Creative  mechanism 
and  life;  its  parts  become  organs  and  channels  of  vitality, — a  won 
drous  laboratory  of  chemical  elements  and  action ;  the  individual 
object  becomes  a  member  of  a  family,  each  of  whom  has  his  life  and 
his  history,  his  birth,  growth,  maturity,  and  decay ;  leaving,  as  the 
moral  of  his  story,  the  parting  suggestive  question,  riveted  in  the 
wondering  mind,  "Am  I  not  wonderfully  made?" 

One  such  result, — and  the  more  common  the  object  which  secures 
it  the  better, — one  such  result  is  sufficient  to  ensure  a  repetition  of 
itself,  in  a  thousand  other  instances.  The  ice  of  indifference  is  broken  ; 
and  the  observer  may  now  see  clearly,  through  the  transparant  water, 
the  many-formed  beautiful  pebbles  on  the  sandy  bed  of  the  stream. 
The  time  and  trouble  of  examination,  it  is  now  found,  are  amply 
repaid  in  the  conscious  pleasure  of  intelligent  observation ;  and,  they 
are  no  longer  begrudged.  The  mind  has  now  become  desirous  to 
observe,  examine,  and  explore.  It  has  already  set  out  on  a  career 
which,  were  all  educators  intelligent  agents,  would  be  ceaseless  to  all 
to  whose  advancement  it  is  their  part  to  minister. 

Example  of  a  Successful  Teacher. — A  most  striking  exemplification, 
in  this  respect,  of  successful  instruction,  was  often  exhibited  in  the 
devoted  labors  of  the  late  Josiah  Ilolbrook,  who,  although  the  very 
extent  of  some  of  his  plans  for  the  advancement  of  popular  education 
may  have  rendered  their  execution  difficult  for  the  endeavors  of  an 
individual,  yet  was  uniformly  successful  in  his  attempts  to  introduce 
the  study  of  natural  objects,  as  a  part  of  early  education  in  all  schools. 
Trusting  to  the  power  of  attraction  and  development  latent  within  a 
stone,  picked  up  by  the  wayside,  he  would  enter  a  school,  with  no 
other  apparatus  of  instruction  provided ;  and,  holding  up  the  familiar 
object,  would  succeed,  by  means  of  a  few  simple  but  skillfully-put 
questions,  in  creating  an  earnest  desire  in  his  young  audience  to  be 
permitted  to  look  more  closely  at  the  object.  He  would  then  hand  it 
to  them,  and  have  it  passed  from  one  to  anotlx-r. 

Having  thus  secured  the  preliminary  advantage  of  earnest  attention, 
his  next  step  would  be,  by  a  few  more  brief  questions,  to  lead  his  little 
class  to  a  close  and  careful  examination  of  the  specimen  submitted  to 
their  notice ;  and,  to  their  surprise  and  delight,  to  enable  them  to  see 
that  the  bit  of  granite  in  their  hands, — although  but  one  stone  to  the 
eye,  at  first  sight, — actually  contained  portions  of  three  different  kinds 
of  rock.  II<-  would  then  give  his  pupils  an  unpretending  but  tli»r- 
oughly  effective  exercise  in  analysis,  by  inducing  them  to  point  out 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 


45 


distinctly  each  component  element,  apart,  and  to  describe,  at  tho 
moment  of  doing  so,  its  points  of  difference  from  the  others,  by  which 
the  eye  might  recognize  and  the  mind  distinguish  it. 

Another  stage,  in  the  well-planned  lessons  of  this  true  teacher, 
would  lead  to  a  yet  closer  inspection  of  the  component  elements  in  the 
object  of  observation,  by  the  presentation  of  separate  specimens  of 
each,  in  comparison  with  the  smaller  portions  of  them  perceptible  in 
the  stone.  The  transparency  of  the  mica,  its  laminated  form,  its 
beauty  to  the  eye,  would  all  come  up  in  turn,  for  due  notice  and 
remark ;  nor  would  its  peculiar  adaptation  to  several  of  the  uses  and 
conveniences  of  life  be  overlooked.  The  quartz  element,  with  its  beau 
tiful  crystalline  aspect  and  forms,  its  value  as  a  gem,  its  wide  diffusion 
in  the  granular  condition,  its  presence  and  its  effects  in  the  composi 
tion  of  rocks  and  soils, — all  briefly  exemplified  and  enumerated, — 
would  form  a  copious  subject  of  instruction  and  delight.  The  feld 
spar ,  too,  with  its  creamy  tint  and  block-like  configuration,  and  its 
valuable  uses  in  the  hands  of  the  potter  and  the  dentist,  would  come 
in  for  its  share  of  delighted  attention  and  studious  observation. 

Here  was  the  true  office  of  instruction  faithfully  exemplified.  Here 
was  genuine  mental  activity,  on  the  part  of  the  pupil ;  and,  here  were 
its  natural  effects, — vigorous,  healthy  expansion  and  development, 
together  with  the  pure,  natural,  and  salutary  pleasure  of  intellectual 
exercise, — more  dear  to  the  child  than  even  his  favorite  play.  Here, 
too,  were  effectually  secured  the  moral  influences  of  culture,  docility, 
order,  regularity,  voluntary  attention  and  application,  gratitude  to  the 
instructor  for  personal  favor  and  benefit  consciously  received,  an  earn 
est  desire  implanted  for  the  true  and  enduring  pleasures  which  spring 
from  knowledge,  and  the  first  steps  taken  in  the  life-long  pursuit  of 
science.  The  teacher,  having  put  himself  into  a  true  living  relation 
to  the  mental  constitution  of  his  pupils,  could,  without  delaying  for 
formal  calls  to  order  or  attention,  proceed,  at  once,  to  the  benign  office 
of  his  vocation,  as  the  guide  of  the  young  mind.  By  a  wise  prevent 
ive  method, — not  by  authority,  rule,  or  penalty, — he  secured  the 
devoted  attention  and  good  order  of  his  pupils,  and,  not  less,  their 
own  happiness,  their  sympathy  with  him,  at  the  moment,  and  their 
habitual  reverence  for  him,  as  the  living  source  of  knowledge. 

After  one  lesson,  such  as  has  been  described,  the  substantial  and 
durable  effect  resulting  from  it  was  usually  perceptible  in  the  fact  that, 
on  the  dismission  of  the  school,  the  juvenile  members  of  Mr.  Hoi- 
brook's  audience  would  be  found  resorting  to  whatever  place  they 
thought  likely  to  furnish  them  with  specimens  such  as  he  had  exhib 
ited  in  his  lesson.  This  was  almost  universally  the  case  when  the 


46  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

lesson  happened  to  be  given  in  a  rural  region,  where  objects  of  the 
kind  in  question  were  easily  obtained.  But,  not  less  zeal  for  collect 
ing  specimens  for  juvenile  cabinets,  would  sometimes  be  manifested  in 
the  more  confined  sphere  of  city  life,  an  instance  of  which  it  would 
be  difficult  for  the  writer  to  forget. 

An  eager  group  of  little  collectors  were  scrambling  for  specimens 
around  the  temporary  shed  of  the  stone-masons  occupied  in  the  erec 
tion  of  a  public  building.  They  were  busily  replenishing  their  pock 
ets  with  such  pieces  as  struck  their  fancy,  and  stopping  now  and  then 
to  compare  specimens,  or  each  to  examine  his  own  more  closely. 
Drawing  near  to  the  juvenile  company  of  geologists,  as  their  heads 
were  clubbed  together  in  earnest  inspection  of  a  specimen,  the  observer 
heard  one  exclaim,  "Well,  I  do  not  think  it  is  the  right  kind.  For, 
you  know,  Mr.  Holbrook  said  the  way  to  spell  granite  was  not 
g-r-a-n-i-t-e,  but  *  mica,  quartz,  and  feldspar.'  Now,  there  is  not  a  bit 
of  mica  in  any  of  these  stones."  The  observer  happened  to  know  of 
Mr.  Ilolbrook's  visits  to  the  school  to  which  the  boys  belonged ;  and, 
as  he  saw  that  the  little  students  had  just  found  their  way  to  the 
exact  spot  in  investigation  where  Mr.  II.  would  be  glad  to  meet  them, 
so  as,  by  means  of  a  little  closer  analysis,  to  enable  them  to  detect  the 
difference  between  granite  and  "  sienite,"  he  relieved  their  anxiety  by 
telling  them  that  they  had  better  not  throw  away  the  pieces ^.they  had 
picked  up,  but  carry  them  to  the  school-room,  next  morning,  and  ask 
Mr.  Holbrook  to  tell  them  why  there  was  no  mica  in  their  specimens, 
and  what  those  black  specks  were.  One  of  the  little  explorers  returned 
to  his  home,  on  the  following  day,  to  tell,  with  a  face  all  radiant  with 
intelligence,  about  the  quarries  of  Syene,  in  Egypt,  the  quarries  of 
Quincy,  and  those  of  the  "  Granite  "  State,  and  even  to  go  into  some 
details,  in  which  neither  of  his  parents  was  sufficiently  versed  in 
science  to  follow  him  satisfactorily. 

Analysis,  in  its  Connection  with  the  Discipline  of  the  Perceptive 
faculties, — An  eminent  writer  has  truly  said  that  a  dwarf,  behind  his 
steam-engine,  may  remove  mountains.  Analysis  is  the  correspondent 
power  of  the  intellect.  It  is  the  grand  instrument  in  all  the  opera 
tions  of  the  perceptive  faculties.  It  is  observation  working  scientifi 
cally  ;  and,  of  all  the  implements  of  science,  it  is  the  keenest  in  its 
edge,  the  truest  in  its  action,  and  the  surest  in  the  results  which  it 
attains.  It  is  the  key  to  knowledge,  in  all  departments  of  intelligence ; 
and,  perfection  in  its  processes  is  the  crown  of  glory  on  the  head  of 
him  who  stands  foremost  in  the  field  of  scientific  research.  Education, 
a*  the  power  which  trains  and  forms  the  mental  habits,  has  no  higher 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  47 

boon  which  it  can  confer,  as  the  result  of  years  of  practice  and 
discipline. 

Valuable,  however,  as  this  process  is,  education,  in  the  history  of 
the  past,  could  lay  but  slight  claims  to  the  merit  of  having  formed  the 
mental  habits  which  it  implies;  since  the  means  and  opportunities  of 
analytic  intellection  were  withheld  or  neglected,  to  a  very  great  extent, 
in  consequence  of  the  omission  to  provide  the  requisite  objects  and 
exercises  for  the  discipline  of  the  perceptive  faculties.  Education, 
while  it  consisted  chiefly  in  arbitrary  forms  of  exercise  on  abstract 
principles,  connected  with  formulas  in  language  and  in  number,  drawn 
from  the  sciences  of  grammar  and  arithmetic,  precluded  the  exercise 
of  perception,  by  causing  the  learner  to  assume,  instead  of  investiga 
ting,  the  primary  facts  of  language  and  of  number.  At  the  present 
day,  we  obey  the  law  of  inductive  procedure,  and  substitute  personal 
observation  and  distinct  perception  for  wide  assumption  and  broad 
assertion.  This  is  true  of,  at  least,  the  modes  and  methods  of  all  who 
profess  to  tea<?h  philosophically,  as  not  mere  instructors,  but  educators 
of  the  mind.  Still,  there  remains  much  to  be  done  with  reference  to 
the  early  direction  and  training  of  the  intellectual  faculties,  so  as  to 
ensure  the  selection  and  presentation  of  the  proper  materials  on  which 
the  intellect  should  be  exercised  in  the  first  stages  of  its  course  of 
discipline. 

Analysis,  as  a  process  of  observant  mind,  implies  the  presence  of 
objects  which,  by  its  solvent  power,  it  is  to  reduce  to  component  ele 
ments  ;  and,  as  the  real  object,  the  fact,  the  actual  relation,  precede, 
in  the  order  of  nature  and  development,  the  ideal  image,  the  intellec 
tual  abstraction,  the  logical  deduction,  early  education  in  its  primary 
operations,  should  conform  to  this  law  of  order  and  of  progress,  and, 
in  prescribing  its  first  forms  of  exercise  and  discipline,  should  obviously 
draw  its  materials  from  the  external  universe  of  palpable  realities,  and 
not  from  the  internal  world  of  pure  thought,  in  which  the  young 
mind  possesses  so  little  conscious  power.  Nor  is  it  well  for  the  mind 
that  the  habit  of  analytical  observation  and  study,  so  indispensable  to 
its  successful  action,  in  all  forms  of  acquisitive  exercise,  should  be  de 
ferred  to  the  later  stages  of  intellectual  culture.  Facility  in  analysis, 
acquired  by  practice  on  the  accessible  forms  and  relations  of  external 
objects,  is  easily  transferred,  by  analogy,  to  the  arithmetical  exercise 
of  resolving  complicated  numbers  into  their  simpler  constituent 
groups  ;  or,  the  grammatical  one  of  reducing  a  perplexing  period  to 
its  primary  elements,  and  these,  in  turn,  to  their  component  parts. 

Progress  in  mathematical  science  and  linguistic  study,  would  be 
much  surer  and  ::,ure  rapid,  if,  instead  of  being  demanded  of  the 


48  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

earlier  stages  of  mental  progress,  it  were  postponed  to  a  period  subse- 
qu^nt  to  that  of  analytical  exercise,  practised,  for  years,  on  objects 
perceptible  to  the  senses. 

Analysis,  as  the  systematic  process  of  examination,  is  one  and  the 
same  thing,  in  whatever  direction  it  is  applied  ;  its  power  as  an  instru 
ment  of  discipline,  is  as  fully  felt  in  investigating  the  structure  of  a 
plant  as  that  of  a  sentence ;  and,  the  intelligent  teacher,  while  super 
intending  such  a  process,  will  feel  the  same  weight  of  obligation  rest 
ing  on  him  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  He  will,  accordingly,  be 
watchful  over  the  manner  in  which  the  process  is  conducted,  that  it  be 
not  superficial,  or  hasty,  or  partial,  but  thorough-going,  deliberate,  and 
exhaustive,  as  far  as  it  ought  to  extend  ;  and.  that  it  be  furnished  with 
faithful  expression,  or  regord,  at  every  step  of  its  progress.  It  is  thus 
only  that  the  indispensable  broad  line  of  distinction  can  be  drawn, 
which  gives  certainty  to  knowledge,  by  separating  what  has  been 
examined  from  what  has  not  been,  and  measures  what  is  known  by 
what  has  been  done.  • 

Inspection,  as  a  Disciplinary  Process  for  the  Perceptive  Faculties. 
— When  analysis  has  faithfully  performed  its  peculiar  task,  and 
singled  out  for  observation  the  very  last  component  element  in  the 
object  of  investigation,  there  remains  yet,  to  the  attentive  teacher, 
another  stage  of  perceptive  progress  to  be  accomplished  by  his  pupil, 
under  the  suggestive  direction  of  a  mind  which  has  already  traveled 
the  path  of  knowledge.  The  searching  inspection  of  the  individual 
elements  which  compose  a  complex  whole, — an  inspection  so  minute, 
that  each  element  may  be  described  and  defined  in  its  distinctive  unity 
of  constitution  and  character,  and,  in  the  clearly  traced  relation  which 
it  bears  to  the  whole,  as  well  as  in  each  of  its  own  chief  characteris 
tics,  or  prominent  features, — becomes,  perhaps,  in  turn,  an  element  in 
some  wide-sweeping  induction,  for  purposes  of  comparison  and 
classification. 

Elementary  botany, — that  which  a  young  child  is  perfectly  compe 
tent  to  study,  and  which  requires  but  the  seeing  eye  and  the  attentive 
mind,  to  examine  and  describe  the  different  parts  of  a  plant,  or  c\«  n 
a  root,  a  stem,  a  bud,  or  a  leaf, — abounds  in  the  best  of  materials  for 
exercise  in  close  and  minute  examination  of  details.  To  rentier  this 
process  a  tendency  and  a  habit  of  his  pupil's  mind,  is  here  the  office 
of  the  educator.  Yet,  this  is  but  one  of  the  numerous  resources  of 
nature  on  which  he  may  draw  for  the  cultivation  of  the  highest  traits 
of  intellectual  skill  and  expertness,  as  attributes  of  the  young  minds, 
which  it  is  his  business  to  train  to  the  highest  pitch  of  mental  power 
to  which  he  can  raise  them.  • 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  49 

In  the  examination  of  a  plant,  for  example,  he  does  not  limit  the 
attention  of  his  pupils  to  the  mere  analysis  of  the  whole  into  its  parts. 
Every  part,  separately,  he  makes  an  object  of  distinct  inspection  and 
investigation,  in  every  light  in  which  observation  or  science  enables 
him  to  hold  it  up.  No  feature  of  individual  character  is  suffered  to 
escape  notice, — no  detail,  how  minute  soever  it  may  be,  in  which  it 
differs  from,  or  resembles,  a  correspondent  point  of  form  or  function, 
in  another  specimen  of  kindred  character. 

In  lessons  on  animal  life, — to  use  another  example, — the  juvenile 
student,  under  the  charge  of  the  watchful  teacher,  is  directed  to  observe 
the  fact,  which  minute  inspection  discloses,  that,  in  one  instance,  where 
he  would  naturally,  at  first  glance,  think  that  he  has  seen  two  feet ; 
he  will  actually  discover,  on  closer  inspection,  two  hands;  that,  in 
observing  the  figure  of  the  chimpanzee,  he  has  been  contemplating 
neither  biped  nor  quadruped,  but  a  quadrumanous  (four-handed)  ani 
mal  ;  and,  that  this  distinction  is  founded  chiefly  on  the  careful  exam 
ination  of  the  member  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  call  a  toe, 
but  which  is,  in  reality,  a  thumb,  designed  to  aid  in  the  actions  of  grasp 
ing  and  climbing,  which  are  so  important  to  the  animal's  mode  of  life. 
The  clope  inspection  of  one  member  thus  becomes,  for  the  time,  the 
turning  point  on  which  the  young  student  depends  for  the  recognition 
of  a  grand  distinction  in  nature,  and  for  the  true  understanding  and 
proper  appreciation  of  the  scientific  term  in  which  this  distinction  is 
recorded. 

Interrogation,  as  an  Instrument  of  Intellectual  Discipline. — In  the 
language  of  general  writers  on  subjects  connected  with  the  experi 
mental  and  tentative  processes  of  science,  man  is  said  to  interrogate 
nature.  The  figure  is  a  most  suggestive  one  to  the  teacher,  with 
reference  to  his  business  and  duties.  It  presents  man  in  his  appropri 
ate  attitude  of  an  attentive  and  docile  child  of  Nature,  inquiring  trust 
fully  of  her  concerning  the  causes  which  lie  too  deep  for  mere  intui 
tion,  but  which  her  maternal  spirit  is  ever  ready  to  reveal  to  earnest 
desire  and  faithful  endeavor.  The  human  parent  and  the  teacher 
stand,  to  the  young  mind,  in  the  same  oracular  relation,  as  expound 
ers  and  interpreters  of  the  great  volume  of  creation.  But,  how  sel 
dom  is  the  inquiring  spirit  of  childhood  encouraged  to  avail  itself  of 
its  lawful  provision  for  the  furnishing  of  that  knowledge  which  it  con 
sciously  craves,  as  the  sustenance  of  its  life !  How  seldom  does  the 
teacher  feel  the  full  force  of  the  obligation  which  the  inquisitive  habits 
of  childhood  lay  upon  him,  to  encourage  the  spirit  of  curiosity  which 
prompts  the  many  questions  of  the  child !  How  seldom  does  he  feel 
that  his  business  is  to  incite,  and  stimulate,  and  prompt,  and  enliven, 

ID 


50  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

in  every  way  possible  to  him,  this  primary  instinct,  which  impels  tho 
mind  toward  the  goal  of  knowledge!  IIow  seldom  does  he  enter  into 
the  spirit  of  the  wise  suggestion  of  the  poet;  and,  even  when  in  the 
very  act  of  feeding  the  intellectual  appetite,  so  contrive  as  "  by  giving" 
to  "  make  it  ask  !" 

Book  Questions. — The  teacher  is  not  usually  so  remiss  in  regard  to 
the  importance  of  interrogation,  as  a  stimulus  to  intelligence,  so  far  as 
concerns  his  own  resort  to  that  process.  Far  from  it !  He  knows  its 
value,  as  a  pointer  or  guide-post,  to  definite  results.  Nor  are  there 
wanting  instructors  so  reliant  on  interrogatory  forms,  and  so  distrust 
ful  of  their  own  power  to  devise  them,  that  they  conduct  the  whole 
business  of  a  lesson,  following  literally  the  numerous  questions  printed 
on  the  page  of  the  text-book.  Such  questions,  it  is  true,  are  not  to 
be  despised  and  rejected  in  the  wholesale  style  in  which  they  are 
sometimes  disposed  of  by  the  young  and  sanguine  teacher,  who  has 
just  begun  to  see  their  inadequacy  to  the  purposes  and  wants  of  per 
sonal  instruction.  The  printed  question,  even  when  extended  to 
minutiae,  may  be  rendered  very  serviceable  to  the  formation  of  habits 
of  faithful  application  and  close  study,  as  well  as  accurate  recapitula 
tion  ;  if  the  young  student  is  directed  to  make  use  of  it  as  a  test,  in 
regard  to  the  exactness  of  his  preparation  for  a  personal  examination 
on  the  subject  of  his  lesson ;  if  he  is  duly  trained  not  to  regard  the 
printed  question  as  merely  the  teacher's  part  in  a  verbatim  mechani 
cal  dialogue  between  the  master  and  himself,  in  which  the  last  word 
in  the  sentence  of  the  one  speaker  forms  the  literal  "cue"  to  the  first 
word  in  that  of  the  other,  but,  as  a  criterion  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
subjects,  as  a  friendly  intimation  that,  if  he  can  not  furnish  an  answer 
to  the  question  before  him,  he  is  so  far  deficient  in  his  preparation  to 
give  intelligently  an  account  of  the  part  of  the  subject  to  which  the 
question  refers. 

Children's  Questions. — But,  it  would  be  more  to  the  purpose  of 
the  young  teacher's  business,  if, — instead  of  the  printed  aid  offered  to 
him  in  what  should  be  his  own  part  of  a  lesson,  and  which,  if  he 
respects  his  own  mind,  he  will  draw  only  from  his  own  resources, 
according  to  the  needs  of  the  pupil, — the  page  of  the  text-book 
abounded,  -rather,  in  the  questions  which  children  would  like  to  ask, 
for  their  personal  information.  The  judicious  instructor  will  always 
make  free  use  of  interrogation,  as  a  means  of  ascertaining  or  aiding 
the  degree  of  his  pupil's  intelligence.  But,  he  will  not  overlook  the 
fact  that  this  process,  like  that  of  the  printer,  in  taking  his  proof 
impression,  ia  to  certify  a  result, — not  to  create  it.  The  questions 
which  the  child  is  permitted  or  encouraged  to  put  to  his  teacher,  are, 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

often,  the  sole  means  by  which  the  former  is  enabled  to  "  set  up " 
accurately  in  his  mind  the  facts  of  the  lesson  required.  The  number 
and  the  closeness  of  these  questions  become,  further,  the  expression 
and  evidence  of  the  interest  which  the  pupil  takes  in  the  lesson.  To 
the  teacher  who  possesses  the  patient  and  sympathizing  spirit  of  his 
office,  these  questionings  come  gratefully  to  his  ear,  even  when  they 
betray  the  "  blank  misgivings  of  a  creature  wandering  in  worlds  not 
realized."  It  is  then  that  he  is  most  impressively  reminded  of  the 
true  nature  of  his  work,  as  an  intellectual  guide  and  conductor.  Ho 
is  ever  careful,  therefore,  to  provoke,  rather  than  repress,  interrogation  ; 
and,  even  so  to  frame  his  own  questions  that  they  shall  serve  to  call 
forth  fresh  inquiries  from  his  pupils. 

The  appropriate  discipline  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  depending, 
as  it  does,  on  the  frequent  presentation  of  objects  of  sense,  with  a 
view  to  win  attention,  and  secure  exact  observation,  implies  that  the 
teacher  resorts,  on  all  occasions,  to  close  questioning,  as  the  suggestive 
process  by  which  the  pupil  is  induced  to  use  his  own  perceptive  power, 
to  rely  on  the  fidelity  of  his  own  observation,  and  thus  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  which  is  substantial  and  thorough -going.  But,  it  is  not 
less  true  that,  in  proportion  to  the  pupil's  interest  in  the  efforts  which 
he  makes,  and  the  progressive  steps  which  he  takes  in  every  process, 
his  very  attainments  will  be  suggesting  and  prompting  further  inqui 
ries,  for  his  future  guidance.  The  spirit  and  intelligence,  as  well  as 
the  pleasure,  therefore,  with  which  he  proceeds  in  his  work,  will 
depend,  to  a  great  extent,  on  the  consciousness  that  he  is  not  working 
in  the  dark. 

Mode  of  Answering  Questions. — The  answer  to  the  pupil's  questions, 
however,  the  true  teacher  is  well  aware,  is  not  always  to  come  from 
the  lips  of  the  instructor.  It  is  often  left  intentionally  to  be  the  fruit 
of  the  learner's  further  efforts  and  closer  examination.  To  withhold 
an  answer  to  the  most  eager  question,  is  sometimes  a  truer  kindness 
than  to  give  it.  The  ripe  and  perfect  fruit  of  knowledge  must  some 
times,  like  that  of  the  tree,  be  patiently  waited  for,  and  wrought  for. 

Leading  Questions. — The  wise  teacher,  however,  will  know  as  well 
when  to  put  the  skillful  leading  question,  which  does  not  supersede, 
but  rather  calls  forth  the  activity  of  the  pupil's  mind.  The  leading 
question,  though  unlawful  at  the  bar,  is,  under  the  management  of 
the  prudent  teacher,  the  very  turning  point,  in  some  cases,  which 
decides  whether  he  is  "  apt  to  teach,"  as  an  intelligent  guide  to  th« 
results  of  actual  knowledge  and  true  discipline. 

Direction  and  Information,  as  Didactic  Processes  Connected  with 
the  Exercise  and  Discipline  of  the  Perceptive  Faculties. — The  answers 


52  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

given  by  a  judicious  teacher  to  the  questions  of  his  pupils  will  often 
consist  in  references  to  the  sources  of  information,  rather  than  in 
direct  replies.  In  the  study  of  natural  objects,  it  is  peculiarly  import 
ant  that  the  pupil  should  see,  and  think,  and  judge,  and  discover,  for 
himself.  To  such  training  in  self-reliance  and  self-help,  the  exercise 
of  the  perceptive  faculties  on  the  details  of  form  in  animal,  plant,  and 
mineral,  is  preeminently  adapted.  The  embarrassing  complexity  and 
intricacy,  and  the  baffling  abstruseness,  and  the  perplexing  obscurity, 
which  sometimes  characterize  other  subjects  of  investigation,  and 
which  call  so  loudly  for  the  teacher's  frequent  aid  to  his  pupil,  do  not 
exist  here.  The  simplicity  and  the  beauty  of  nature's  products,  invite 
and  attract  attention  ;  and,  every  successive  stage  of  examination 
leads  unconsciously  to  another.  The  teacher  has  but  to  indicate  and 
to  prompt,  and  thus  leave  the  mind  the  rich  satisfaction  of  achieving 
its  own  progress.  He  is  not  tempted  to  fall  into  the  besetting  sin  of 
instruction, — that  of  anticipating,  and  assuming,  and  asserting,  and  so 
quenching  the  mind's  healthful  thirst  by  the  lukewarm  distillations  of 
precept  and  rule,  instead  of  leaving  it  to  refresh  itself  by  drinking  at 
the  cool,  vivifying  fountain-head  of  original  observation. 

An  eminent  naturalist  once  gave  a  very  impressive  lesson  in  the  art 
of  teaching  to  one  who  is  himself,  professionally,  an  instructor.  The 
question  proposed  to  the  savant  was,  "How  may  we  distinguish 
snakes  which  are  venomous  from  those  which  are  not  ? "  "  Come  into 
my  study,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  I  will  place  before  you  some  of 
each  kind ;  and,  then,  by  examining,  you  can  see  for  yourself."  It  is 
thus  the  true  teacher  proceeds  with  his  pupils:  it  is  thus  he  gives 
certainty  to  knowledge,  and  clearness  and  vigor  to  the  mental  faculties. 

As  a  guide  and  director  of  the  mind,  the  intelligent  instructor 
points  his  pupils  to  the  sources  from  which  he  himself  obtained  inform 
ation,  and  thus  admits  them  to  the  honor  of  partnership  with  him  in 
investigation  and  accumulation.  Teacher  and  student  thus  become 
allied  by  friendly  participation  in  the  same  pursuits;  and,  a  high, 
though  unostentatious,  moral  effect  is  blended  with  the  cultivation  and 
enjoyment  of  intellect 

The  teacher,  however,  who  thus  wisely  throws  his  pupils,  as  far  as 
practicable  on  their  own  resources,  does  not  thereby  preclude  the 
ample  furnishing  of  all  needed  information,  which  intelligent  apprecia 
tion  and  successful  application  may  require.  He  will,  on  the  contrary, 
tike  pleasure  in  disclosing  facts,  in  tracing  analogies,  and  furnishing 
explanations,  when  these  serve  to  give  additional  value  and  attraction 
to  the  tlu'me  of  his  instructions.  lie  will  thus  contrive,  at  once,  to 
satisfy  and  to  stimulate  the  mind's  natural  craving  for  knowledge,  and 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  53 

mate  every  step  of  progress  the  foothold  and  the  impulse  to  yet 
another.  He  will  still  be  careful,  however,  even  when  imparting  direct 
information,  to  confine  it  within  those  limits  which  shall  leave  a  wide 
and  inviting  field  for  the  pupil's  own  investigations,  and  secure  his 
personal  interest  in  future  explorations,  which  may  subserve  the  im 
portant  purposes  of  acquisition,  as  connected  with  attainments  in  the 
various  departments  of  education,  or  with  those  advances  in  science 
which  may  form  a  large  part  of  his  own  conscious  happiness,  and  con 
tribute,  ultimately,  to  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge. 

Comparison,  as  a  Disciplinary  Exercise  of  the  Perceptive  Facul 
ties. — The  unity  of  the  intellect,  as  a  principle  in  the  human 
constitution,  forbids  any  attempt  at  literal  or  exhaustive  analysis, 
in  the  study  of  its  diversified  character  and  modes  of  action.  In  edu 
cational  relations,  more  particularly,  all  attempts  at  the  analytic  observ 
ation  of  mental  phenomena,  for  purposes  of  intelligent  and  healthful 
culture,  must  ever  be  regarded  as  merely  analogical  presentations  and 
figurative  expositions.  The  successive  stages  of  mental  development 
and  discipline,  in  like  manner,  are  incapable  of  being  cut  apart  and 
separated  by  any  dividing  line  of  demarcation.  On  the  contrary,  they 
naturally  blend  into  one  another,  with  a  closeness  of  connection,  and 
a  delicacy  of  shading,  which  does  not  admit  of  precise  distinctions,  or 
marked  discriminations. 

When  we  group,  therefore,  the  various  modes  in  which  intellect 
iftanifests  itself  in  action,  and  designate  one  of  these  groups  by  the 
term  "  perceptive,"  and  another  by  the  term  "  reflective,"  we  recognize 
a  distinction,  with  regard  to  which,  even  a  superficial  observer  of  the 
mind's  activity,  would  not  venture  to  say  that  it  is  not  founded  on  an 
actual  difference.  Still,  we  should  find  it  extremely  difficult  to  lay 
down  a  precise  line  of  demarcation,  and  say  with  certainty,  in  every 
instance,  here  terminates  the  perceptive,  and  here  commences  the  re 
flective  action  of  intellect.  Thus,  in  assigning  its  place  to  the  master 
faculty  of  intelligence,  we  should  feel  no  hesitation  in  ranking  reason 
among  the  reflective  faculties.  But,  when  this  noble  power  descends, 
as  has  been  so  happily  expressed,  to  the  humble  office  of  "judo-ing 
according  to  sense,"  it  necessarily  partakes  of  the  character  of  the 
class  of  faculties  with  which  it  mingles  in  action.  It  constitutes,  thus, 
an  element  and  a  condition  in  perception  itself;  as  is  verified  by  the 
consequences  of  its  absence,  in  the  intellectual  action  of  the  insane 
person,  who  distinctly  enough  perceives  the  form  of  his  friend,  but,  in 
the  inexplicable  aberration  of  reason,  salutes  him  as  a  foreign  ambas 
sador,  come  to  do  him  the  honor  of  a  visit,  in  consideration  of  his  world- 
renowned  skill  in  disentangling  complicated  questions  in  state  policy. 


54  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Comparison  combines,  usually,  an  act  of  volition  with  the  process 
of  observation,  directed  to  two  or  more  objects,  for  the  purpose  of 
recognizing  their  unity  or  diversity  of  character ;  and,  hence,  is  prop 
erly  regarded  as  but  the  preliminary  or  introductory  step  to  the  act 
of  judgment,  which  pronounces  the  case  one  of  analogy  or  anomaly. 
It  is  not  unusual,  therefore,  to  class  comparison  as  purely  an  act  of 
judgment,  or  decisive  reason  ;  and,  by  its  office,  a  reflective  faculty. 
As  a  process  of  intellection,  however,  it  obviously  commences  with  the 
perceptive  act  of  attentive  observation ;  and,  as  a  disciplinary  and 
developing  operation  in  mental  culture,  it  falls  under  the  special  care 
of  the  educator,  as  an  exercise  in  the  early  training  and  forming  of 
intellectual  habit. 

Proper  Rank  of  Comparison,  as  an  Intellectual  Process. — Regarded 
in  connection  with  the  study  of  natural  objects,  the  act  of  comparison, 
is  an  exercise  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  which,  in  the  order  of  intel 
ligence,  is  the  immediate  sequel  to  the  processes  of  examination, 
analysis,  and  inspection.  These,  indeed,  are  but  the  legitimate  pre 
paratory  stages  for  its  wider  mode  of  action,  and  higher  offices  in  the 
sphere  of  intelligence.  Yet,  in  its  turn,  it  is  but  the  humble  minis 
tration  of  intellect  to  the  yet  higher  offices  of  classification,  under  the 
guidance  of  the  master  function  of  induction,  which  presides  over  all 
the  varied  forms  of  intellectual  activity,  connected  with  the  observa 
tion  and  study  of  nature. 

Intellectual  Effects  of  the  Discipline  Resulting  from  the  Exercise 
of  Comparison. — Comparison,  as  a  process  of  intelligence,  commenced 
under  the  watchful  eye  of  the  teacher,  on  the  objects  of  perception, — 
the  only  sure  and  firm  ground  of  early  mental  development, — gives  a 
certainty  and  a  skill  to  the  perceptive  action  of  the  mind,  which  tell, 
with  sure  effect,  on  all  analogous  operations  of  a  more  purely  intellec 
tual  or  even  an  abstract  character,  in  later  stages  of  education.  The 
influence  of  the  habit  of  careful  and  exact  comparison,  extends,  with 
full  effect,  to  the  highest  efforts  of  mature  mind,  in  the  most  compli 
cated  and  intricate  relations  of  thought,  in  mathematics,  in  logic,  and 
in  language.  Comparison,  as  the  first  step  in  the  higher  progress  of 
the  mind,  when  making  its  transition  from  the  study  of  single  objects 
to  that  of  numbers,  and  grouping  them,  by  their  analogies,  in  classes, 
brings  the  intellect  under  the  dominion  of  order,  introduces  it  to  the 
discipline  of  method,  and  ultimately  rewards  it  by  the  recognition  of 
law.  Principle  and  rule  then  take  charge  of  the  intelligent  mind; 
and,  as  4l  strong  siding  champions,"  beat  down  every  barrier  to  its 
progress  toward  consummate  knowledge. 

Natural  Objects  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  Comparison, 
as  a  Disciplinary  Exercise. — As  means  of  discipline  for  the  perceptive 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES.  55 

faculties,  in  various  modes  of  comparison,  the  materials  for  practice, 
furnished  in  the  different  departments  of  nature,  are  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  great  ends  of  education.  Their  mutual  resemblances  and  con 
trasts,  the  prominent  features  of  their  correspondent  forms,  seem  to 
solicit  comparison  and  classification,  as  destined  results  of  man's  men 
tal  adaptation  to  the  scene  in  which  he  moves,  and  which  so  abounds 
in  objects  of  attractive  interest, — the  germs  of  intelligence,  enveloped 
in  consummate  beauty,  that  they  may  lead  to  the  conscious  delights 
of  knowledge. 

By  the  introductory  discipline  resulting  from  the  humble  exercise 
of  carefully  comparing  objects  and  their  characteristic  parts,  the  young 
mind  receives  its  preparation  for  the  scientific  intelligence  and  the 
conscious  pleasure  with  which  it  subsequently  enters  on  the  wide 
range  of  action  afforded  by  the  inviting  analogies  revealed  in  the 
study  of  comparative  physiology  and  anatomy,  and  in  all  investiga 
tions  to  which  science  conducts,  wherever  exact  classification  and  con 
summate  knowledge  are  dependent  on  attentive  and  faithful  compari 
son, — a  condition  equally  indispensable,  whether  in  collating  the 
vestiges  of  past  eras  in  the  physical  history  of  our  globe,  or  those  of 
language  and  of  intellect,  as  revealed  in  the  investigations  of  philology. 
Classification,  as  an  Exercise  for  the  Discipline  of  the  Perceptive 
faculties. — This  form  of  intellectual  action, — which,  in  its  various 
aspects,  may  be  said  to  constitute  and  to  consummate  human  know 
ledge,  in  whatever  department  we  contemplate, — is  the  immediate 
sequel  of  the  preceding  act  of  mind,  in  collating  the  objects  of  obser 
vation,  or  their  peculiar  features  and  characteristics.  The  resemblances 
which  comparison  recognizes  in  objects,  become  the  leading  titles  and 
significant  designations  of  groups  and  classes.  Intellect  is  thus  freed 
from  the  burden  of  the  endless  and  unsatisfactory  task  of  wandering 
from  object  to  object,  in  detail,  without  any  conscious  thread  of  con 
nection  or  guidance,  and  without  any  suggestion  of  a  definite  end  in 
view,  in  its  wearisome  mode  of  action.  By  the  aid  of  classification, 
the  chaos  of  disconnected  individualities  is  converted  into  an  orderly 
creation,  where  everything,  as  of  old,  is  seen  to  exist  "  after  his  kind." 
Knowledge  thus  becomes  a  series  of  aggregated  accumulations, 
arranged  and  labelled  to  the  intellectual  eye ;  and,  investigation  is 
rendered  a  rational  and  inviting  pursuit, — directed  by  definite  aims, 
and  leading  to  satisfactory  results. 

Benefits  of  Classification,  as  an  Intellectual  Exercise. — By  the 
process  of  classification,  man  is  enabled  to  trace  the  successive  footsteps 
of  the  Creator  in  the  outward  world,  to  recognize  the  grand  law  of 
universal  order,  and  yield  obedience  to  its  dictates  in  his  modes  of 


56  EDUCATION  OF  THE  PERCEPTIVE  FACULTIES. 

mental  action.  The  student  of  nature,  pursuing  his  investigations  in 
this  spirit,  is  prepared,  by  successive  illustrations  of  fact,  to  amplify 
his  classifications  into  those  wide  inductions  which  are  the  glory  of 
science,  and  which  aid  the  intellect  in  accomplishing  the  vast  general 
izations  for  which  its  powers  of  comprehension  and  its  ceaseless  a^pira- 
lions  seem  equally  adapted. 

The  exercise  of  classification  tends  to  create  in  the  young  mind  the 
love  of  order  and  method.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  strictly  logical  discipline, 
resulting  in  the  highest  mental  benefits,  and  preparing  the  heart  for 
the  influence  of  the  most  exalted  moral  principle.  It  belongs,  how 
ever,  as  a  process  of  mental  culture,  to  a  veiy  early  stage  of  intel 
lectual  progress,  and  begins  appropriately  with  the  first  conscious 
steps  of  advancement  in  the  observation  and  study  of  nature.  The 
child,  in  Nature's  great  school,  finds  himself  placed  in  a  vast  cabinet 
of  specimens,  which  he  takes  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  examining,  and 
from  which,  even  when  little  aided  by  formal  education,  he  draws, 
with  delight,  stores  of  personal  knowledge,  and  the  pure  pleasure  of 
the  conscious  activity  which  his  spirit  craves. 

The  objects  of  nature,  as  the  results  of  a  designing  Mind,  seem 
peculiarly  adapted  to  the  end  of  drawing  forth  the  action  of  intellect 
and  building  up  intellectual  character  in  the  human  being.  In  no 
respect  is  this  more  true  than  with  reference  to  the  facilities  furnished 
in  the  three  great  kingdoms  of  nature,  for  the  purely  intellectual  pro 
cesses  of  arranging  and  classifying  the  objects  of  observation.  The 
young  mind  here  finds  itself  placed  in  a  sphere  of  order,  in  which 
every  thing  is  arranged  for  the  correspondent  action  of  thought ;  in 
which  every  object  invites  to  observation,  and  every  group  solicits  a 
recognition  of  the  principle  of  classification. 

Early  Training  in  Classification. — Furnished  with  such  an  appa 
ratus  for  the  purposes  of  instruction,  the  teacher  has  but  to  point  sug 
gestively  to  the  successive  classes  of  objects  most  easily  accessible  to 
the  young  learner  in  the  great  classified  receptacles  of  earth,  air,  and 
water.  He  has  but  to  encourage  his  pupil  to  collect,  compare,  and 
classify  the  various  forms  of  mineral,  plant,  and  animal,  which  lie 
within  the  range  of  his  daily  walks;  or,  even  to  deposit,  in  any  con 
venient  and  suitable  receptacle,  groups  of  leaves  of  similar  form,  and 
to  define  the  shape  or  the  feature  which,  in  his  distribution  of  them, 
is  made  the  ground  of  classification.  The  learner  thus  obtains  a 
measure  and  a  record  of  his  progress  in  knowledge;  and,  the  know 
ledge  which  he  acquires,  possesses  a  true  and  substantial  character, 
which,  in  turn,  affects  that  of  his  mind,  giving  it  a  taste  for  solid 
acquirements  and  genuine  pleasures. 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 


INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. — The  classification  of  the  mental 
faculties  under  the  designations  of  "perceptive,"  "expressive,''  and 
"  reflective,"  was  adopted  in  the  preceding  lecture  of  this  series,  as  a 
convenient  one  for  a  survey  of  the  human  mind,  with  reference  to  the 
purposes  of  education.  This  classification,  it  was  mentioned,  could 
not  be  regarded  as  founded  on  lines  of  distinction  which  could  be 
assumed  as  rigorously  or  literally  exact ;  since  its  terms  are  properly 
but  so  many  names  for  various  states,  acts,  or  operations  of  the  mind, — 
itself  one  and  the  same  in  all. 

Imperfect  as  such  a  classification  must  necessarily  be,  however,  it 
enables  us,  by  its  distinctions,  to  trace  more  clearly  and  definitely  the 
forms  of  mental  action,  and  the  power  which  the  mind  possesses  of 
exerting  itself  in  different  modes  ;  and  it  affords  to  the  educator,  when 
contemplating  the  intellectual  capabilities  of  man  with  reference  to 
the  processes  and  effects  of  culture,  the  advantages  of  analysis  and 
systematic  examination,  as  aids  to  the  prosecution  of  his  inquiries. 

Following  the  order  of  nature  and  of  fact,  when  we  trace  the  suc 
cession  of  action  in  the  exercise  of  man's  intellectual  powers,  as  these 
are  designated  in  the  classification  which  we  have  adopted,  we  observe 
that,  in  the  mature  and  deliberate  use  of  the  mental  faculties,  the 
habitual  and  normal  succession  is,  (1.)  Observation,  (2.)  Reflection, 
(3.)  Expression.  In  the  immature  and  susceptible  condition  of 
childhood  and  youth,  however,  the  spontaneous  activity  and  develop 
ment  of  the  communicative  tendencies  of  the  mind  cause  the  action 
of  the  expressive  faculties  to  precede  that  of  the  reflective ;  and  to 
this  law  the  order  of  education  will  properly  correspond. 

The  perfect  action  and  discipline  of  the  power  of  expression,  re 
quire,  no  doubt,  all  the  aid  derived  from  the  maturity  of  reason  and  re 
flection,  and,  consequently,  an  advanced  stage  of  intellectual  culture. 
But,  in  the  history  of  man's  mental  progress,  under  the  guidance  of 
natural  laws,  the  educator  perceives  and  recognizes  in  the  young 
mind,  an  early  necessity  of  utterance,  or  of  expression  in  some  form, 
as  one  of  the  divinely  implanted  instincts  by  which  it  is  actuated,  and 


58  CULTIVATION  OF  TlIE  EXPRESSIVE   FACULTIES. 

which  therefore  becomes  an  indication  to  be  obeyed  in  the  plan  and 
progress  of  culture. 

The  phenomena  of  the  external  world  irresistibly  impel  the  child 
to  utter  the  emotions  which  they  excite  ;  and  the  judicious  educator 
will  always  encourage  the  young  observer  to  record  them,  long  before 
the  era  of  experience  in  which  they  become  subjects  of  reflective 
thought  or  profound  cogitation.  To  give  consistency  and  effect, 
however,  to  the  forms  of  expression, — whether  for  purposes  of  record 
or  of  discipline, — a  certain  degree  of  progress  must  have  been  attained 
in  the  exercise  and  development  not  only  of  the  perceptive,  but  also 
of  the  reflective  faculties ; — a  result  inseparable,  indeed, — as  was 
mentioned  in  the  preceding  lecture, — from  the  right  direction  of  ihe 
perceptive  powers  themselves.  In  this  and  in  every  other  attempt  to 
trace  the  order  of  mental  development,  we  are  always  brought  back 
to  the  grand  primal  truth  that  the  mind  is  properly  one,  in  all  its 
action  ;  we  are  reminded  that  this  great  fact  is  the  basis  of  all  true 
culture,  and  that  the  different  intellectual  faculties,  as  we  term  them, 
are  but  the  varied  phases  or  modes  of  action  of  the  same  subtle 
power. 

As  an  introduction,  accordingly,  to  the  discussion  of  the  principles 
which  regulate  the  cultivation  of  the  expressive  faculties,  as  a  depart 
ment  of  intellectual  education,  our  last  lecture  followed,  to  some 
extent,  the  necessary  connection  existing  between  the  discipline  of  the 
perceptive  faculties  and  the  primary  action  of  the  reflective.  With 
this  preliminary  preparation,  we  will  now  proceed,  on  the  plan  indi 
cated  in  the  first  lecture  of  this  series,  to  the  study  of  the  various 
forms  of  mental  action  which,  in  the  figurative  language  unavoidable 
in  all  intellectual  analysis  and  classification,  may  be  termed  the 
expressive  faculties. 

The  plan  proposed  embraced,  it  will  be  recollected,  the  following 
prominent  features: — (1.)  an  enumeration  of  each  group  of  faculties, 
by  its  modes,  or  forms, \  of  action.;  (2.)  the  actuating  principle,  or 
impelling  force,  of  each  group;  (3.)  the  tendency,  or  habit,  of  action 
in  each;  (4.)  the  result,  or  issue,  of  such  action  ;  (5.)  the  educational 
processes,  forms  of  exercise,  or  modes  of  culture,  suggested  by  the 
four  preceding  considerations. 

Following  the  order  here  mentioned,  we  commence  with  the 
(I.)     ENUMERATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

These  may  be  grouped  under  the  following  designations  : — Emotion, 
Imagination,  Fancy,  Imitation,  Personation,  Representation,  Lan 
guage,  Taste. 

Explanatory  Remark. — To  ascertain,  with  precision,  what  powers 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE   EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  59 

or  attributes  of  the  human  being  should  be  regarded  as  properly 
comprehended  under  the  above  denomination,  the  educator  would  do 
well,  here  as  elsewhere,  to  advert  to  the  primitive  signification  of  the 
term  which  is  employed  to  designate  the  class  of  faculties  to  which 
it  is  applied.  At  every  step  of  his  progress  in  the  study  of  man  as  a 
being  capable  of  systematic  development,  the  teacher  finds  a  guiding 
light  perpetually  emanating  from  the  primary  sense  of  the  terms 
which  constitute  the  nomenclature  of  intellectual  philosophy,  in  its 
nalysis  of  the  human  faculties.  These  terms  are  often  highly  figu 
rative,  and  hence  peculiarly  suggestive  with  reference  whether  to  dis 
tinctness  of  classification,  or  to  purposes  of  culture  and  development. 
In  no"  case  does  this  remark  apply  more  forcibly  than  in  the  present. 
The  term  "expression,"  (pressing  out,)  implies,  in  the  first  instance, 
the  existence  of  something  within,  which,  under  the  action  of  a  force, 
working  whether  from  within  or  from  without,  is  pressed  out,  and 
thus  rendered  external,  palpable,  or  perceptible. 

Referring  this  term  to  the  phenomena  of  human  experience,  we 
derive,  from  its  primary  and  figurative  sense,  the  inference,  or  impli 
cation,  that  man  is  endued  with  the  power  of  giving  an  external  man 
ifestation  to  his  internal  conditions  of  thought  or  feeling.  The  form 
of  this  manifestation  may  be  that  of  attitudes  and  actions  of  the  body, 
changes  in  the  aspect  of  the  countenance,  effects  on  the  tones  of  the 
voice,  or  efforts  in  the  organs  of  articulation,  and  modifications  of  the 
accents  of  speech ;  it  may  appear  in  imitative  acts,  in  suggestive 
graphic  delineation^,  or  in  intelligible  written  characters.  But  in  all 
cases,  it  is  the  representative  expression  (pressing  out>)  of  what  has 
been  impressed,  or  is  present,  within. — The  inward  working  may  be 
that  of  a  feeling,  an  affection,  an  emotion,  or  a  passion  :  it  may  be 
that  of  an  impressive  idea,  or  of  a  thought,  an  opinion,  or  a  senti 
ment.  But  the  result  is  invariably  an  outward  effect,  audible  or  visible. 

Whatever  power  or  faculty,  therefore,  has  an  agency  in  the  process 
of  thus  giving  an  external  manifestation  ^.o  an  internal  mental  condi 
tion,  will  be  appropriately  comprehended  under  the  designation 
*'  expressive  ;''  and  the  classification  will  be  exhaustive  and  complete, 
if  it  include  all  those  mental  states,  acts,  or  operations  which  give 
form  to  thought  or  feeling.  The  preceding  enumeration  of  the  ex 
pressive  faculties,  however,  is  intended  to  present  only  those  which 
are  prominently  active  in  the  ordinary  conditions  of  humanity,  and 
which  are  the  principal  subjects  of  disciplinary  training,  in  the  pro 
cesses  of  education. 

1.  EMOTION:  its  Offices  in  Expression. — Emotion  is  the  natural 
language  of  that  sensibility  which  tends  to  render  man  conscious  of 


60  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

himself,  which  serves  to  unite  him,  by  a  law  of  sympathy,  with  othei 
beings  as  well  as  with  those  of  his  own  race,  and  which,  as  a  stim 
ulus  to  his  power  of  will,  impels  him  to  the  various  forms  of  salutary 
and  pleasurable,  or  injurious  and  destructive  action.  Without  this 
power,  (  u  emotion," — rtwviny  outward,)  man  might,  indeed,  possess 
the  profoundest  capacity  of  feeling,  the  utmost  depth  of  thought,  the 
grandest  or  the  most  beautiful  forms  of  imagination.  His  whole 
inner  world  might  be  consciously  a  scene  of  ideal  glory.  But,  to  his 
fellow  man,  he  would  be  mute  and  unintelligible.  Self-contained  and 
solitary,  the  individual  would  be  as  destitute  of  sympathy  as  of 
expression,  and  live  unappreciated  and  uninterpreted,  because  incom 
municative  and  unintelligible. 

Emotion,  therefore,  we  6nd  is  not  left  wholly  at  the  discretion  or 
the  control  of  man,  as  a  purely  voluntary  power.  Its  first  and  all  its 
strongest  manifestations  are  spontaneous  and  involuntary.  It  is  the 
natural  and  irrepressible  language  of  that  wondrous  capacity  of 
pleasure  and  pain  with  which  the  human  being  is  invested,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  susceptive  sensibility  with  which  his  Creator  has  seen 
fit  to  enliven  and  to  protect  his  nature. 

Emotion,  as  the  natural  expression  of  sympathy,  renders  feeling 
legible  and  audible,  and  thus  enables  man  instinctively  to  utter  or  to 
interpret  the  language  of  the  heart ;  as  an  intimation  of  the  will,  it 
enables  him  to  read  the  disposition  and  intentions,  friendly  or  hostile, 
of  his  fellow  beings.  It  is  an  early  instrument  of  power  to  the  help 
lessness  or  the  sufferings  of  infancy,  while  it  proofed  ins  the  presence 
of  pain,  and  brings  to  the  little  patient  the  ready  sympathy  and  reme 
dial  aid  of  the  mother.  It  expresses  and  attracts  the  sympathetic 
affections  of  childhood  and  youth.  It  gives  eloquence  to  the  speech 
of  man,  warmth  to  the  cordial  welcome  of  friendship,  or  fire  to  the 
hostility  of  hatred.  It  melts  in  pity  and  compassion  for  suffering;  it 
glows  with  indignation  at  oppression  and  wrong;  it  bends  in  humility 
and  adoration  before  Infinke  majesty,  and  in  reverence  to  human 
worth  ;  or  it  looks  haughtily  down  on  the  lowly,  spurns  the  petitioner 
for  mercy,  and  tramples  on  t  hg  weak  and  the  unresisting.  Its  power 
for  good  or  evil  is  unspeakable  in  all  that  involves  the  moral  or  the 
intellectual  character  of  human  utterance. 

The  Forms  cf  Emotion. — These  are  as  various  as  the  mental  rela 
tions  of  man.  It  is  Love,  in  the  instincts  of  affection  ;  Wonder,  in 
those  of  the  intellect;  Awe,  in  those  of  the  spirit ;  Admiration,  in 
those  of  sentiment  ;  Joy  and  Grief,  to  the  heart ;  Hatred  and  Re 
venge,  in  the  malif/nant  passions ;  Ardor  and  Enthusiasm,  in  the  aspi 
rations  of  the  soul ;  Courage  and  Exultation,  in  conflict.;  Fear  and 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  (ft 

Terror,  in  danger  j  Embarrassment,  Confusion,  and  Shame,  in  failure 
or  defeat ;  Anguish,  in  pain  j  Contrition  or  Remorse,  in  conscious 
guilt ;  Agony  and  Despair,  in  utter  ruin;  Serenity,  Tranquillity,  and 
Peace,  in  conscious  rectitude ;  Calmness  and  Composure,  in  self- 
control  ;  Sorrow  and  Gladness,  in  sympathy;  Laughter,  in  mirth  ; 
Caricature,  in  humor  ;  Gloom,  in  melancholy. 

Effects  of  Emotion. — Its  aspects  and  its  traits  are  as  numerous  as 
the  ever-changing  moods  of  the  "  many-sided  mind  ;"  and  its  power 
of  expression  ranges  through  all  degrees  of  force,  from  the  gentle 
half-whisper  of  confiding  love,  or  the  accents  of  a  mother's  tender 
ness,  to  the  scream  of  madness  and  the  burst  of  rage.  It  moves  to 
deeds  of  gentleness  and  mercy,  as  consciously  pleasing  acts  dictated 
by  the  principle  of  duty  ;  and  it  prompts  to  the  perpetration  of  crimes 
at  the  thought  of  which  humanity  shudders.  In  all  circumstances 
it  becomes  an  expressive  language  of  indescribable  power, — a  power 
for  the  exercise  of  which  man  is  laid  under  responsiblencss  the  most 
appalling.  Its  genial  effects  carry  man  beyond  the  limits  of  his 
nature,  and  enable  him  to  approximate  to  the  benignity  of  an  angel ; 
and  its  malignant  workings  invest  him  with  the  character  of  a  fiend. 

Emotion,  the  Inspiration  of  Language. — Emotion,  as  the  natural, 
involuntary,  or  irrepressible  manifestation  of  feeling,  is,  in  itself,  the 
primary  form  as  well  as  cause  of  expression.  The  writhings  and  the 
outcries  of  pain,  the  tears  and  the  wailings  of  sorrow,  tlie  smiles  and 
the  sweet  tones  of  pleasure,  the  leaping  and  the  laughter  of  exuberant 
joy,  the  exultant  attitudes  and  shouts  of  triumph,  the  frown,  the 
harsh  tone,  and  the  blow  of  anger,  are  all  a  universally  intelligible 
language.  But  emotion  is  also  the  power  which  gives  life,  and  force, 
and  effect  to  voluntary  and  deliberate  utterance,  not  only  in  the  tones 
of  spoken  language  but  in  the  burning  words  which  the  glowing 
heart  prompts  to  the  pen  of  the  eloquent  writer,  and  which,  when 
read  from  the  mouldering  parchment  or  the  crumbling  tablet,  ages 
after  they  were  written,  have  still  the  power  to  stir  men's  blood,  "  as 
with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet."  It  inspires  the  modern  youth  with 
the  eloquence  of  Demosthenes,  in  the  words  with  which  he  "  fulmined 
over  Greece  ;"  it  kindles  the  heart  of  the  student  in  his  "still  removed 
place,"  with  the  fire  and  the  shout  and  the  fierceness  of  the  battle 
scenes  of  Homer ;  it  appalls  him  with  the  spectacle  of  the  victims  of 
inexorable  fate,  in  the  defiant  appeals  of  the  suffering  Prometheus,  as 
he  writhes  on  his  rock  of  torture, — in  the  superhuman  agonies  of  the 
doomed  Orestes, — in  the  wailings  of  the  guiltless  CEdipus,  when  he 
is  awakened  to  the  complicated  horrors  which  he  has  unwittingly 
drawn  down  upon  himself  and  upon  the  very  authors  of  his  being. 


C2  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

It  is  the  same  expressive  power,  in  its  more  genial  forms,  which  lulli* 
the  youthful  reader  into  the  dreamy  repose  of  the  pastoral  scenes  of 
the  eclogue,  where 

11  Every  shepherd  tells  his  (ale 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale." 

It  is  the  same  power,  in  its  ecstatic  moods,  which  lights  up  the  soul 
with  the  brilliant  fire  of  the  lyre  ode,  whose  burning  words  have 
immortalized  equally  the  bard  and  the  hero  of  the  antique  world  of 
gods  and  godlike  men ;  and  it  is  still  the  same  magic  power  over 
sympathy  which  holds  us  entranced  over  "  what,  though  rare,  of  later 
age,"  we  feel  to  possess  the  same  sway  over  the  heart  as  that  which 
was  written  of  old  for  all  time. 

2.  IMAGINATION  :  its  Office  in  Expression. — Emotion  endows  man 
with  the  power  of  expression  :  his  ability  to  give  force  and  effect  to 
expression,  is  as  his  capability  of  emotion  ;  and  the  vividness  of  emo 
tion  is  dependent  on  his  susceptibility  of  feeling.  But  the  utmost  in 
tensity  of  feeling  might  exist  in  internal  consciousness  merely ;  the 
most  vehement  excitement  of  emotion  might  find  no  definite  or  intel 
ligible  manifestation;  it  might  be  but  the  idiot's  ** sound  and  fury, 
signifying  nothing;"  the  noblest* sentiments  of  the  human  soul  might 
find  no  adequate  expression ;  were  it  not  for  the  action  of  another 
faculty, — that  whose  office  it  is  to  give  form  to  the  vague  eftVcts  of 
feeling,  to  embody  the  evanescent  phenomena  of  emotion,  and  to  give 
to  the  abstractions  of  thought  and  the  generalizations  of  sentiment  a 
definite  shape  and  the  durability  of  a  permanent  record. 

Consciousness  and  introversion  might  enable  the  individual  man  to 
hold  communion  with  his  own  inner  conditions  of  thought  and  feel 
ing;  and  memory  might  enable  him  to  recall  them.  But,  as  it  is  not 
given  to  man,  by  any  act  of  mere  direct  introspection,  to  read  the 
heart  or  mind  of  his  fellow  man,  sympathetic  and  intelligent  human 
intercommunication  requires,  as  a  condition,  the  aid  of  some  power  or 
faculty  by  which  feeling  may  be  distinctly  manifested,  not  merely  in 
its  stronger  and  involuntary  excitements,  but  also  in  its  quietest  moods, 
in  its  gentlest  movements  and  most  delicate  eff  cts.  The  communica 
tion  of  pure  thought,  apart  entirely  from  excited  emotion,  is  also  a 
necessity  of  man's  mental  character  and  relations.  Intellect,  not  less 
than  feeling,  has  its  claims  on  utterance,  that  the  individual  may  be 
come  consciously  a  progressive  being,  and  that  mutual  intelligence 
and  benefit  may  be  ensured  to  society.  Some  means,  in  a  word,  are 
needed  to  represent  what  is  present  to  the  mind,  to  suggest  the  idea 
or  the  thought  which,  by  a  law  of  his  nature  impelling  him,  man  de 
sires  to  communicate  to  his  fallow  being. 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  (53 

Analogy,  the  Medium  of  Ex2)ression. — Taught  by  a  wisdom  above 
his  own,  man  finds,  in  the  analogies  of  the  outward  universe,  corre 
spondences  to  his  own  inward  states  of  thought  and  feeling.  These 
analogous  forms  lie  refers  to  as  interpreters,  in  his  acts  of  expression ; 
lie  transfers  them,  by  a  heaven-taught  instinct,  from  their  original  places 
in  the  visible  outward  sphere  to  his  own  inner  and  invisible  world  of 
thought  and  feeling.  These  borrowed  forms,  addressing  themselves 
to  a  common  nature  in  common  circumstances,  become  the  suggestive 
language  of  emotion  and  intelligence  between  man  and  man ;  and, 
as  intellectual  skill  and  expertness  are  developed,  these  forms  are  at 
length  multiplied  and  complicated  so  as  to  assume  all  the  varied  shapes 
of  the  current  coin  of  speech,  even  in  its  most  arbitrary  modes  ; — just  as, 
in  the  history  of  human  intercourse,  traffic,  which  commenced  with 
the  interchange  and  barter  of  commodities,  gradually  becomes  a 
process  of  purchase  and  sale,  by  the  adoption  of  convenient  forms 
representing  value  and  price. 

Significance  of  the  term  "Imagination" — The  power  by  which 
man  recognizes  the  analogies  of  form  presented  in  the  external  world, 
the  power  by  which  he  represents  these,  the  power  by  which  he  trans 
fers  these  to  his  own  internal  world,  and  thus  images,  by  analogy, 
his  invisible,  impalpable,  feelings  and  conceptions ;  the  power  which 
thus  embodies  sentiment,  and  gives  shape  to  language  and  all  other 
modes  of  expression,  is,  suggestively  named  "Imagination," — the 
imaging  faculty.  , 

The  Sphere  of  Imagination. — The  office  of  this  faculty,  as  an  ex 
pressive  power,  is  one  of  vast  extent  and  of  immense  value ;  and  its 
domain,  like  that  of  emotion,  is  indefinite.  Intellect,  in  its  widest  excur 
sions  and  its  highest  aims,  is  definite  and  limited.  Its  outward  sphere 
is  that  of  sense,  as  comprehended  by  the  understanding,  and  measured 
by  the  rule  of  judgment  ;  its  inner  sphere  is  that  of  reason  acting  on 
data  of  definite  thought,  even  in  its  purest  abstractions  and  widest 
generalizations.  Intellect,  in  its  judicial  and  critical  capacity,  may 
justly  assume  the  authority  of  deciding  on  the  symmetry  and  pro 
portion  of  expression  as  the  form  of  thought.  But  it  has  no  creative, 
no  inventive  power  by  which  to  call  up  form ;  it  may  interpret  or  ex 
plain  feeling  ;  but  it  can  not,  without  the  aid  of  imagination,  embody 
it.  Imagination  extends  its  dominion  alike  over  feeling  and  intellect: 
it  possesses,  exclusively,  the  power  of  investing  them  with  form.  As 
a  sovereign  in  the  vast  world  of  analogy,  it  reaches,  in  one  direction, 
to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  outward  universe,  wherever  form  exists, 
in  conditions  known  or  unknown  ;  in  another  direction,  it  penetrates 
the  deepest  secrets  of  human  feeling,  and  brings  them  up  from  their 


64  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

darkest  regions  of  half-unconscious  being  to  the  world  of  form  and 
light,  endues  them  with  conscious  life  and  speech,  and  sends  them 
abroad  as  ministering  angels  of  good  or  evil ;  in  still  another  direction, 
it  explores  the  ethereal  world  of  thought,  and,  by  its  creative  energy, 
gives  imagery,  and  form,  and  recognized  character  to  impalpable 
ideas,  clothes  the  naked  conceptions  of  intellect  with  the  garb  of 
symmetrical  expression,  forges  the  golden  links  of  language  for  the 
continuous  processes  of  reason,  invests  sentiment  with  the  living  maj 
esty  and  power  of  utterance,  and  crowns  the  inspired  productions  of 
the  artist  and  the  poet  with  the  consummate  beauty  of  form  and  the 
music  of  immortal  verse. 

3.  FANCY:  its  Effects  on  Expression. — This  faculty,  although  it 
possesses  a  character  so  peculiarly  marked  by  external  tendencies,  and 
proneness  to  a  lower  sphere  of  action  than  that  of  imagination,  can 
hardly  claim,  with  justice,  the  dignity  of  a  separate  and  independent 
existence.  The  term  "Fancy,"  (fantasy,)  is,  strictly  speaking,  but 
another  name  for  imagination,  when  that  faculty,  as  an  expressive 
power,  assumes,  occasionally,  a  lower  than  its  wonted  office,  and,  not 
content  with  the  creation  of  form,  descends  to  the  addition  of  minute 
detail,  in  the  shape,  or  figure,  or  color  of  its  embodiments.  Fancy, 
considered  as  a  separate  faculty,  may  be  regarded  as  the  servant  and 
laborer  of  imagination,  employed  to  take  charge  of  all  the  merely  out 
ward  effects  of  expressive  art,  but  whose  ambition  sometimes  leads  it  to 
aim  at  higher  offices  than  it  is,  in  itself,  competent  to  fill.  Attempting 
the  creation  of  visible  beauty,  it  assumes  the  office  of  a  presiding  deity 
over  the  fleeting,  fluctuating  phenomena  of  fashion  and  other  mani 
festations  of  arbitrary  taste.  Uniting  itself  with  humor  and  burlesque, 
it  displays  the  whole  world  of  fantastic  oddity,  drollery,  and  grotesque 
effects,  of  every  species.  It  handles,  with  peculiar  skill,  the  pencil  of 
the  caricaturist,  and  delights,  sometimes,  in  the  most  hideous  exaggera 
tions.  It  contrives,  occasionally,  to  Jay  mischievous  hands  on  Taste, 
and  with  perverting  influence  to  make  her  play  all  manner  of  antics, 
quite  unconscious,  all  the  while,  how  infinitely  absurd  and  ridiculous 
she  is  making  herself  appear.  Hence  the  whole  world  of  absurd  form 
and  combinations  in  modes  of  dress  and  decoration,  in  incongruous 
architecture,  deformed  sculpture,  distorted  drawing,  tawdry  coloring, 
paltry  novel-writing,  fugitive  (and  vagabond)  verses,  agonistic  orations, 
and  nondescript  lectures. 

Fancy,  however,  has  also  her  own  becoming  and  proper  part  to 
play,  when,  in  strictest  unison  with  true  Taste,  and  in  filial  obedience 
to  her  parent,  Imagination,  she  gives  symmetry  to  our  dwellings  and 
to  our  garments,  genuine  grace  to  manners,  true  beauty  to  our  gardens, 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  (55 

happy  touches  to  the  details  of  artistic  execution,  chaste  style  to  wri 
ting,  and  manly  plainness  to  speech. 

4.  IMITATION  :  its  Tendencies. — The  faculty  of  Imitation  and  the 
tendency  to  its  exercise,  which, — in  the  earlier  stages  of  life,  more  par 
ticularly, — man  possesses  in  common  with  many  other  of  the  animal 
tribes,  form,  in  whatever  regards  expression,  a  peculiar  source  of 
power.  It  ensures,  when  judiciously  developed,  as  a  salutary  instinct, 
all  the  advantages  arising  from  native  facility,  as  contrasted  with  the 
comparatively  slow  acquirements  and  laborious  endeavors  of  mere  arti 
ficial  or  mechanical  training.  The  long  non-age  required  for  the 
comparatively  slow  development  and  maturing  of  the  human  being, 
implies  a  large  dependence  on  the  fostering  care  of  parental  guardian 
ship  and  example ;  and  the  innate  propensity  to  imitation,  on  the  part 
of  the  child,  coincides,  in  the  effect  of  rendering  more  ample  the 
opportunity  of  a  long  course  of  model  training  and  practical  lessons 
in  the  appropriate  accomplishments  of  humanity.  Among  these, 
Speech,  as  the  consummation  of  the  expressive  faculties,  thus  becomes 
the  inheritance  which  one  generation  transmits  to  another, — a  posses 
sion  unconsciously  acquired,  although  actually  the  result  of  long-con 
tinued  training,  and  sometimes,  of  painful  efforts  in  detail. 

Drawing,  as  an  Imitative  Art. — The  imitative  tendency  of  the 
young,  leading,  as  it  does,  to  the  perfecting  of  utterance,  as  an  exer 
cise  in  which  practice  begets  skill,  extends  its  influence,  by  the  law  of 
analogy,  far  and  wide,  over  every  branch  of  art  which  involves  ex 
pression  as  a  result.  Nq^is  there  one  of  all  these  branches  which 
does  not,  by  the  habitual  practice  of  it,  under  the  same  law,  serve  to 
discipline  and  perfect  the  power  of  expression  in  every  other. 

The  feelings,  the  imagination,  the  conceptive  power,  the  taste,  and 
even  the  critical  judgment  of  the  young  mind,  are  all  called  into  as 
active  exercise,  in  every  earnest  attempt  to  draw  in  outline,  to  shade, 
or  to  color  the  form  of  any  external  object,  as  in  any  endeavor  to 
describe  it  by  tongue  or  pen.  Indeed,  the  extreme  fixedness  of  atten 
tion  demanded  for  exact  and  faithful  delineation  by  the  pencil,  ensures 
a  yet  higher  degree  of  mental  activity,  than  does  any  other  form  of 
descriptive  execution,  and  contributes  more  effectually  to  the  develop 
ment  of  graphic  power  of  expression  in  language,  than  can  any  direct 
exercise  in  speech  or  writing ;  because  the  same  powers  are  exerted  in 
the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  but  with  much  more  care  and  closeness 
of  application.  . 

Music,  as  an  Imitative  Art. — Another  of  the  poetic  and  purely 
beneficent  forms  of  the  divinely  implanted  faculty  of  imitation,  by 
which  man  attains  the  development  of  his  powers  of  expression  and 

I  E 


QQ  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

communication,  is  that  of  Music,  in  the  form  of  song.  The  young 
ear  drinks  in,  instinctively  and  intuitively,  the  beauty  of  sound,  as  the 
eye  takes  in  that  of  form  and  color.  The  laws  of  nu-lodic  variation 
of  tone  seem  to  be  inscribed  on  the  human  ear,  with  few  exceptions, 
as  the  laws  of  graceful  form  and  expansion  are  stamped  on  the  plant. 
But  the  musical  sense  is  not  a  merely  dry  perception  or  recognition,  or 
a  mechanical  obedience  to  law.  It  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  forms 
in  which  man  becomes  conscious  of  the  pleasure  of  feeling  or  the 
power  of  emotion ;  and,  as  his  culture  extends,  he  recognizes  it  as 
the  intelligent  utterance  of  sentiment,  in  the  noblest  expressions  of 
social  sympathy,  or  even  of  devotional  aspiration. 

The  imitative  practice  of  music,  accordingly,  in  all  its  forms,  from 
the  humblest  lullaby  of  the  nursery  to  the  most  exalt<-d  strains  of  the 
perfect  vocalist,  becomes  a  powerful  discipline  of  the  ear,  because  of 
the  heart,  the  intellect,  and  the  imagination.  It  prepares  them  to 
receive  more  fully  the  impressions  of  the  melody  of  speech,  and,  in 
due  season,  to  give  forth  their  effects  in  appropriate  expression.  The 
child  imbibes  from  the  mother's  song  the  theme  of  its  own  imitative 
efforts,  and  from  the  simple  beauty  of  the  natural  model,  catches,  at  the 
same  time,  unconsciously,  the  emotion  of  which  it  is  the  utterance,  and 
thus  early  learns  to  unite  expression  with  feeling.  At  a  later  stage  of 
his  musical  culture  and  development,  he  acquires  more  consciously  and 
more  distinctly,  a  perception  of  the  inspiration  which  marks  the  tones 
of  the  empassioned  eloquence  of  the  orator  and  the  poet,  and  learns 
to  appreciate  the  delicious  melody  offlBp  "  numerous  verse"  which 
"clothes  the  poet's  thought  in  fitting  sound." 

The  great  masters  in  musical  science  and  art,  abundantly  prove,  by 
the  transcendent  delight  which  their  efforts  yield  to  universal  man, 
the  power  and  value  of  music  as  an  expressive  art,  independently  of 
its  relation  to  the  cultivation  of  the  power  of  language.  But  the  in 
tensity  of  pleasure  derived  from  the  perfection  of  musical  composition 
and  execution  combined,  suggests  instructively  to  the  educator  the 
power  which  even  the  elementary  practice  of  this  imitative  art  exerte 
on  the  character  of  expression,  when  embodied  in  the  forms  of  lan 
guage, — the  ability  which  it  gives  to  touch  the  heart,  or  to  kindle 
emotion,  and  to  throw  the  whole  soul  of  the  speaker  and  the  writer 
into  the  mould  of  utterance. 

5.  PERSONATION:  its  Tendency  and  Effects,  an  a  Mode  of  Ex 
pression. — The  faculty  of  imitation  with  which  man  is  endowed,  as  a 
form  of  expressive  power,  leading  him  to  the  acquisition  of  language, 
is  early  manifested  in  the  passion  of  childhood  for  Personation;  the 
living,  actual  representation  of  what  lie  sees  going  on  in  the  human 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  gy 

world  around  him.  The  lively  feelings  of  the  child  are  not  satisfied 
with  the  mere  verbal  presentation  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the  arbi 
trary  and  conventional  forms  of  language.  He  has  an  instinctive 
desire  to  impersonate  the  being  of  others  in  himself,  and  thus  to  en 
ter  more  fully  into  their  feelings,  and  acquire  a  truer  power  of  ex 
pressing  them.  To  his  fresh  sympathies  and  ever  active  imagination, 
life  around  him  is  a  drama :  "  all  the  world's  a  stage,  and  all  the  men 
and  women  are  but  players,"  each  performing  his  part. 

The  child,  the  primitive  man,  the  poet,  all  tend  to  dramatize  hu 
man  life,  and  to  present  it  in  living  impersonation.  The  boy  struts 
the  mimic  soldier,  to  his  own  mimic  music;  he  drags  his  little  wagon 
as  an  imaginary  fire-engine,  or  mounts  a  chair  and  plays  the  orator 
to  his  little  mates.  In  his  puerile  sports,  he  enacts  a  character  or  an 
incident,  in  dumb  show,  and  requires  that  his  juvenile  companions 
shall  express  it  in  words.  He  personates  a  hero  in  history,  or  makes 
one  in  a  group  in  a  tableau,  in  which,  as  an  Indian  brave,  he  is  about 
to  dash  out  the  brains  of  Captain  Smith  with  his  war-club,  when  his 
sister,  as  the  compassionate  princess  Pocahontas,  rushes  in,  and  res 
cues  the  hero.  At  the  academy  exhibition,  he  personifies  Mark  An 
tony  weeping  over  the  murdered  Csesar,  and  with  words  of  fire  rousing 
the  Romans  to  mutiny,  "  crying  havoc !  and  letting  slip  the  dogs  of 
war;"  or  he  resorts,  in  preference,  to  the  pen,  and  dramatizes  a  scene 
from  his  country's  history,  which  he  and  his  class-mates  enact  to  the 
life,  according  to  their  power.  In  the  maturity  of  his  intellect,  and 
smid  the  grave  duties  of  professional  life,  he  pauses,  perhaps,  to  re 
create  himself,  and  delight  the  world  with  the  production  of  a  Comus 
or  a  Hamlet,  in  which,  besides  furnishing  the  composition,  he  still 
takes  an  active  part  in  the  business  of  representation,  and,  true  to  the 
dramatic  instinct  of  his  nature,  sustains  a  character  himself.  It  is 
thus  that  he  completes  the  educational  training  by  which  he  attains 
to  the  height  of  eloquence  and  expressive  power  in  word  and  action ; 
and  this  dramatic  faculty  of  personation,  while  it  gives  vividness  and 
intensity  to  his  utterance,  proclaims  the  meaning  and  intention  of  the 
self-discipline  to  which  he  was  early  impelled,  by  unconscious  instinct. 
6.  REPRESENTATION  :  The  Language  of  Signs. — In  addition  to  the 
more  imaginative  and,  sometimes,  physical  or  corporeal  manifestations 
of  expressive  power,  which  the  human  being  exhibits  in  imitative  acts, 
he  possesses,  as  his  special  attribute,  in  virtue  of  his  intellectual  en 
dowments,  working  in  unison  with  the  instinctive  elements  of  his  na 
ture,  that  peculiar  faculty  of  Representation,  by  which  he  is  enabled 
to  suggest  his  thoughts  or  feelings  to  the  mind  of  his  fellow  man,  by 
substituting  for  graphic  or  mimetic,  or  other  forms  of  delineation,  con- 


(53  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

ventional  signs,  audible  or  visible,  devised  by  his  imaginative  facul 
ties  of  invention  and  combination.  These  signs  are  recognized  and 
defined  by  his  conceptive  intellect;  they  are  interpreted  by  the  under 
standing,  acting  on  a  law  of  arbitrary  association,  established  by  mu 
tual  agreement  or  common  consent,  and  ultimately  sanctioned  by 
prevalent  usage.  Furnished  with  this  primitive  telegraphic  apparatus 
of  audible  and  visible  signs,  man  is  enabled  to  put  himself  in  com 
munication  with  his  sympathetic,  intelligent,  and  rational  fellow- 
beings, — to  reveal  to  them  the  workings  of  his  mind,  and  disclose  the 
inmost  secrets  of  his  heart. 

Speech  and  Writing. — Disciplined  and  perfected  by  art  and  skill, 
and  aided  by  ingenious  and  asiduous  educational  cultivation,  man's 
primitive  power  of  utterance  and  expression,  ultimately  manifests  it 
self  in  the  consummated  forms  of  spoken  and  written  language,  regu 
lated  by  the  laws  of  thought,  as  dictated  by  the  sciences  of  logic  and 
grammar,  and  adorned  by  the  graces  of  rhetoric. 

Language,  a  measure  of  Power. — The  feeble  but  persevering  en 
deavors  of  childhood  to  conquer  the  difficulties  of  articulation,  and  to 
compass  the  power  of  oral  expression,  indicate,  by  the  successive 
years  which  the  task  demands,  how  arduous  is  its  accomplishment, 
and  how  thoroughly  it  puts  to  proof  the  ability  which  the  young  hu 
man  being  possesses  to  direct  and  develop  his  own  powers  of  exe 
cution.  Yet  more  striking  is  the  magnitude  of  the  task  and  the  tri 
umph,  in  the  progress  achieved  by  the  student  of  written  language, 
from  the  date  of  his  first  attempt,  in  boyhood,  to  pen  a  letter  or  com 
pose  a  theme,  to  the  time  when,  in  the  maturity  of  his  intellectual 
manhood,  he  rises  to  address  assembled  multitudes  of  his  fellow  men, 
and  to  sway  them  by  the  potency  of  triurnj  hant  eloquence;  or  when 
be  issues  from  his  poetic  privacy  a  work  which  shall  live  for  ages,  as 
an  object  of  wonder  and  admiration. 

Pictured  and  Written  Characters. — Somewhat  similar,  indeed, 
have  been  the  difficulty  and  the  progress  in  the  attainment  of  a  mas 
tery  over  the  merely  external  part  of  written  language ;  as  we  per 
ceive  when  tracing  the  process  from  its  primal  rude  attempts  in  the 
form  of  graphic  delineations,  through  its  advancement  to  symbolic 
representation,  and,  ultimately,  to  phonetic  characters  and  alphabetic 
letters.  Of  the  width  of  this  vast  field  of  human  labor,  and  of  the 
toil  which  its  cultivation  has  cost,  we  have  no  adequate  conception, 
till  we  look  at  the  graphic  delineations  which  form  the  historical 
records  of  Nineveh,  or  at  the  symbolic  hieroglyphics  and  the  clumsy 
phonetic  characters  inscribed  on  the  temples  of  Egypt,  and  then  con 
trast  with  these  the  simple  and  symmetrical  letters  of  the  Greek  or 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  gg 

Roman  alphabet,  known  and  read  alike  throughout  the  ancient  and 
modern  world  of  civilization. 

The  Value  of  Language. — Man's  expressive  power  seems  to  have 
consummated  itself  in  the  representative  phenomena  of  language. 
In  this  form  his  whole  nature,  animal,  intellectual,  and  moral,  finds 
effectual  utterance ;  and  by  this  instrumentality,  does  he  become  pre 
eminently  a  progressive  being.  Language  is  the  channel  in  which 
the  ceaseless  stream  of  mental  action  flows  onward  to  its  great  re 
sults.  Without  this  outlet,  his  soul,  imprisoned  within  itself,  would 
stagnate,  and  all  its  wondrous  powers  perish  from  inaction.  As  the 
medium  of  communication  between  mind  and  mind,  language  renders 
education  practicable,  and  brings  to  the  aid  of  the  individual  the  ac 
cumulated  thoughts  of  all  times  and  of  all  men.  Language  is  the 
peculiar  and  chosen  province  of  education.  Every  process  of  human 
culture  is  conducted  through  its  agency ;  every  result  attained  in  hu 
man  progress  is  recorded  in  its  terms ;  and  in  every  civilized  and  cul 
tivated  community  language  is  justly  taken  as  the  measure  of  indi 
vidual  and  social  attainment. 

7.  TASTE  :  The  Signification  of  the  Term. — The  word  k'  Taste,"  em 
ployed  to  designate  one  of  the  expressive  faculties,  might  seem,  from 
its  primary  signification,  (relish,}  to  be  one  appropriately  applied 
rather  to  a  passive  and  receptive  condition  of  mind,  than  to  one  so 
active  or  energetic  as  are  all  those  which  are  properly  termed  "ex 
pressive."  But,  in  the  affairs  of  the  mental  world,  not  less  than  in 
those  of  the  political,  influence  is  often  more  efficient  than  power. 
So  it  is  with  Taste. — The  office  of  this  faculty  in  relation  to  express 
ion,  is  to  retain,  in  the  selection  and  use  of  language,  the  relish  for 
appropriateness,  symmetry,  and  grace,  which  the  soul  has  imbibed 
from  the  primitive  beauty  of  the  forms  and  the  effects — in  other 
words,  the  language — of  nature, — that  other  name  for  life  and  truth. 

Character  of  True  Taxte. — As  true  taste  secures  genuine  beauty  of 
effect,  it  is  not  a  merely  passive  power.  It  rejects  every  false  savor ; 
for  it  relishes  only  the  true.  It  refuses  to  inhale  the  flavor  of  the 
artificial  perfume ;  because  it  prefers  the  aroma  of  nature.  It  detests 
the  ugly,  and  shuns  the  ungraceful ;  but  it  loves  the  truly  beautiful, 
and  builds  the  fabric  of  noble  thought  "  after  the  pattern  shown  it  on 
the  mount,"  as  a  chaste  harmonious  whole,  conceived  in  pure  ideal 
perfection,  and  executed  with  faultless  skill,  like  that  structure  which 

"Rose  like  an  exhalation,  with  the  sound 
Of  dulcet  symphonies  and  vo:ces  sweet ; 
Built  like  a  temple,  where  pilasters  round 
Were  set,  and  Doric  pillars  overlaid 
With  golden  architrave  ;  nor  did  there  want 
Cornice  or  fri^e  with  bossy  sculpture  graven  ; 
The  roof  was  fretted  gold." 


70  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

Tiiste  is  not  a  quality  merely  negative  in  its  influence  :  it  is,  in 
language,  a  positive  power.  It  suggests  and  prescribes  beauty  ;  and, 
in  all  expression,  beauty  is  power.  Taste  virtually  decides  and  ordains 
the  forms  of  language.  It  is  therefore  justly  classed  as  an  expressive 
faculty.  It  blends  its  effects,  undoubtedly,  with  those  of  imagination 
and  fancy,  and  with  those  of  sentiment  and  emotion  ;  controlling  and 
directing  and  modifying  these  by  its  intuitive  recognition  of  the  eter 
nal  laws  of  beauty  and  proportion,  and  instinctively  rejecting  every 
blemish.  If  it  is  sometimes  lost,  to  appearance,  in  the  effects  pro 
duced  by  the  more  obvious  working  of  other  expressive  forces ;  its 
actual  presence  and  power  are  not  less  deeply  felt  in  the  pervading 
harmony  which,  in  such  circumstances,  it  has  established,  and  the 
genuine  beauty  which  it  has  diffused.  Its  influence  extends  over 
every  form  of  expressive  art;  and  its  results  are  equally  legible  in  all. 
It  guides  the  pencil  of  the  painter,  the  chisel  of  the  sculptor,  the  tool 
of  the  artizan,  the  hand  of  the  musician,  the  pen  of  the  poet,  the 
voice  and  action  of  the  speaker.  It  reigns  over  every  form  of  lan 
guage;  and  it  moulds  alike  habit,  character,  and  manners  ;  for  all  of 
these  are  but  varied  modes  of  expression. 

Taste,  under  the  Influence  of  Culture. — Of  all  the  faculties  with 
which  man  is  endued,  none,  perhaps,  is  more  susceptible  of  cultivation 
than  taste ;  and  none  yields  larger  results  to  the  process.  Trained 
under  the  fresh  aspects  of  nature,  and  the  strict  discipline  of  truth,  it 
becomes  one  of  the  most  healthful  influences  that  a  liberal  culture 
infuses  into  the  human  soul.  It  leads  to  the  true,  the  pure,  and  the 
beautiful,  in  every  relation  of  thought  and  feeling.  Next  to  the  hal 
lowing  influence  of  religious  principle,  it  elevates  and  refines  the  whole 
being,  and  confers  pure  and  lasting  enjoyment  on  its  possessor.  It 
forms  one  of  the  most  attractive  graces  of  character,  and  breathes  a 
genuine  charm  over  the  aspect  of  social  life.  But  neglected,  cor 
rupted,  or  perverted,  deprived  of  the  healthful  air  of  nature,  aban 
doned  to  coarse  and  low  association,  vitiated  by  the  influence  of  false 
custom,  distorted  by  conventional  regulations,  or  tainted  by  the  im 
pure  atmosphere  of  vice,  taste  becomes  depraved,  and  morbidly  craves 
deformity  instead  of  beauty,  and  prefers  falsehood  to  truth. 
(II.)  THE  ACTUATING  PRINCIPLE,  OR  IMPELLING  FORCE,  OF  THE 
EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

FEELING  :  its  Office  in  Expression. — The  Sensibility  with  which 
the  constitution  of  man,  as  a  sentient  animal  and  as  a  self-conscious 
moral  being,  is  invested,  and  by  which  he  is  stimulated  to  action  and 
to* utterance,  may,  for  our  present  purpose,  be  defined  as  that  element 
in  his  nature,  which, — whether  manifesting  itself  in  temporary  sym 
pathy,  in  permanent  affections, — in  vivid  emotion,  or  intense 


CULTIVATION   OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  *JJ 

has,  for  its  office,  the  excitation  of  his  being.  As  the  stimulus  of  his 
constitution,  it  impels  man  to  the  function  of  expression,  as  a  result 
indispensable  to  sympathy  and  communication, — the  necessary  con 
dition  of  his  social  and  moral  life.  It  originates  in  that  sensibility  to 
pleasure  and  pain  by  which  the  Creator  has  enhanced  to  man  the 
enjoyment  and  the  value  of  his  organized  and  conscious  existence, 
and  secured  it,  at  the  same  time,  by  a  law  of  instinctive  dread,  from 
exposure  to  peril  and  to  destruction. 

Feeling,  as  an  Incitement  to  Sympathy. — The  effect  of  sensibility, 
in  this  relation,  is  three-fold ;  producing  in  man,  (1.)  a  sympathy  with 
the  conditions  and  aspects  of  the  surrounding  external  world,  whether 
pleasurable  or  painful,  attractive  or  repulsive ;  (2.)  the  mutual  sym 
pathy,  conscious  correlation,  and  consentaneous  action  of  the  two 
component  elements  of  his  constitution, — body  and  mind  ;  (3.)  a 
sympathy  with  his  fellow  men,  which  makes  him  a  partaker  of  their 
pleasures  and  pains,  causes  him  to  desire  a  return  of  their  sympathies 
to  himself,  and  consequently  leads  him  to  expression  and  communica 
tion,  as  the  means  of  exciting  and  attracting  it. 

Feeling,  as  an  Involuntary  or  Empassioned  Instigation, — The  sen 
tient  and  susceptible  nature  of  man,  his  capacity  and  his  experience 
of  pleasure  and  pain,  affected  by  causes  whether  external  or  internal 
in  their  operation,  render  him  liable  to  unconscious  and  involuntary 
excitement,  rising,  sometimes,  to  the  height  of  passion.  This  excite 
ment  manifesting  itself  in  emotion, — the  main  spring  of  expression, 
— becomes,  in  some  circumstances,  itself  a  language  sufficiently  defi 
nite,  intelligible,  and  expressive  ;  as  may  be  observed  in  the  laughter 
and  the  crying  of  the  infant,  in  the  sympathizing  countenance  of  the 
compassionate  mother,  in  the  ruffled  features  and  angry  temper  of 
impatient  youth,  in  the  ghastly  face  of  the  terrified  child,  in  the  glare 
of  the  hostile  savage,  or  in  the  glad  smiles  of  the  emancipated  school 
boy  at  his  holiday  sport. 

Feeling,  influenced  by  Imagination  and  Volition. — The  beings 
and  forms  of  his  own  ideal  world  of  imagination  and  fancy,  or  of 
creative  thought,  have  also  their  exciting  power  over  the  internal 
sense  of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  and  impel  man,  more  or  less  voluntarily, 
to  exhibit  emotion,  and  to  find  its  natural  or  customary  form  of  ex 
pression  in  the  articulate  words  of  speech, — in  the  simpler  eloquence 
of  mere  vocal  tone,  uttered  or  suppressed, — or  in  the  silent  but  more 
enduring  form  of  the  written  word. 

Influence  of  Feeling  on  the  Artist. — Even  language  itself,  however, 
in  its  most  distinct  and  definite  forms,  is  not  always  sufficiently^ ex 
pressive  for  empassioned  emotion.  The  admiration  of  grandeur  or 


72  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

beauty  may  be  strong  enough  and  deep  enough  to  demand  some 
more  palpable  and  durable  shape  in  which  to  express  itself.  The 
intense  delight  in  beauty  impels  the  Artist  to  devote  himself  to  days 
and  nights  of  toil  over  the  image  which  alone  can  satisfy  the  longing 
of  his  soul,  for  the  visible  presence  of  the  loveliness  which  his  fancy 
has  conceived  in  his  inner  world  of  life  and  form. 

On  the  Actions  of  the  Child  and  of  the  Adult. — It  is  the  untaught, 
unconscious  working  of  the  emotion -of  love  which  makes  the  child 
find  expression  for  his  sympathy  in  the  act  of  imitating  the  gait  and 
actions,  and  the  characteristic  expressions  of  those  whom  he  admires. 
Nor  does  adult  man  always  escape  the  effects  of  this  tendency,  when 
maturity  of  mind  and  habits  of  grave  research  seem  sometimes  to 
render  the  result  ridiculous. 

On  the  Actor  and  his  Audience. — The  natural  delight  in  sympathy 
and  communication,  is  the  incitement  which  impels  the  actor  on  the 
stage  to  assume  and  exhibit,  in  his  plastic  frame  and  features,  the 
agonies  of  dramatic  passion,  in  all  their  terrific  extremes,  while  he 
personates  the  ravings  of  Lear,  the  frenzy  of  Othello,  or  the  remorse 
of  Macbeth  ;  and  it  is  the  same  cause  which  attracts,  night  after  night, 
to  the  crowded  theatre,  the  audience  who  thus  acknowledge  the  force 
of  the  great  element  of  sympathy  in  human  nature,  and  the  power 
which  vivid  expression  exercises  over  the  heart,  ^}en  it  has  even  the 
well  sustained  semblance  of  coming  from  the  heart. 

On  the  Eloquence  of  the  Orator. — It  is  from  sympathy  with  the 
very  passions  which  he  delights  to  excite,  that  the  orator  devotes  his 
days  of  seclusion  and  nights  of  application  to  the  study  of  every  art 
by  which  expression  may  be  heightened  and  emotion  aroused,  when 
the  decisive  moment  is  come,  and  the  interests  of  the  state  are  at 
hazard,  and  men  are  to  feel  that  their  welfare  or  their  safety  is  to 
depend  on  adopting  the  views  of  an  eloquent  and  competent  leader. 

On  the  soul  of  the  Poet. — It  is  sympathy  with  the  highest  senti 
ments  and  emotions  of  his  race,  and  the  conscious  delight  in  giving 
these  a  noble  utterance,  that  inspires  the  poet  with  the  assurance  of 
immortality,  while  he  meditates  his  great  theme,  and  touches  and  re 
touches  his  artistic  work,  till  it  stands  forth  complete  in  the  majestic 
beauty  and  perfection  after  which  his  soul  has,  for  years,  aspired. 

Universality  of  'Feeling,  as  the  Actuating  Principle  of  Expression. — 
In  all  the  above  and  similar  instances,  the  sympathetic  feeling  which 
thirsts  for  expression,  and  impels  to  the  utterance  or  the  recording  of 
sentiment,  is  one  and  the  same.  It  may  assume  the  definiteness  and 
the  depth  of  a  personal  affection,  or  the  intensity  and  the  comparative 
excess  of  a  passion,  to  whatever  extent  the  instigation  of  feeling  may 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  73 

excite  the  sentient  agent.  But  it  is  still  the  same  element  of  sensi 
bility,  only  working  in  deeper  channels,  and  with  a  stronger  tide,  and 
therefore  doing  its  work  more  effectually  and  impressively.  In  what 
ever  form,  it  is  still  but  an  act  of  obedience  to  the  law  of  his  consti 
tution,  by  which  man,  as  a  sympathetic  being,  is  impelled  to  expres 
sion,  that  he  may  attain  to  the  power  and  the  habit  of  communica 
tion  ;  and  thus  fulfill  the  conditions  of  his  social  and  moral  nature. 

Influence  cf  Feeling  on  Moral  Character,  as  a  Form  of  Expression. — 
The  extent  to  which  the  element  of  feeling  exerts  its  power  over  ex 
pression,  and  the  degree  to  which  its  development  in  this  relation  may 
be  carried,  under  the  influence  of  educational  culture,  can  be  appro 
priately  measured  only  when  we  trace  it  to  its  effects  on  the  tenden 
cies,  the  character,  and  the  will  of  human  beings  individually,  or  in 
their  aggregations  in  society.  In  either  case,  we  see  it  in  the  gentle, 
the  peaceful,  and  affectionate  spirit  of  the  genuine  disciple  of  Him 
whom  we  reverence  as  the  "  meek  and  the  lowly,"  and  in  the  genial 
intercourse  of  communities  governed  by  the  influence  of  His  law  of 
universal  love ;  or  we  read  it  in  the  arrogance,  the  violence,  and  the 
hatred,  of  which  perverted  humanity  is  so  fatally  capable.  As  "  out 
of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh,"  the  prevalent 
emotions  and  expression,  the  manners,  and  the  habitual  language  of 
man,  in  these  opposite  conditions  of  individual  and  social  life,  will 
depict  themselves  on  character  and  action. 

Influence  of  Feeling  on  the  Character  of  Art. — In  the  visible  lan 
guage  of  graphic  art,  we  read  the  same  lesson  of  the  power  of  feeling 
as  an  element  of  expression.  We  see  it  in  the  appalling  force  with 
which  the  sculptor  has  presented  the  agony  of  pain  and  struggle,  in 
the  writhing  frame  and  contorted  features  of  Laocoon,  or  the  perfect 
placidity  and  repose  with  which  he  has  invested  the  face  and  form  of 
Antinous.  Nor  is  the  lesson  less  impressive  when  we  turn  from  the 
superhuman  fierceness  of  expression  in  attitude  and  features,  which 
characterizes  the  delineations  of  passion  and  penal  torture,  in  some  of 
the  figures  depicted  by  the  hand  of  Angelo,  to  the  serenity,  the  sanc 
tity,  and  the  unutterable  loveliness,  beaming  from  the  half-divine 
forms  in  which  innocence  or  holiness  is  pictured  by  the  pencil  of 
Raphael. 

Its  power  in  Music. — The  ear  drinks  in  the  same  lesson  of  the  power 
of  empassioned  expression,  while  it  listens  to  the  great  masters  of 
musical  art,  and  feels  the  majesty  of  its  utterance,  as  conceived  in  the 
soul  of  Handel,  and  worthily  executed  by  the  skillful  hand  of  the  ac 
complished  performer.  From  such  effects  of  sublimity  and  force  and 
solemn  grandeur,  down  to  the  breathings  of  tenderness  in  a  plaintive 
strain  of  pastoral  melody,  the  thrill,  responding  to  the  stirring  air  of 


74  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

the  soldier's  march,  or  the  wild  gayety  of  the  peasant's  dance,  we  have 
but  the  varied  forms  in  which  emotion  evinces  its  sway  over  this  most 
expressive  of  arts,  by  the  inspiration  which  it  breathes  into  its  num 
berless  moods. 

Its  Effect  on  Language. — To  the  emotive  force  of  feeling,  Lan 
guage  owes  all  its  sublimest  and  most  beautiful  forms  of  cultivated 
utterance,  whether  in  expressing  the  depth  of  affection  or  the  intensity 
of  passion;  and  the  remark  is  equally  true  of  the  literature  of  the 
elder  world  and  that  of  modern  times.  In  no  record  of  humanity  is 
the  fact  more  strikingly  exhibited  than  in  the  pages  of  the  Sacred 
volume,  where  the  heart  of  man  is  laid  open  in  all  its  workings,  in 
the  primitive  language  of  poetic  imagination  and  Divine  truth  com 
bined,  and  where  the  human  soul  pours  itself  forth  in  every  mood  ; 
now  wondering  at  the  vastness  of  the  creation,  or  adoring  the  infinite 
majesty  of  the  Creator;  now  humbled  to  the  dust,  under  the  sense  of 
man's  insignificance,  or,  in  the  tones  of  contrition  and  penitence,  im 
ploring  the  boon  of  pardon;  uttering  thanks  for  boundless  goodness 
and  mercy  ;  rejoicing  in  the  conscious  favor  of  God;  sympathizing  in 
the  gladness  and  beauty  of  nature  ;  touched  by  the  paternal  tender 
ness  and  compassion  of  Jehovah,  or  joining  in  the  denunciations  of 
"indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish,"  threatened  to  his 
enemies. 

In  all  the  uninspired  delineations  of  thought  which  have  come 
down  to  us  from  ancient  times,  it  is  the  same  pervading  element  of 
feeling  which  has  given  them  their  lasting  life  and  their  sway  over  the 
mind.  To  some  prominent  passages  of  this  character  we  have  already 
alluded  ;  and,  for  the  present,  the  allusion  must  suffice.  Nor  have  we 
time  now  to  dwell  on  corresponding  examples  drawn  from  modern 
literature,  the  peculiar  charm  of  which,  in  one  word,  is  the  power 
with  which  it  calls  forth  the  natural  emotions  of  the  heart.  In  every 
form  which  literature  assumes,  as  a  power  or  an  influence  over  the 
soul,  exerted  through  the  medium  of  expressive  language,  the  main 
spring  of  effect,  the  grand  motive  power,  is  feeling.  The  life  of  ex 
pression,  in  all  its  cultivated  forms  of  language  or  of  art,  is  emotion. 

Feeling,  under  the  Guidance  of  Education. — Recognizing  the  fact 
last  mentioned,  the  intelligent  superintendent  of  education  will  direct 
his  endeavors  to  the  due  cherishing,  strengthening,  and  developing, 
as  well  as  to  the  moulding,  guiding,  and  governing  of  this  great  ele 
ment  of  intellectual  and  moral  power.  With  his  eye  fixed  on  this 
momentous  issue,  he  will  watch  the  natural  tendency  and  direction  of 
the  instinct  whose  action  he  is  to  guide,  so  as  intelligently  to  co 
operate  with  its  spontaneous  working,  and  aid  in  the  accomplish 
ments  of  its  peculiar  office. 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  75 

The  teacher  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  or,  at  least,  so  far  as  he  is  a 
teacher  of  language,  bound  to  furnish  his  pupil  with  the  invaluable 
advantage  resulting  from  a  ready  command  of  correct  expression, 
one  of  the  surest  passports  to  usefulness  and  success  in  life.  But  the 
life-spark  of  expression  can  not  be  struck  from  a  dull  mind.  The 
latent  fire  of  feeling  must  be  kindled,  must  be  brought  to  the  surface, 
that  it  may  glow  in  the-  living  look  and  audible  tone  of  emotion,  or 
beam  forth  in  the  burning  words  of  eloquence,  whether  flowing  from 
tongue  or  pen.  The  judicious  instructor  will  resort  to  every  expe 
dient  suggested  by  the  -life  and  beauty  of  nature  and  of  art,  as  sources  of 
inspiration,  whence  corresponding  life,  and  beauty,  and  expressive  pow 
er  may  be  breathed  into  the  soul  of  his  pupil,  and  live  in  his  utterance. 

III.  THE  TENDENCY  OR  HABIT  OF  ACTION,  IN  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FAC 
ULTIES,  AS  IT  is  MANIFESTED  IN  UTTERANCE. 

Utterance  an  Instinct. — When  we  contemplate  man  as  a  being  ca 
pable  of  education,  he  may,  for  our  immediate  purpose,  be  regarded 
as  furnished  by  his  Creator,  with  what  may  be  termed  the  apparatus 
of  expression,  in  the  gift  of  the  various  faculties  which  we  have  been 
hitherto  considering.  We  perceive  him  further  provided  with  an 
adequate  motive  power,  by  which  this  apparatus  is  propelled,  in  the 
involuntary  or  voluntary  action  of  feeling.  The  indication  next  to 
be  obseived  by  the  educator,  as  the  suggestion  for  his  guidance,  in 
his  endeavors  to  cooperate  with  Nature's  tendency  to  development, 
is,  In  what  direction  does  the  action  of  the  expressive  faculties  nat 
urally  tend?  What,  in  this  instance,  is  the  instinct  of  spontaneity? 
What,  under  the  guidance  of  his  own  inward  promptings,  does  the 
child  incline  to  do  or  to  become  ?  What  habit  or  attribute  of  char 
acter  does  he  thus  acquire  ?  The  answer  furnished  by  observation,  in 
this  case,  plainly  is, — Man,  as  a  sentient,  intellectual,  and  sympathizing 
being,  acting  under  the  primary  impulse  of  instinct,  and  without  any 
interference  of  human  culture,  obviously  inclines  to  Utterance,  (throw 
ing  himself  out,)  or,  in  other  words,  to  self-revelation,  as  an  ordained 
function  of  his  nature,  verifying  and  crowning  his  intelligence,  and 
constituting  him  a  social  and  moral  being,  capable  of  progress  and 
of  culture.  He  craves  and  finds  expression,  accordingly,  in  many  and 
various  forms :  he  makes  himself  felt  and  understood,  in  some  way  or 
other,  by  his  fellows.  Under  the  guidance  of  education,  he  but 
learns  to  do  this  more  definitely  and  successfully,  through  lan 
guage  and  expressive  art.  From  a  sentient  and  intelligent,  he  devel 
ops  thus  into  a  communicative  being, — the  result,  so  far,  of  the  com 
bination  of  unconscious  and  voluntary  education,  and,  at  the  same  time, 


76  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE   FACULTIES 

the  condition  and  the  pledge  of  subsequent  intellectual  and  moral 
progress. 

Repression  a  Common  Error  of  Educational  Training. — The  at 
tentive  observation — not  to  say  the  systematic  study — of  man,  to 
which  the  educator  and  teacher  should  ever  feel  himself  bound,  as  the 
only  security  for  the  intelligent  and  successful  discharge  of  his  duties, 
suggests,  at  this  stage  of  our  subject,  the  fact,  that  a  prominent  fea 
ture  of  error,  in  the  too  prevalent  arbitrary  modes  of  education,  has 
been  the  repression  rather  than  the  development  of  the  natural  desire 
of  utterance  in  childhood. 

From  the  very  first  steps  of  his  mental  and  moral  progress,  man  is 
not  a  merely  selfish  and  receptive  being.  He  longs  to  impart  his 
feelings,  and  to  communicate  his  observations :  he  wishes  to  give,  as  well 
as  to  receive  :  he  feels  impelled  to  utter  himself  that  he  may  impart  and 
confer,  not  less  than  receive.  His  impulse,  as  a  sympathetic  one,  is 
unselfish,  generous,  noble.  When  the  child  exclaims  to  his  play 
mate  on  the  beauty  of  the  flower  which  they  see,  he  does  not  merely 
call  for  sympathy  in  the  delight  which  he  feels  :  he  would,  by  his 
instinctive  expression  of  pleasure,  suggest  and  impart  that  delight. 

Utterance,  under  the  benign  guardianship  of  Nature,  as  its  Author's 
interpreter,  is  thus,  essentially  and  substantially,  a  moral  process,  not 
less  than  a  merely  sympathetic  and  intellectual  one.  Nor,  in  educa 
tion,  shouM  it  ever  be  forgotten  that,  by  the  Creator's  ordination, 
every  utterance  of  a  feeling  or  an  emotion,  gives  it  additional  strength 
and  life ;  and  that,  obeying  the  divinely  instituted  law  of  speech  and 
communication,  we  are  aiding  in  the  process  of  building  up,  day  by 
day,  and  hour  by  hour,  the  fabric  of  human  character. 

Arbitrary  education,  however,  is,  in  no  feature  of  its  meddling 
mismanagement  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  restriction,  the  reserve, 
and  the  silence,  which  it  is  ever  so  prone  to  impose,  and  on  which  it 
is  so  apt  to  plume  itself,  with  reference  even  to  the  very  first  stages 
of  its  repellent  sway. 

The  five  years'  probationary  and  preparatory  silence  which  Pythag 
oras  is  said  to  have  exacted  of  his  disciples,  might  be  an  excellent 
discipline  for  mature  minds,  as  an  introduction  to  the  "  metaphysic 
bog  profound,"  into  which  he  meant  thereafter  to  plunge  them.  But 
one  of  the  first  and  most  urgent  wants  of  childhood  is  utterance. 
The  innocent  little  human  being  is  ever  thus  holding  out  his  petty 
link  in  the  golden  chain  which  binds  heart  to  heart,  mind  to  mind, 
and  man  to  God :  he  is  ever  ready  to  join  his  link  to  that  of  his 
neighbor.  But  the  mechanical  educationist,  with  his  "  look  at  your 
book,  and  not  at  me !"  frowns  the  infant  volunteer  back  to  his  seat, 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  ^ 

to  his  individuality,  and  his  isolation ;  and  the  chain  by  which  the 
little  petitioner  for  sympathy  and  knowledge,  might  have  been  lifted 
with  the  conjoined  force  of  the  mental  world,  is  of  no  avail  to  him  : 
his  link  of  connection  with  it  is  yet  detached.  IJis  turn  lias  not  yet 
come,  in  the  great  game  of  opportunity ;  and  he  must  bide  his  time 
as  best  he  may. 

Appropriate  Training. — Under  the  unerring  and  genial  guidance 
of  the  mother,  the  child  is  not  perpetually  immured  within  doors,  or 
confined  to  one  spot,  or  fixed  in  one  posture :  he  is  allowed,  occasion 
ally,  at  least,  to  behold  the  outward  world,  to  range  the  fields,  to 
walk  on  the  road,  to  observe  the  objects  around  him,  to  feel  their  at 
tractive  force,  to  admire  their  beauty,  to  wonder  and  to  inquire  about 
what  is  new  to  him,  to  utter  his  exclamations  of  pleasure,  to  examine, 
and  to  name  whatever  strikes  his  attention.  He  thus  enjoys  his  own 
nature  in  the  free  exercise  of  his  faculties;  he  is  consciously  progress 
ive  in  intelligence  and  in  speech,  as  in  feeling,  and,  so  far,  is  effectually 
and  successfully  preparing  to  become,  in  due  season,  eloquently  ex 
pressive. 

Disadvantages  of  City  Education. — The  worst,  perhaps,  of  all  the 
many  evils  attending  the  supposed  necessity  of  congregating  in  cities, 
and  adopting  artificial  modes  of  life,  is  one  but  little  thought  of. 
The  parent  who  relinquishes  his  rural  home  in  the  open  village  street 
or  in  the  field,  flatters  himself,  perhaps,  that  he  is  securing  better  edu 
cational  advantages  for  his  children,  when  he  takes  up  his  abode  in 
one  of  the  confined  dwellings  of  the  close-crowded  city.  He  may 
find,  by  the  exchange,  a  teacher  more  expert  in  turning  the  machin 
ery  of  instruction,  and  a  more  ample  supply  of  the  learning  to  be  had 
from  books.  But  the  nobler,  the  truly  liberal  part  of  his  child  rens' 
education,  he  has  foregone  forever.  The  free  scope,  the  pure,  bracing 
air,  the  rich  variety  of  nature, — the  healthful  influence  of  these  on 
the  growing  frame  and  the  expanding  mind,  on  the  susceptible  heart, 
on  the  plastic  imagination,  on  the  whole  soul  and  character ;  these 
are  sacrificed,  and  with  them,  the  best  capabilities  of  culture. 

Educational  Benefits  of  Rural  Life. — In  no  respect  are  the  losses 
just  mentioned  greater  than  in  regard  to  the  part  of  education  which 
we  are  now  contemplating.  To  the  child  reared  in  the  freedom  and 
the  beauty  of  nature,  everything  around  him  becomes  a  language, 
expressing  the  happiness  which  he  unconsciously  enjoys.  His  vocab 
ulary  is  furnished  in  the  forms,  the  colors,  the  life,  the  sounds  and  mo 
tion,  amid  which  he  finds  himself.  The  half-conscious  awe  which  he 
feels,  under  the  deep  s^ade  and  the  sweeping  boughs  of  the  great 
elm,  through  which  he  looks  up,  with  a  pleasing  dread  and  wonder 


fg  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACUITIEH. 

to  the  over-arching  sky,  the  beautiful  wild-flower  which  waves  and 
nods  to  him  as  he  passes,  the  brook  which  runs  bubbling  and  gur 
gling  through  the  meadow,  the  majesty  of  the  flowing  river,  the  roar 
ing  of  the  winter  wind  through  the  bare  trees,  the  whirling  of  the 
snow-flakes,  the  glittering  garment  of  the  ice-storm,  the  opening  of 
the  spring  buds,  the  fluttering  of  the  summer  leaves,  and  the  Bailing 
of  the  falling  leaf  in  autumn,  the  enlivening  voices  of  the  domestic 
animals,  the  entrancing  music  of  the  birds; — these,  and  a  thousand 
other  unpaid  teachers,  have  all  been  training  him  in  a  language  true, 
copious,  perfect,  and  inspiring, — compared  to  which,  book-learning  is 
but  as  the  dry  husk  to  the  rich  nutritious  grain. 

Genial  Culture. — To  favor  and  cherish,  not  to  check,  utterance — 
to  elicit,  not  to  repress  expression, — to  multiply,  and  deepen,  and  ex 
pand,  and  fill,  not  to  dry  up,  the  sources  and  reservoirs  of  language; — 
these  are  the  true  offices  of  education.  The  cultivation  of  the  young 
mind,  taking  a  suggestive  hint  from  the  cultivation  of  the  young  tree, 
should  allow  a  liberal  scope  of  nutrition,*of  growth  and  expansion, 
be-fore  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  pruning  knife.  A  large  part  of  early 
education  should  consist  in  conversation,  in  which  the  pupil  should 
freely  partake,  as  the  natural  means  of  acquiring  accuracy  and  ex- 
pertness,  as  well  as  freedom,  in  expression.  The  tendency  to  write 
and  to  draw,  should  have  full  scope  and  ample  encouragement.  Care 
should  be  taken  to  render  interesting  and  attractive  every  form  of 
exercise  by  which  the  student  may  ultimately  attain  to  the  free,  for 
cible,  and  correct  expression  of  thought.  To  the  various  modes  of 
securing  such  fruits  of  culture,  in  detail,  we  shall  have  occasion  to 
advert  in  the  sequel. 

IV.     RESULT  OF  THE  ACTION    OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE   FACULTIES  : — 
COMMUNICATION. 

The  Power  of  Communication. — In  the  previous  stages  of  our 
present  inquiries,  we  have  been  occupied  with  the  classification  of  the 
powers  of  expression,  their  springs  nf  action,  and  the  habitual  ten 
dency  and  direction  of  their  current,  under  the  guidance  of  unassisted 
nature  and  of  education.  The  next  step  in  the  progress  of  investiga 
tion  preliminary  and  introductory  to  the  actual  work  of  express  cul 
ture,  is  the  consideration  of  the  Results  at  which,  whether  by  the 
law  of  natural  development  or  that  of  educational  cultivation,  the 
human  being  arrives,  in  consequence  of  the  exercise  of  his  powers  of 
expression. 

The  immediate  result  of  utterance  is  Communication, — the  impar- 
tation  and  interchange  of  sympathy  or  sentiment,  by  which  man  in 
spires  his  fellow  man  with  the  same  feeling,  affection,  emotion,  passion, 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE   EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  79 

thought,  or  sentiment,  which  actuates  himself;  and  which,  as  the  cir 
cle  of  kindred  minds  is  enlarged  by  the  aggregation  of  numbers,  ex 
tends  his  personal  mood  or  mental  condition  throughout  the  sphere 
of  the  community  of  which  he  is  a  member. 

Intellectual  and  Moral  Effects  of  Communication. — The  views, 
the  will,  and  the  power  of  an  individual,  acquire,  through  communi 
cation,  an  ascendency,  it  may  be,  over  a  nation,  or  even  over  the 
whole  civilized  race,  for  successive  ages;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  intellectual  acquisitions,  the  moral  and  spiritual  attainments,  the 
sympathies  and  the  accumulated  resources  of  nations  and  of  ages, 
may  be  brought  to  the  aid  of  the  individual,  through  the  magic 
power  of  language. 

For  good  or  for  evil,  man's  power  of  communication  with  his  fel 
lows,  gives  to  the  aggregated  multitudes  of  a  whole  people,  or  even 
of  the  race,  the  unity  of  purpose,  the  singleness  of  aim,  the  direct 
ness,  the  personal  efficiency,  the  ease  and  the  certainty  of  action  of  a 
single  agent;  while  it  equally  arms  the  individual  with  the  intellect 
ual,  the  physical,  and  the  moral  force  of  millions.  The  sage,  the 
orator,  the  poet,  the  artist,  the  statesman,  the  warrior,  thus  become 
the  recognized  representatives  of  a  people  or  of  mankind,  to  whom 
communities  and  nations  bow  in  submission  or  in  homage,  and  to 
whose  ascendant  genius  they  render  the  tribute  of  heart  and  hand, 
of  treasure,  or  of  life.  Thus,  too,  the  youth,  in  his  studious  endeav 
ors  to  advance  his  intellectual  and  moral  condition,  has  the  aid  arising 
from  the  experience,  the  counsels,  the  guidance,  and  the  sympathies 
of  the  intelligent  and  the  virtuous  of  every  age  and  nation  which 
possesses  an  accessible  record  of  its  progress ;  and  the  student  whose 
days  have  been  spent  in  strictest  seclusion  and  unremitting  investiga 
tion,  enjoys  the  assurance  that  the  fruits  of  his  solitary  research  and 
strenuous  application  shall  be  gathered  not  by  himself  alone,  but  by 
whatever  enlightened  and  sympathizing  minds,  throughout  the 
world,  and  in  all  subsequent  time,  shall  come  within  his  sphere  of 
communication  by  living  voice  or  written  word. 

Value  of  Communication. — Communication,  as  the  boon  of  lan 
guage,  is  not  to  be  measured  by  its  immediate  results  merely,  as  a 
telegraphic  convenience  for  the  impartation  of  feeling  or  the  convey 
ance  of  thought, — great  as  its  uses,  in  this  relation,  are  to  the  whole 
race.  Language  is  the  vehicle  of  all  knowledge.  Like  the  noble 
ship,  costly  and  valuable  in  itself,  but  yet  more  valuable  in  the  treas 
ure  with  which  it  is  fraught,  it  comes  laden  with  the  accumulations 
of  countless  minds  and  boundless  wealth.  To  measure  its  full  value, 
we  should  have  to  compute  the  number  and  the  worth  of  every 


80  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

acquisition  which  the  mind  has  garnered  up  in  the  records  of  every 
department  of  science  and  literature,  and  thus  rendered  capable  of 
conveyance  from  man  to  man,  and  from  generation  to  generation, 
throughout  the  world. 

O 

V.     EDUCATIONAL  PROCESSES  FOR  THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  Ex- 
•  PRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

These  may  be  classed  under  the  following  heads:  The  Attentive 
Observation  and  the  Love  of  Nature  ;  the  Study  and  the  Practice  of 
Art;  the  Study  of  Language;  the  Practice  of  Exercises  in  Oral  and 
Written  Expression. 

OMISSIONS  AND  DEFECTS  IN  MODES  OF  CULTURE. — Language. 
— The  plan  of  education  generally  adopted  for  the  exercise  and  disci 
pline  of  the  expressive  faculties,  indicates  little  philosophical  design, 
logical  consistency,  generous  spirit,  or  liberal  scope,  in  the  course 
which  it  prescribes.  It  is  founded  on  views  too  narrow  and  exclu 
sive ;  and  its  execution  has  been  too  mechanical.  The  mother's  and 
the  teacher's  eye  has  been  fastened  too  exclusively  on  the  facts  of 
language  alone,  as  so  many  detached  points  to  be  mastered  in  detail. 
Hence  the  injury  sometimes  done  to  the  organs  of  speech,  by  prema 
ture  attempts  to  conquer  some  of  the  difficulties  of  articulation,  in  the 
mother's  zeal  for  the  precocious  development  of  the  faculties  of  her 
child;  and  hence,  also,  the  mechanical  and  arbitrary  processes  of 
alphabetic  training,  in  its  customary  forms.  The  eager  desire  for  im 
mediate  definite  results,  has  caused  the  teacher,  too  generally,  to  over 
look  the  great  facts  that  language  is  but  one  of  the  forms  in  which 
the  expressive  faculties  are  exerted,  or  in  which  expressive  power  is 
to  be  developed,  and  that  the  successful  cultivation  of  language  is  in 
separable  from  due  exercise  in  all  the  kindred  forms  of  expression  to 
which  the  mind  naturally  tends. 

The  general  plan  of  education  is  limited  to  instruction  and  prac 
tice  in  the  oral  and  written  forms  of  language,  in  the  school  rou 
tine  of  reading  and  grammar,  and  what  is  termed  composition. 
The  forms  of  exercise  and  the  methods  of  training,  also,  in  these  de 
partments  of  education,  have  too  generally  been  literal  and  mechan 
ical  ;  and  the  poverty  and  imperfection  of  the  results  have  b.etrayed 
the  defects  of  the  plan  which  prescribed  them. 

Methods  to>)  exclusively  Passive  and  Receptive. — The  groat  im 
portance  of  a  full  and  generous  development  of  the  whole  mental  con 
stitution,  as  indispensable  to  the  right  action  of  any  of  its  element*, 
having  been  overlooked  in  the  plan  of  education,  due  allowance  has 
too  seldom  been  made,  in  the  training  of  the  mind,  for  the  adequate 
exercise  and  discipline  of  the  active  nature  and  of  the  expressive 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTES.  3^ 

powers  of  the  human  being.  The  general  prescription  of  the  pro 
cesses  of  instruction,  has  evidently  been  directed  to  the  receptive  ac 
tion  of  the  understanding  and  the  imple.tlng  of  the  memory.  The 
mind  of  the  pupil  has  been  too  uniformly  kept  in  a  comparatively 
passive  condition.  He  has  not  been  permitted  and  invited  to  use  suf 
ficiently  even  those  materials  of  expression  which  he  has,  from  the 
earliest  steps  of  his  progress,  in  the  routine  of  education,  been  so 
laboriously  employed  in  accumulating.  Expression,  neglected  in 
early  training,  becomes  difficult  in  later  stages;  and  conscious  failure 
incurred  in  attempting  it,  renders  it  distasteful.  Effort,  under  such 
circumstances,  is  reluctantly  made,  frequently  intermitted,  and  ere 
long  discontinued. 

Neglect  of  our  own  Language. — N"o  remark* is  more  common 
or  more  true,  than  that  even  our  highest  and  best  courses  of  cul 
ture  do  not  result  in  furnishing  accomplished  men,  as  regards  the 
actual  use,  in  speech  or  writing,  of  our  own  language.  Ample  time, 
comparatively,  is  usually  allowed  for  the  study  of  the  ancient  lan 
guages,  and  even  for  that  of  some  of  the  modern  ;  but  little  is  ex 
pressly  assigned  for  the  thorough  acquisition  of  our  own,  which,  to 
ensure  to  the  student  a  perfect  command  of  it,  should  be  the  ground 
work  of  daily  exercises,  thoughtfully  planned  and  carefully  executed? 
from  the  first  steps  in  education  onward  to  the  last  day  of  professional 
preparation  for  the  business  of  life. 

Faults  of  Unconscious  Teaching. — Some  of  the  many  causes  of 
imperfect  teaching,  in  the  department  of  language,  may  be  found  in 
the  fact,  that  the  true  nature  and  actual  character  of  early  training 
are  not  recognized  by  those  whose  office  it  is  to  superintend  the  first 
steps  of  childhood  in  the  path  of  development.  The  mother  and  the 
primary  teacher  too  often  overlook  the  vast  influence  of  example, 
which,  to  the  imitative  nature  of  childhood,  always  becomes  a  model. 
Hence  the  imperfect  articulation,  incorrect  pronunciation,  mechanical 
monotony,  and  lifeless  tone,  which  are  so  generally  prevalent  in 
school  reading.  These  faults  are,  too  often,  faithful  copies  of  the 
stvle  which  the  ear  of  the  young  learner  has  unconsciously  caught 
from  his  mother,  his  teacher,  or  his  class-mates,  and  which  habit 
rivets  on  his  vo:c-°,  for  life. 

Error  in  Alphabetic  Instruction. — The  mechanical  manner  in 
which  the  child's  first  lessons  in  reading  are  sometimes  conducted, 
is  another  cause  of  failure,  in  the  department  of  instruction  to  which 
we  now  refer.  In  many  schools,  the  young  pupil  never  has  his  at 
tention  called,  definitely  or  consciously,  to  the  fact  that  the  letters  of 
the  alphabet  are  phonetic  characters,  the  whole  value  of  which  con- 

1  F 


82  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE   FACULTIES. 

sists  in  the  sounds  which  they  represent :  in  many,  lie  may  pass 
through  the  whole  course  of  instruction  without  being  once  called  to 
practice  the  constituent  elementary  sounds  of  his  own  language :  in 
very  many,  there  is  no  attempt  made  to  exercise  and  develop,  modify, 
or  cultivate,  in  any  form,  the  voice  itself.  Hence  the  prevalence  of 
the  errors  which  have  been  already  mentioned  as  fruits  of  uncon 
scious  imitation,  and  which  careful,  early  cultivation  can  alone  pre 
vent. 

Neglect  of  the  Meaning  of  Words. — An  obvious  defect  in  preva 
lent  modes  of  education,  as  regards  adequate  preparation  for  the  free 
and  correct  use  of  our  native  language,  is  the  yet  too  common  neg 
lect  of  early  and^progressive  etymological  training  in  the  analysis  of 
words,  and  the  tracing  of  the  significant  value  of  their  component 
syllables,  so  as  to  ascertain  and  fix  in  the  mind  their  exact  meaning 
and  full*  power,  and  to  follow  their  transitions  from  a  primary  to  a 
secondary  sense,  or  from  one  which  is  figurative  and  imaginative  to 
one  which  is  purely  intellectual  or  merely  practical.  It  is  such  inti 
mate  knowledge,  and  such  only, — the  fruit  of  daily  exercise  and  careful 
training, — that  can  give,  at  length,  to  the  mature  scholar,  or  the  pro 
fessional  speaker,  that  mastery  of  words,  which  now  so  often,  when 
almost  too  late,  he  feels  that  he  needs  for  the  full  and  perfect  express 
ion  of  his  thoughts. 

Defective  Forms  of  Reading  Exercises. — A  common  and  marked 
failure  of  education,  as  regards  the  course  of  instruction  in  reading, 
is  partly  attributable  to  the  cause  last  mentioned, — the  unintelligent 
enunciation  of  words, — but  largely,  also,  to  the  mechanical  perusal  and 
unmeaning  pronunciation  of  sentences,  as  merely  so  many  successions  of 
audible  sounds.  Such  exercises  deaden  rather  than  enliven  the  powers 
of  expression,  as  they  blunt  rather  than  sharpen  the  understanding,  for 
the  intelligent  conception  of  meaning.  Yet,  in  not  a  few  schools  is  it 
the  fact,  that  even  quite  young  pupils  are  never  asked,  in  performing  a 
reading  exercise,  to  point  out,  previous  to  the  pronouncing  of  a  sen 
tence,  those  words  in  it  which  are  most  significant  or  expressive,  and 
accordingly  require  that  special  force  or  turn  of  utterance,  which 
alone  can  render  them  emphatic,  so  as  to  convey  their  full  sense,  or 
bring  out  the  whole  sentiment  which  the  sentence  was  framed  to  ex 
press.  A  similar  neglect  is  too  prevalent  as  regards  the  effect  of 
proper  pauses  in  reading,  which  should  always  suggest  to  the  ear  an 
intelligent  analysis  of  a  sentence  into  its  constituent  portions  of  sense, 
not,  as  is  very  frequently  the  case,  a  mechanical  analysis,  servilely 
following  the  grammatical  punctuation  with  measured  uniformity  of 
utteranc'1,  whatever  be  the  depth  of  thought,  or  the  force  of  feeling, 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  §3 

implied  in  the  language  of  the  composition.  As  the  syntactical  punc 
tuation,  although  it  may  often  coincide  with  the  expressive  and  signifi 
cant  rhetorical  pausing,  does  not  necessarily  dp  so,  but,  on  the  con 
trary,  is  sometimes  directly  at  variance  with  it,  the  effect  of  uniformly 
following  the  points,  must,  in  such  cases,  be  a  positive  hindrance  rath 
er  than  a  help  to  intelligible  or  appropriate  reading,  as  an  exercise 
of  voice.  The  utterance  of  the  common  phrases,  "Yes,  sir,"  or  "No, 
sir,"  will  furnish  sufficient  illustration  here.  The  comma  preceding 
the  word  u  sir,"  is  due  to  the  eye,  oft  the  score  of  syntax,  but  not  to 
the  ear  or  the  voice,  on  that  of  sense. 

It  is  in  the  audible  reading  of  poetry,  however,  that  the  defects  of 
current  education  are  most  strikingly  exhibited,  as  regards  the  disci 
pline  of  the  expressive  faculties.  Poetry,  as  the  language  of  imag 
ination  and  feeling,  speaking  to  the  heart,  properly  requires  a  mode 
of  reading  obviously  quite  different  from  that  of  the  usual  forms  of 
plain  didactic  prose,  addressed  to  the  understanding  merely.  The 
word-pictures  of  the  poet  paint  their  imagery  on  the  imagination  ;  the 
intellect  interprets  their  forms ;  the  heart  beats  in  response  to  the 
graphic  delineation ;  and  the  voice  gives  expression  to  a  correspon 
dent  melody  of  tone,  while  it  utters  the  words  of  the  verse.  To  read 
poetry  aright,  therefore,  implies  the  poet's  inspiration,  imparted  to 
the  soul  and  voice  of  the  reader, — an  exalted  state  of  imagination,  a 
sympathetic  vividness  of  feeling,  unconscious  quickness  and  acutencss 
of  intellectual  conception,  a  plastic  voice  and  expressive  tone.  An 
appropriate  course  of  preparatory  discipline  of  feeling  and  imagina 
tion,  is  obviously,  then,  as  indispensable  to  poetic  utterance,  as  the 
right  understanding  of  the  intellectual  sense  of  a  sentence,  is  to  the 
ordinary  reading  of  prose.  For  this  purpose,  every  grand  or  beauti 
ful  form  of  nature  or  of  expressive  art  to  which  he  can  resort,  with  a 
view^to  give  susceptibility  to  feeling  and  imagination  or  pleasure  to 
taste,  now  becomes,  in  the  hands  of  the  intelligent  teacher,  an  instru 
ment  of  power,  to  aid  him  in  the  processes  of  culture.  Now  is  the 
time  when  he  feels  how  deeply  he  must  ever  be  indebted  to  the  vivi 
fying  influence  of  music,  painting,  and  sculpture,  and  every  chaste 
form  of  decorative  art,  as  the  effective  means  of  opening  the  eye  of 
the  soul  to  the  vision  of  grandeur  or  of  beauty,  firing  the  heart  with 
the  ardor  of  inspiration,  touching  it  with  the  sense  of  tenderness 
and  love,  and  refining  the  taste  by  the  display  of  true  elegance  and 
grace. 

The  dry,  prosaic,  lifeless  style  in  which  poetry  is  too  generally  read 
in  our  schools,  is  more  injurious  than  beneficial,  not  merely  to  the  fac 
ulties  more  immediately  concerned  in  the  conception  or  utterance  of 


g4  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

poetic  composition,  but  to  the  action  and  influence  of  all  those  pow 
ers,  mental  and  moral,  which  tend  to  elevate  and  refine  the  soul,  and 
mould  the  character  to  the  highest  forms  of  excellence.  There  is 
something  akin  to  the  barrenness  of  spirit  with  which  the  sceptic  pe 
ruses  a  page  of  sacred  scripture,  in  the  utterly  mechanical  manner  in 
which  the  well-drilled  pupil  in  mathematics  or  in  grammar,  is  some 
times  permitted  to  read  strains  of  the  purest  poetry,  embodying  the 
sublimest  sentiments,  and  calling  for  tones  of  the  deepest  and  most 
vivid  emotion,  or  even  of  the  m»st  exalted  passion. 

The  general  neglect  of  appropriate  means  for  cherishing  sensibility 
and  cultivating  taste,  in  the  relation  now  referred  to,  is  the  more  to 
be  regretted  that  it  prevails  most  in  that  form  of  education  and  in 
that  class  of  schools  in  which  it  tells  with  the  deepest  effect : — I  refer 
to  our  common  modes  of  mental  cultivation,  and  to  those  seminaries 
in  which  the  mass  of  our  people  are  trained.  The  recuperative  influ 
ences  of  classical  culture,  in  our  higher  literary  institutions,  does 
something  to  redeem,  in  this  respect,  the  omissions  and  the  defects  of 
earlier  training.  But  it  is  much  to  be  feared  that,  even  in  our  boast 
ed  New  England  education,  as  generally  conducted,  the  young  who 
are  to  receive  no  such  remedial  aid  for  disproportioned  and  defective 
cultivation,  close  their  school  course  without  the  benefit  of  a  single 
effort,  on  the  part  of  instructors,  to  render  their  pupils  capable  of  ap 
preciating  or"  ex  pressing  the  sentiments  embodied  in  the  best  passages 
of  our  own  literature  and  that  of  the  parent  laud, — a  literature  which 
contains  confessedly  more  of  the  inspiring  elements  of  pure  morality 
and  noble  character,  as  well  as  genuine  beauty,  than  any  that  has  yet 
appeared  on  earth ;  not  excepting  even  the  model  langunges  of 
classic  antiquity. 

Instruction  in  Grammar. — It  is  but  of  late  that  those  who  pre 
scribe  the  forms  of  education  or  the  modes  of  instruction,  have  fur 
nished  the  working  teacher  with  the  means  of  rational  and  philosophic 
training  for  his  pupils,  in  another  department  of  culture  professedly 
occupied  with  the  discipline  of  the  expressive  faculties,  but,  in  past 
years,  so  formally  conducted,  for  the  most  part,  as  to  embarrass  and 
retard  rather  than  aid  the  progress  of  development.  A  great  change, 
unquestionably,  has  taken  place  in  the  character  of  text- books  on 
Grammar;  and  in  this  branch  of  instruction  we  have  recently  been 
provided  with  valuable  facilities  for  improvement,  in  several  excellent 
treatises,  well  suited  to  the  true  uses  of  a  text-book, — not  a  synthetic 
synopsis  of  the  science  as  it  lies  in  the  mind  of  the  consummate  gram 
marian,  but  a  gradually  progressive  and  practical  presentation  of  the 
subject,  from  its  simplest  elements  upward,  in  a  course,  at  the  sam« 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  85 

time,  so  strictly  logical,  that  every  step  leads,  by  a  law  of  thought,  to 
another,  and  so  thoroughly  practical,  that, — to  use  the  not  inapt 
expression  of  a  German  instructor  visiting  one  of  our  American 
schools, — the  pupil  is  made,  at  every  step,  to  "  experience  grammar." 

Defective  Methods. — Still,  too  many  of  our  teachers  cling  to  the 
narrow  practice  of  following,  in  every  grammar  lesson,  the  order  of  a 
synthetic  text-book,  in  which  the  subject  is  admirably  arranged  for  a 
systematic  and  philosophic  review  of  the  science,  but  by  no  means 
for  the  successive  steps  of  progress  to  the  young  mind  commencing 
the  study  of  it.  The  method  of  such  text-books  is  precisely  that 
which  must  be  inverted  in  all  true,  living,  oral  instruction,  or  in  any 
rational  attempt  to  introduce  a  learner  to  a  knowledge  of  the  subject, 
and  to  guide  him  in  his  first  endeavors  to  reduce  it  to  practice  in  illus 
trative  forms  of  exercise.  The  logic  of  instruction  requires  that  the 
whole  science  of  grammar  should  be  first  subjected  to  a  rigorous  an- 
alysis  in  the  teacher's  own  mind,  that  its  elements  may  be  exhibited 
individually  and  successively  to  that  of  the  pupil,  and  so  become  the 
groundwork  of  his  inductive  and  intelligent  progress  from  the  recog 
nition  of  facts  to  that  of  principles  and  laws.  The  practical  part  of 
the  instructor's  business,  requires,  in  this,  as  in  all  other  branches,  a 
strict  compliance  with  the  rule  of  presenting  one  element  only  at  a 
time,'  but  in  such  succession  as  to  develop  the  whole  subject  in  easy 
steps  of  connected  progress, — each  perfectly  understood  and  thor 
oughly  exemplified  ;  nothing  assumed,  but  everything  proved  ;  noth 
ing  merely  defined  without  being  reduced  to  practice. 

The  Practice  of  Composition. — Till  very  recently,  in  comparison, 
no  branch  of  education  connected  so  immediately  with  the  discipline 
of  the  expressive  faculties,  has  been  more  faultily  conducted  than 
this.  Without  waiting  for  the  development  and  efficient  action  of 
the  reflective  faculties,  or  the  power  of  abstract  conception  and  gen 
eral  thought,  the  teacher,  when  he  has  conducted  his  pupils  through 
a  very  imperfect  course  of  grammar  and  mechanical  "parsing,"  ancl, 
perhaps,  a  little  technical  rhetoric,  proceeds  to  prescribe  a  task  in  coin- 
position,  on  some  general  theme  requiring  the  thoughts  of  a  mature 
and  capacious  mind,  besides  the  command  of  a  skillful  pen,  for  its 
proper  treatment. 

Results  of  Defective  Methods  of  Teaching. — Called  thus,  without 
means,  to  perform  a  task  which  leads  him  entirely  away  from  the  re 
gion  in  which  his  mind  naturally  and  habitually  works,  — the  concrete 
world  of  actual  observation  and  of  clear  conception  or  conscious  feel 
ing, — the  pupil  finds  himself  unable  to  do  what  is  required  of  him  as 
a  personal  effort.  In  these  circumstances,  if  he  does  not  actually 


86  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

shirk  the  task  imposed  on  him,  he  has  no  resort  but  to  repeat  the 
commonplace  thoughts  and  sayings  of  others,  in  which  he  feels  no 
interest,  and  which,  to  his  consciousness,  have  no  truth.  The  precious 
moments  of  youth  are  thus  worse  than  wasted ;  the  expressive  facul 
ties  are  withered  and  dried  up;  and  education,  thus  misdirected, 
destroys  the  powers  which  it  was  employed  to  cherish. 

Advantages  of  Seasonable  Training. — Teachers  who  take  the  pains 
to  observe  well,  know  that  there  is  a  stage  in  the  life  of  childhood, 
when  expression  is  a  spontaneous  tendency  and  a  delight, — when  to 
construct  a  sentence  on  his  slate,  or  pencil  a  little  note  on  paper,  is  to 
the  miniature  "  ambitious  student,''  a  conscious  achievement  and  a 
triumph  of  power.  Then  is  the  happy  moment  for  beginning  the 
work  of  practice,  which,  if  neglected  at  that  stage,  will  never  be 
easily,  naturally,  or  effectively  done  afterward.  The  attempt  may  be 
made  at  a  later  period,  under  the  influence  of  a  sense  of  duty,  or  a 
feeling  of  shame,  or  the  consciousness  of  compulsion.  But,  by  this  time, 
the  plastic  suppleness  and  pliancy  of  the  mind  is  gone;  and  the  whole 
endeavor  proves  an  affair  of  difficulty  and  dislike.  The  teacher's  pol 
icy  is  never  to  let  the  moment  come  when  composition,  whether  in 
the  form  of  note  or  letter,  or  narrative,  or  description,  is  felt  to  be 
anything  else  than  a  pleasure  and  a  privilege.  The  expression  of  sen 
timent,  and  the  argument  for  an  opinion,  will  then,  become  as  easy, 
as  natural,  and  as  pleasurable  employment,  as  the  first  steps  of  con 
scious  progress,  in  the  penning  of  a  juvenile  note  or  letter. 

Rhetoric. — The  great  defect  in  conducting  this  branch  of  educa 
tion, — a  defect  which  is  still  very  prevalent, — consists  in  the  fact  that 
the  study  of  it  is  so  much  a  mutter  of  theoretic  speculation  on  prin 
ciples  of  taste,  or  is  limited  to  the  mere  committing  of  rules  to  mem 
ory.  Rhetoric,  to  become  a  useful  branch  of  modern  education, 
should  embrace  a  gradually  progressive  course  of  exercises,  embody 
ing  successively  the  facts  of  language,  in  the  use  of  words  and  the 
construction  of  sentences ;  it  should  include  the  practice  of  daily 
writing,  for  successive  years;  frequent  exercises  in  the  logical  arrang 
ing  of  thought  for  the  purposes  of  expression,  and  the  adapting  of 
the  forms  and  character  of  expression"  to  thought;  and  it  should  be 
accompanied  by  the  close  study  and  critical  analysis  of  the  works  of 
distinguished  writers,  with  a  view  to  acquire  a  perfect  mastery  over 
every  form  of  style. 

Elocution :  Jfrrors  in  Modes  of  Instruction. — Few  branches  of 
education  are  so  little  understood  or  rightly  practiced  as  this.  We 
have,  in  our  current  modes  of  instruction,  little  choice  between  the 
faults  of  style  arising  from  what  the  indolent  incline  to  term  "a 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE   EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  87 

generous  neglect,"  through  fear  of  "  spoiling  "  what  they  claim  as 
44  nature,"  and  those  faults,  on  the  other  hand,  which  are  attributable 
to  literal  and  mechanical  modes  of  cultivation,  and  consist  in  the  ob 
trusion  of  arbitrary  details  and  artificial  forms.  Hence  the  results 
which'  characterize  the  one,  in  the  gross  errors  of  slovenly  and  low 
habit,  coarse  and  disgusting  manner,  uncouth  effect,  bawling  vehe 
mence,  and  gesticulating  violence,  of  what  is  sometimes  dignified 
\vith  the  name  of  "popular  oratory  ;"  and  hence  the  opposite  traits  of 
finical  taste,  affected  elegance,  false  refinement,  and  studied  contri 
vances  of  effect,  which  belong  to  perverted  culture. 

Errors  in  Theory. — With  the  advocates  of  neglect,  the  true  teach 
er,  as  a  believer  in  the  value  of  cultivation,  can  have  little  sympathy, 
further  than  in  the  condemnation  of  false  and  artificial  manner.  Neg 
lect  of  culture,  he  knows  well,  produces,  in  regard  to  all  expressive 
art,  the  same  obvious  faults  of  rawness  and  inappropriateness,  awk 
wardness  and  error.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  however,  that  the 
language  of  some  eminent  writers,  in  their  anxiety  to  protest  against 
the  errors  of  mechanical  and  literal  training,  gives  countenance  to 
the  claims  of  ignorance  on  this  subject,  and  seems  to  sanction  the 
utter  neglect  of  cultivation.  Prominent  among  these  it  is  to  be  re 
gretted  that  we  find  an  authority  otherwise  so  justly  eminent  as  Dr. 
\Vhately,  whose  own  brilliant  talents  and  ready  power  of  expression, 
while  they  tend  to  give  him  an  ascendency  over  the  minds  of  stu 
dents  and  teachers,  are  perhaps  the  very  circumstances  which  dis 
qualify  him  to  form  a  true  judgment  on  the  modes  of  cultivation 
best  adapted  to  the  great  majority  of  minds  which  fall  uncVer  the  care 
of  the  teacher,  in  the  common  routine  of  education.  The  error, — if 
one  may  be  pardoned  the  term, — by  which  ingenious  minds  are,  on 
this  subject  sometimes  entirely  misled  by  superficial  observation  and 
hasty  conclusions,  is  that  of  overlooking  the  great  fact  that,  in  the 
cultivation  of  any  branch  of  expressive  art,  education  is  properly 
charged  with  a  double  duty, — that  of  aiding,  by  every  favoring  influ 
ence,  the  inward  power  of  conception,  and  that  of  watching  over  the 
outward  form  of  expression.  In  the  former  function,  education  is 
spiritual,  genial,  inspiring,  intellectual,  in  its  suggestions  :  in  the  latter, 
its  office  is  formative  and  exterior ;  it  watches,  with  the  nicety  of  a 
musician's  ear  and  a  painter's  eye,  over  every  point  of  detail,  and  as 
siduously  trains  every  organ  of  the  pupil  to  exactness,  as  the  law  of 
truth,  extending  to  the  minutest  effect  of  vocal  utterance  and  visible 
action.  True  culture,  in  this  relation,  aims  at  a  perfect  result,  and 
descends,  therefore,  to  the  moulding  of  every  detail. 

The  necessary  Union  of  Theory  and  Practice  in  Teaching. — It  is 


83  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

a  great  error  to  suppose  that,  in  doing  its  practical  work,  education 
must  do  it  in  a  narrow  and  servile  spirit,  or  in  a  merely  mechanical 
form.  Genuine  instruction,  in  its  minutest  direction,  recognizes  and 
impresses  a  principle  which  prompts  the  preference  of  one  form  of 
expression  to  another;  and  it  takes  care  to  deepen  the  impression  of 
the  principle  by  means  of  the  associated  art  in  practice.  Faithful 
teaching  must  always  extend  to  details.  There  is  no  slighting  or 
slovening  in  its  work.  The  difference  between  true  and  false  instruc 
tion,  in  all  art,  is  simply  this:  the  former  in  prescribing  a  rule,  refers 
to  the  parent  principle  from  which  it  is  derived,  and  thus  makes 
instruction  logical ;  the  latter  lays  down  the  rule  as  a  detached  and 
arbitrary  fact  of  mere  inculcation,  and  thus  renders  instruction  em 
pirical  and  mechanical.  The  skillful  teacher  knows  how,  in  inculca 
ting  the  closest  application  to  detail,  to  keep  the  mind  intent  on  the 
principle  which  suggests  it.  No  error  in  educational  training  can  be 
greater  than  that  of  shrinking  from  or  shunning  particulars,  under 
the  pi  -a  <>f  generalising.  In  all  matters  of  expressive  art,  principle 
must  be  developed  and  applied  in  practice. 

Necessity  of  Detail. — The  right  expression  of  a  sentiment  by 
voice  and  action,  like  every  other  external  act  of  mind  ami  organ, 
has  necessarily  a  mode  /and  a  form,  coextensive  with  the  words  in 
which  it  is  embodied  ;  and  neither  teacher  nor  student  can  afford  to 
dispense  with  one  element  of  the  true  effect.  The  attention,  there 
fore,  must  be  directed  to  the  study  and  observation,  "  analytically,  of 
the  emphasis,  tones,  pauses,  <fcc.,"  unless  we  arc  willing  to  neglect  the 
proper  effect  of  these  on  speech.  If  we  can  not  communicate  senti 
ment  without  a  due  observance  of  these,  they  must  evidently  be 
studied,  more  or  less,  according  to  their  value  and  importance  ;  and 
the  very  office  of  instruction  is,  in  all  such  cases,  patiently  to  descend 
to  the  study  and  practice  of  detail. 

Yet  Dr.  "VYhately,  in  his  Elements  of  Rhetoric,  asserts  that  the  an 
alytic  study  of  detail,  in  such  matters,  "  must  vitiate  every  system 
of  instruction  founded  upon  it."  For  this  conclusion,  fortunately, 
however,  he  gives  no  reason  but  what  is  contained  in  the  brief  phrase, 
"according  to  my  views,"  and  adds,  further,  the  saving  clause,  "  if 
those  views  be  correct.''  A  true  and  efficient  friend  of  education,  in 
other  respects,  thus  sides  with  the  opponents  of  culture,  by  speaking 
from  the  preferences  of  personal  taste  and  arbitrary  opinion,  instead 
of  the  laws  of  analogy  and  universal  truth. 

In  most  Anglo-Saxon  communities,  the  teacher  of  elocution  re 
ceives  his  pupils  encrusted, — one  might  say, — with  the  errors  of  neg 
lected  or  corrupted  habit,  unconsciously  contracted  from  the  current 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  gg 

faults  of  his  home,  his  early  school,  the  street,  the  local  style  of  his 
vicinity,  or  that  of  some  popular  public  speaker.  Tne  eradication  of 
these  errors  is  obviously  the  first  duty  of  an  instructor.  But,  accor 
ding  to  the  views  of  Dr.  Whately,  the  instructor  must  not  put  forth 
his  hand  to  touch  such  faults;  for  this  could  not  be  done  without 
incurring  the  evil  of  entering  into  "  analytic  details  of  emphasis,  tones, 
pauses,  &c."  The  fabric  of  education,  in  this  as  in  all  other  depart 
ments,  resembles  the  well  constructed  edifice,  liberally  and  scientific 
ally  planned,  symmetrically  proportioned,  and  thoroughly  finished  in 
detail.  The  outside  observers  of  the  processes  of  instruction,—— 
among  whom  Dr.  Whately,  for  the  time,  takes  his  position, — are 
quite  willing  that  the  intellectual  structure  should  be  a  goodly  man 
sion,  on  the  whole,  but  insist  on  the  notion  that  it  shall,  be  built 
without  any  detail  of  wood,  stone,  or  brick,  in  particular. 

"Natural  Advantages" — In  the  act  of  utterance,  the  glance  of  gen 
ius  may  suffice,  at  times,  for  the  intuitive  recognition  of  a  principle ; 
and  the  empassioned  impulse  of  artistic  temperament,  may  prompt  to 
instantaneous  and  perfect  expression.  The  possessor  of  such  attri 
butes  may,  on  exciting  occasions,  dispense  with  reflective  thought  and 
studious  application  as  securities  for  success  in  utterance.  But  the 
majority  of  mankind,  whether  in  youth  or  maturity,  consciously  and 
habitually  need  all  the  aids  of  analysis  and  study,  and  are  successful 
in  proportion  to  the  closeness  of  their  application  and  the  thorough 
ness  of  their  practice.  The  aid,  in  such  circumstances,  to  be  render 
ed  by  the  intelligent  and  faithful  teacher,  is  precisely  that  work  of  de 
tail  to  which  Dr.  Whately  objects.  The  student,  through  inadverten 
cy,  overlooks,  for  example,  the  true  and  appropriate  manner  of  express 
ion  in  solemn  emotion  ;  and,  in  the  utterance  of  a  passage  of  that 
character,  runs  on, .through  the  influence  of  neglected  habit,  in  a  high, 
loud,  and  rapid  voice.  Here,  the  mechanical  teacher  will,  of  course, 
rectify  the  error,  for  the  moment,  by  merely  exemplifying  the  proper 
style,  and  making  the  pupil  repeat  in  imitation  of  the  model,  but 
with  no  explanation,  and  with  no  reference  of  any  point  to  a  fixed 
principle  which  might  be  a  guide  in  future  practice.  The  true  teacher, 
— who  never  can  rest  satisfied  with  anything  merely  mimetic  or  par 
rot-like, — when  he  indicates  errors,  endeavors  to  correct  them  by  re 
ferring  his  pupil  to  the  principle  from  which  they  deviate.  lie  inter 
rogates  him  in  this  case  as  to  the  true  and  natural  style  of  voice  in 
which  solemn  emotion  is  uttered,  and  directs  his  attention  successively 
to  the  facts  that  it  is  characterized  by  tones  which  are  compara 
tively  low,  soft,  and  slow, — as  heard  in  the  natural  and  appropriate 
utterance  of  devotional  feeling.  Teacher  and  pupil  have  thus  a  den* 


00  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

nlte  aim  and  an  intelligent  course  before  them  in  the  reiterated  prac 
tice  which  may  be  required  for  the  correction  of  error,  and  a  guiding 
light  to  direct  them  in  all  similar  difficulties  which  may  occur  in  sub 
sequent  exercises.  In  this  department  of  education,  as  well  as  in 
others,  true  instruction  is  nothing  else  than  the  exposition  of  a  prin 
ciple  along  with  an  analytical  application  of  it.  Yet  this  is  the  very 
mode  of  procedure  which  Dr.  Whately  condemns,  when  he  objects  so 
decidedly  to  that  method  of  elocutionary  training  which  calls  the 
attention  of  the  student  first  to  the  prominent  vocal  effects  of  an 
emotion,  and  then  descends  to  the  particulars  of  expression  in  "  em- 
phas's,  pauses,  &c." 

The  errors  of  theory,  regarding  this  department  of  education,  have 
been  dwelt  on  longer  than  might  have  otherwise  been  necessary,  were 
it  not  for  the  proneness  of  those  who  superintend  and  control  the 
forms  of  instruction,  to  defer  to  the  authority  of  distinguished  names, 
and  to  discourage  the  well  directed  efforts  of  the  teacher.  The  mode 
in  which  reading  is  taught,  or  elocution  practiced,  in  the  successive 
stages  of  education,  has  a  greater  effect  on  mental  and  moral  devel 
opment,  than  any  other  branch  of  instruction  :  it  affects  not  only  the 
intelligence,  but  the  taste,  the  habits,  and  the  whole  character  of  the 
mind.  To  the  young  teacher,  therefore,  it  is  exceedingly  important 
that  his  views  on  the  subject  be  clear  and  correct. 

The  practice  of  Gesture. — The  visible  part  of  elocution, — express 
ive  action, — is  another  subject  on  which  the  errors  of  theory  and 
practice  are  numerous  and  great.  They  consist  chiefly,  however,  in 
intentional  or  unconscious  neyhct,  on  the  one  hand,  and  mechanical 
cultivation,  on  the  other.  The  former  cause  of  faulty  habit  appears 
in  inexpressive,  unmeaning,  and  inappropriate  forms  of  bodily  action, 
in  insignificant  tricks  of  personal  habit,  or  in  excessive  and  violent 
gesticulation,  accompanied  by  awkward  and  uncouth  attitudes:  the 
latter  shows  itself  in  unnatural,  affected,  or  fantastic  gestures  and  posi 
tions.  The  expressive  actions  which  naturally  and  properlv  belong 
to  public  address  on  subjects  which  call  forth  emotion,  being  larger 
and  more  forcible  than  those  which  belong  to  tho  habitual  style  of 
private  conversation,  it  is  of  great  service,  in  the  training  of  youth, 
that,  in  addition  to  all  the  healthful  aids  arising  from  manly  exercises 
and  enlivening  sports,  there  should  be  a  daily  course  of  training  on 
the  principal  forms  of  oratorical  action,  with  a  view  to  ensure  force, 
and  freedom,  and  propriety  of  manner,  as  regards  the  natural  lan 
guage  of  attitude  and  action.  This  language  has  its  principles  for 
the  guidance  of  the  teacher  and  the  student  as  well  as  the  artist. 
The  attentive  investigation  of  these  principles  is  the  only  source  of 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  9! 

true  and  liberal  instruction  or  useful  study.  From  these  principles 
rules  for  application  necessarily  flow ;  and  it  depends  on  the  teacher 
and  the  student  whether  the  latter  shall  be  well  and  skillfully  trained, 
neglected,  or  superficially  taught. 

Artistic  Cultivation  of  Taste. — Provision  is  formally  made,  in 
many  seminaries,  for  a  more  liberal  allowance  of  cultivation  for  the 
expressive  faculties,  than  is  afforded  in  the  mere  learning  to  read,  in 
the  study  of  grammar  and  rhetoric,  or  in  the  practice  of  composition 
and  elocution.  The  demands  of  Taste  are  recognized  and  complied 
with,  so  far  as  regards  a  certain  measure  of  instruction  in  music  and 
drawing.  But,  in  very  many  seminaries,  the  little  arbitrary  and  im 
perfect  instruction  which  is  given  in  these  branches,  is  too  frequently 
much  worse  than  none ;  unless  we  are  willing  to  recognize  the  form 
ing  of  bad  taste  in  either  art  as  an  admissible  service  of  education, 

Lessons  in  Drawing  :  Common  Mistake. — Many  parents  and  teach 
ers  never  bestow  a  thought  on  the  true  character  or  proper  uses  of 
art,  as  a  means  of  mental  culture,  or  as  a  practical  accomplishment, 
but  labor  under  the  false  notion  that  a  little  dabbling  in  it,  under  a 
very  ordinary  instructor,  is  at  least  something  gained  toward  refine 
ment  of  taste  arid  graceful  habit.  There  can  not  be  a  greater  error 
committed  in  education  than  this.  Every  attempt  to  copy  an  imper 
fect  model,  brings  down  the  tone  of  taste,  and  does  something  to  hin 
der  the  attainment  of  excellence.  Neglect  is  wholesome,  when  com 
pared  with  perversion  or  with  false  instruction. 

"My  daughter,"  says  an  affectionate  mother,  u  wishes  to  learn  draw 
ing  ;  and  Mr.  Blank  is  getting  up  a  class ;  and  I  think  I  shall  let  her  join. 
Mr.  Blank's  drawing  is  no  great  things,  to  be  sure.  But  a  little  no 
tion  of  drawing  can  do  my  daughter  no  harm,  at  least;  and,  per 
haps,  she  may  take  a  liking  for  it ;  and  then  she  can  find  a  better 
teacher,  when  it  will  be  worth  while  to  have  one."  Here  are  the  com 
mon  errors, — that  there  is  any  benefit  in  a  little  poor  or  lad  art,  or  that 
any  speck  of  it  is  not  a  positive  blemish  ;  that  the  elements  of  art 
can  be  taught  by  an  incompetent  teacher;  and  that,  after  having 
taste  thus  perverted,  the  pupil  can  rally,  acquire  new  principles,  and 
form  new,  habits.  The  actual  experience  of  most  pupils  thus  misdi 
rected,  is  the  painful  conviction  that,  without  a  perfect  command  of 
elements,  nothing  whatever  can  be  done  in  art,  and  that  every  neg 
lected  false  line  or  touch,  in  rudirnental  lessons,  is  sure  to  injure  the 
habits  of  eye  and  hand,  in  all  subsequent  execution,  besides  lowering 
the  standard  of  excellence,  and  degrading  the  taste  of  the  student. 

Music :  Singing. — An  error  similar  to  that  just  mentioned,  pre 
vails  with  regard  to  instruction  and  practice  in  music, — more  partic- 


92  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACl'l.TIES. 

ularly,  in  instrumental  music.  The  vocal  department,  however,  is 
not  without  its  many  evils  of  erroneous  conception  and  faulty  instruc 
tion.  Sinking,  by  the  formal  manner  in  which  it  issoin^times  taught, 
becomes  one  of  the  listless  tasks  which  the  juvenile  pupil  is  com 
pelled  to  perform  in  the  routine  of  school  duty,  instead  of  being  one 
of  the  natural  enjoyments  and  welcome  recreations  of  daily  life,  in 
which  intellectual  activity  is  accompanied  by  pleasing  emotion  and 
free  expression.  The  young  learner,  who  should  be  permitted  to 
enter  at  once  on  the  pleasure  of  listening  to  pure  and  perfect  strains 
of  actual  music,  and  then  to  join  in  the  attempt  to  execute  them,  in 
the  natural  training  of  ear  and  voice,  is  commonly  detained  for  a  long 
course  of  drilling  on  technical  terms  and  arbitrary  rules.  Music  is 
thus  rendered  a  tasteless,  irksome,  artificial  exercise  to  the  pupil,  and 
fails  of  accomplishing  its  main  objects  of  quickening  the  ear,  enlivening 
the  feelings,  moulding  the  voice,  and  cultivating  the  taste,  by  the  in 
fluence  of  pure  and  beautiful  examples  of  vocal  sound,  in  the  express 
ion  of  feeling  and  sentiment. 

Demoralizing  Influence  of  Low  Taste. — The  result  is  still  more 
injurious  when  low  taste  is  permitted  to  obtrude  its  degrading  influ 
ences  on  the  sacred  sphere  of  music;  when  song  is  treated  as  merely 
a  form  of  amusement  or  of  sport,  and  when  the  corrupting  effects  of 
gross  humor  and  ridiculous  caricature,  are  intentionally  introduced  in 
the  lessons  of  an  art  designed  to  purify  and  elevate  the  soul.  When 
to  such  influences  there  is  added  the  express  utterance  of  degrading 
and  demoralizing  sentiment,  in  the  words  of  a  piece  of  music  selected 
for  a  school  exercise,  the  work  of  the  enemy  who  sows  tares  in  the 
field,  is  fully  accomplished ;  and  education  lends  its  hand  to  the  act 
of  helping  the  young  mind  not  upward  but  positively  downward. 

Deficient  and  Faulty  Instruction. — When  the  grosser  evils  which 
have  been  mentioned,  are  avoided,  there  are  not  unfrequently  others, 
quite  serious  in  effect,  arising  from  the  influence  of  imperfect  cultiva 
tion  and  false  taste  in  the  teacher,  or  in  the  community  of  which  the 
pupil  is  a  member.  Inaccurate,  slovenly,  and  heedless  execution  de 
feats  all  the  purposes  of  musical  cultivation,  and  renders  the  absence 
of  culture  preferable  to  the  possession  of  it.  Every  repetition  of  a 
fault  confirms  an  error  of  perception,  a  perversion  of  feeling,  or  a  cor 
ruption  of  taste,  and  deepens  it  into  a  vice  of  habit  and  a  defect  in 
mental  character. 

Instrumental  Music. — The  more  laborious  forms  of  culture  which 
are  indispensable  to  success  in  the  performance  of  instrumental  mu 
sic,  strike  yet  deeper  into  the  ta*te  and  tendencies  of  the  mind,  as 
regards  the  character  and  effects  of  expression.  Faults  in  this 


CULTIVATION   OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  93 

department  of  musical  instruction,  are,  it  is  true,  not  so  widely  diffused 
as  those  which  are  so  often  displayed  in  the  teaching  of  vocal  music. 
But  they  are  not  less  prejudicial  to  the  pupil  individually.  The  in 
cessant  and  arduous  application  which  is  required  of  all  who  wish  to 
perform  successfully  on  any  instrument, -exhausts  and  discourages 
pupils  who  have  not  a  true  and  deep  love  of  music,  together  with  the 
enduring  physical  vigor  and  muscular  power  which  consummate  exe 
cution  demands.  The  attempt  to  continue  practice,  under  such  dis 
advantages,  is  more  injurious  than  beneficial ;  and  when  the  pupil  is 
dragged  through  the  daily  infliction,  the  whole  course  ends  in  that 
miserable  fa'. lure  over  whose  multitude  of  sins  the  false  charity  of 
society  is  so  often  called  to  throw  its  mantle.  In  music,  as  in  every 
other  form  of  expressive  art,  no  culture  is  greatly  to  be  preferred  to 
that  which  entails  error  and  imperfection. 

Fulse  Models. — The  evils  of  defective  cultivation  are  not  less  con 
spicuous  when  the  pupil  possesses  both  taste  and  diligence  and  good 
ability,  but  is  misled  in  style,  by  the  influence  of  a  false  model  in 
instruction.  Of  late  years,  the  facility  of  obtaining  instruction  of  the 
Lejt  order,  is  greatly  increased.  But  a  fatal  error  is  still  quite  cur 
rent  among  parents,  that  elementary  lessons  do  not  require  a  high 
standard  of  perfection  in  the  teacher,  and  that  therefore  the  rudiments 
of  music  may  be  acquired  under  any  supervision.  In  this  way,  vast 
numbers  of  pupils  are  rendered  imperfect  performers,  for  life,  by 
wrong  habits  acquired  in  the  earliest  stages  of  instruction  and  prac 
tice, — habits  which  no  subsequent  reformatory  training  is  capable  of 
correcting. 

MEANS  OF  CORRECTING  PREVALENT  ERRORS  IN  THE  CULTIVATION 
OF  THE   EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

Remedial  Effects  of  Good  Instruction. — The  remedy  for  existing 
evils  in  this  as  in  other  departments  of  education,  lies  partly,  it  must 
be  acknowledged,  with  parents  and  the  official  guardians  of  public 
instruction  ;  and  some  of  the  evils  adverted  to  are  confessedly  beyond 
the  sphere  of  the  teacher's  action.  Still,  in  the  actual  business  of 
teaching,  even  under  all  the  impediments  arising  from  false  views  of 
education  arid  false  plans  of  established  procedure  in  instruction, 
much  may  be  effected  in  the  way  of  beneficial  reformation,  by  intel 
ligent  and  judicious  measures  on  the  part  of  the  teacher,  in  his  mode 
of  conducting  the  daily  lessons  and  exercises  in  those  branches  of 
instruction  which  are  recognized  and  demanded  by  general  opinion 
or  by  legislative  enactment. 

Examples. — Referring  to  the    utterly  deficient  provision  which  the 


94  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

general  plan  of  current  education  make*  for  the  cultivation  and  devel 
opment  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  an  enterprising  and  vigilant  teacher 
will  find  no  difficulty  in  inducing  his  pupils  to  take  a  short  walk  with 
him,  for  a  few  minutes  daily,  at  a  suitable  season  of  the  year,  with  a 
view  to  a  little  familiar  conversation  with  them  about  the  form  and 
character  of  a  plant, — even  though  but  a  weed  on  the  road-side. 
The  conversation  can  be  easily  so  managed  as  to  lead  to  the  attentive 
observation  and  close  examination  of  every  part  of  the  plant,  as  des 
ignated,  first,  by  the  name  in  ordinary  use,  and,  afterward,  if  conven 
ient,  by  the  more  exact  term  of  scientific  nomenclature.  A  micro 
scope,  such  as  may  be  easily  obtained  for  a  few  dollars,  will  be  an 
infallible  attraction  to  observation  and  inspection,  in  such  excursions, 
and  will  prove  a  most  efficient  assistant  teacher.  Curiosity,  and  won 
der,  and  inquiry,  once  excited  in  this  way,  will  cause  the  young  mind 
to  drink  in,  with  delight,  every  item  of  information  which  falls  from 
the  lips  of  the  teacher.  Actual  knowledge  will  thus  be  obtained,  and 
its  pleasure  consciously  felt.  Feeling  and  emotion,  the  main  springs 
of  expression,  are  now  brought  into  play ',  imagination  is  awakened, 
and,  under  the  guidance  of  intelligence,  will  recognize  the  trace's  of 
beauty  and  skill  in  the  handiwork  of  Nature.  To  record,  in  writing, 
what  the  eye  has  seen,  and  the  ear  heard,  and  the  mind  conceived, 
during  such  a  lesson,  will  be  no  hardship  of  Egyptian  task-work,  but 
a  pleasure  and  a  privilege.  Manv  a  faithful  teacher  in  our  New 
England  States,  has,  in  this  way, — without  waiting  for  an  educational 
millennium,  in  which  botany,  composition,  and  natural  theology  shall 
all  be  introduced  into  our  common  schools,  by  legislative  authority, — 
"taken  the  responsibility,"  personally,  and  given  an  excellent  element 
ary  lesson  in  all  three. 

First  Lessons  in  Spelling  and  Reading. — The  unphilosophical  and 
arbitrary  manner  in  which  many  branches  of  education  are  actually 
taught,  admits  obviously  of  a  remedy  at  the  teacher's  will.  There  is 
no  necessity  of  blindly  following  the  practice  of  making  the  child 
commit  to  memory  the  names  of  all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  before 
lie  is  asked  to  join  the  sounds  of  two,  so  as  to  read  the  words  he  or 
me.  There  is  abundance  of  rhyme,  but  very  little  reason,  in  making 
the  child  read  a  whole  column  of  rarely  occurring  and  even  of  unin 
telligible  words,  because  they  all  happen  to  have  the  same  or  similar 
combination  of  letters ;  while  his  bright  eyes  would  sparkle  with  in 
telligence  and  delight,  to  see,  in  the  column,  a  single  word  whose 
familiar  sound  would  soon  render  its  face  as  familiar.  To  the  young 
learner  in  I  he  primer,  the  spelling-book,  or  the  school  dictionary,  the 
whole  volume  arranges  itself  in  three  classes  of  words:  (1.)  those 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  95 

which  children  of  his  age  understand  and  use ;  (2,)  those  which  they 
understand,  when  they  hear  them  from  the  lips  of  older  children  or 
of  adults,  but  which  they  do  not  use  themselves ;  (3,)  those  which 
they  neither  use  nor  understand,  but  which  with  the  aid  of  teacher 
and  book,  they  are,  in  due  season,  to  learn  to  understand  and  use 
aright.  To  follow  the  true  order  of  teaching,  in  such  circumstances, 
will  cost  the  teacher  no  more  trouble  than  the  simple  act  of  dotting 
with  the  pencil  point,  on  the  column  of  the  given  page  of  the  pupil's 
book,  those  words  which  he  finds  adapted  to  the  class-lesson  of  the 
hour,  according  to  the  intelligence  and  advancement  of  his  scholars. 
Phonetic  and  Empirical  Methods. — Another  expedient  for  the  re 
moval  of  impediments  to  successful  elementary  instruction,  and  one 
which  the  teacher  can  easily  adopt,  after  having  made  the  selection 
of  words,  as  suggested  above,  would  consist  in  the  subdivision  of 
each  of  the  classes  mentioned  into  analogous  and  anomalous  sub 
classes.  All  the  words  of  the  first  class,  for  example, — those  which 
are  familiar  to  the  child's  ear  and  mind,  by  daily  personal  use, — are 
either  regular  or  irregular,  as  to  the  combination  of  their  letters  in 
name  and  sound.  The  former  of  these  sub-classes  may  be  easily 
learned  by  the  process  of  spelling  them  by  the  sounds  of  the  letters 
which  compose  the  words.  Thus,  in  the  word  "  page,"  the  names  of 
the  first  three  letters  very  readily  suggest  their  sounds,  the  combina 
tion  of  which  constitutes  the  reading  of  the  word.  But  not  so  with 
the  word  "gag,"  in  which  not  one  of  all  the  letters  suggests  its  own 
sound  by  the  name  given  to  it.  By  the  principle  of  analogy,  there 
fore,  all  words  in  which  the  name  of  the  letter  prompts  the  sound  to 
the  ear,  may  be  advantageously  taught  by  the  phonetic  method  of 
merely  articul^ing  the  sounds  of  the  letters  successively.  The  sim 
plicity  of  this  method  enables  children  to  make  rapid  progress  in  syl 
labication  and  in  reading;  and  on  the  principle  of  allowing  children 
the  pleasure  of  helping  themselves  forward  in  an  intelligent,  conscious 
progress,  this  part  of  early  training  should  never  be  neglected.  But, 
even  in  those  words  which  are  familiar,  in  sense  and  in  use,  to  the 
ears  and  minds  of  young  children,  there  are  very  many  in  which 
there  is  little  or  no  analogy  between  the  names  of  the  letters  and  the 
sounds  which  they  receive  in  the  pronunciation  of  a  word  or  the 
enunciation  of  a  syllable.  The  orthography  of  such  words  is  no  relia 
ble  guide  to  their  orthoepy.  To  name  their  component  letters,  there 
fore,  can  effect  nothing  further  than  to  satisfy  the  teacher  that  the 
eye  of  the  child  has  taken  in  every  letter  of  the  word  before  him. 
So  far  well.  But,  after  all,  the  child's  eye  actually  learns  to  take  in 
such  words  by  the  letters  in  mass,  and  depends  on  an  arbitrary  effort 


96  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES 

of  memory,  in  pronouncing  them.  The  sooner,  therefore,  that  the 
little  learner  acquires  the  habit  of  reading  such  words  at  sight,  with 
out  puzzling  himself  with  the  confusion  arising  from  the  discrepancy 
between  the  names  and  the  sounds  of  their  component  letters,  the 
more  easy  and  the  more  sure  will  be  his  progress. 

Each  of  these  methods  of  teaching,  in  the  elementary  processes  of 
spelling  and  reading,  is  good  for  its  own  purpose ; — the  phonetic  for 
the  analogies  of  orthoepy,  and  the  empirical,  as  it  may  be  called,  for 
its  anomalies.  But  the  error  in  teaching  has  been  the  indiscriminate 
and  exclusive  use  of  the  one  or  the  other;  in  consequence  of  which, 
the  learner's  progress  has  been  rendered  unnecessarily  difficult  and 
tedious.  The  inherent  difficulties  of  a  language  so  irregular  .as  the 
English,  render  the  closest  attention,  on  the  part  of  the  teacher,  to 
every  means  of  overcoming  them,  doubly  important  in  early  training. 

Orthoepy. — In  this  branch  of  instruction  everything  depends  on 
the  living  teacher, — on  the  correctness  of  his  own  exemplifications 
and  the  diligence  of  his  endeavors.  Indeed,  there  is,  commonly,  nc 
re.ison,  but  neglect  on  the  part  of  the  instructor,  why  every  child  at 
school  is  not  daily  and  thoroughly  trained  in  the  exact  articulation  of 
all  the  elementary  sounds  of  the  English  language,  and  in  the  dis 
tinct  enunciation  of  their  principal  radical  combinations;  nor  any 
other  reason  why  an  obsolete,  awkward,  or  inappropriate  manner  of 
[•renouncing  common  words  should  be  tolerated  in  any  stage  of 
education. 

44 School  Reading" — A  similar  remark  may  be  made,  as  regards 
the  unmeaning  and  inexpressive  style  of  reading,  which  is  so  current, 
not  only  in  schools,  but  in  higher  seminaries  and  proft-ssional  exer 
cises.  This  fault,  so  commonly  remarked,  would  ty«>t  exist  at  any 
stage  of  education,  or  in  anv  form  of  life,  pri\ate  or  public,  if  our 
primary  teachers  were  only  attentive  to  accustpir.  their  pupils,  in  their 
very  first  exercises  in  the  reading  of  sentences,  to  repeat  them  care 
fully,  with  a  view  to  the  expression  of  sense  and  not  the  mere  pronoun 
cing  of  words. 

Academic  Elocution. — This  department  of  instruction  is  another 
in  which  the  appropriate  cultivation  of  the  expressive  faculties  is  not 
dependent  on  anv  change  in  the  prescribed  forms  of  education,  so 
much  as  on  the  personal  endeavors  of  the  teacher.  Our  public  speak 
ers  would  not  so  generally  utter  their  words  in  the  formal  tones  of 
arbitrary  pulpit  style,  were  teachers  duly  attentive  to  point  out  to 
young  academic  decluimers  the  natural  and  appropriate  vocal  express 
ion  of  feeling  and  sentiment ;  nor  should  we  ever  see  those  frenzied 
extravagances  of  passion  and  grotesque  gesticulation,  winch  so  fro- 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES.  97 

quently  degrade  the  style  of  popular  oratory,' were  teachers  careful  to 
cultivate,  in  academic  declamation,  purity  of  taste,  and  true  force  of 
effect,  in  the  utterance  of  emotion. 

Grammatical  Instruction. — Even  in  the  teaching  of  grammar, 
where  less  scope,  perhaps,  is  given  to  the  discretion  of  the  teacher,  it 
still  depends  on  himself  whether  he  shall  follow  the  precise  order 
of  topics  in  an  ill-arranged  text-book,  or  use  his  own  judgment,  and 
present  the  subject  to  the  minds  of  his  pupils  in  the  order  which  he 
feels  that  an  intelligent  and  practical  study  of  the  subject,  and  a  ra 
tional  progress  in  its  application,  demand.  Nothing  lies  more  prop 
erly  within  the  province  of  the  teacher,  than  the  duty  of  seeing  to  it 
that  his  pupils  thoroughly  understand  every  word  of  their  various 
lessons,  and  thus  reap  the  benefit  of  grammar,  in  the  perfect  inter 
pretation  and  right  use  of  the  current  words  of  their  own  communi 
cations  by  speech  and  writing,  and  in  the  perusal  of  the  useful  pro 
ductions  of  the  press.  The  faithful  use  of  an  etymological  spelling- 
book,  and  of  the  dictionary,  is  all  the  cost  of  an  aid  so  valuable  to 
the  teacher,  and  of  an  attainment  so  valuable  to  die  pupil. 

Practical  Rhetoric  :  School  Exercises. — Training  in  the  appropriate 
use  of  the  English  language,  ought  not  to  be  limited  to  the  mere 
grammatical  exercise  of  composing  sentences.  Even  in  our  common 
schools,  it  should  extend  to  that  cultivation  of  taste  by  which  neat  as 
well  as  correct  expression  is  acquired  as  a  habit.  To  cultivate,  in  his 
pupils,  the  power  of  appreciating  excellence  in  language,  it  is  not 
necessary  that  the  teacher  should  refer  them  to  a  systematic  treatise 
on  rhetoric.  The  school  reading  book  usually  furnishes  abundance 
of  the  best  materials  for  culture,  in  the  presentation  of  the  best  modes 
of  composition,  as  exemplified  in  the  language  of  the  pieces  pre 
scribed  as  reading  lessons.  The  very  best  training  for  the  acquisition 
of  sound  judgment  and  good  taste  in  expression,  may  easily  be  had, 
if  the  teacher  will  but  secure  the  intelligent  and  voluntary  action  of 
his  pupils,  in  frequently  analysing  portions  of  some  of  the  best  of 
such  passages,  in  occasionally  transcribing  them,  and  even  committing 
them  to  memory.  The  exercise  of  careful  transcription,  is,  perhaps, 
the  best  practical  expedient  that  can  be  found  for  securing  that  literal 
and  mechanical  correctness  in  the  details  of  the  written  forms  of  lan 
guage,  as  to  orthography  and  punctuation,  which  though,  indeed,  but 
minor  matters,  are  yet  so  important,  as  indispensable  to  the  decencies 
and  proprieties  of  style.  How  ineffectual,  for  such  purposes,  the 
common  routine  of  education  proves,  none  can  know  but  persons 
whose  business  brings  them  into  extensive  observation  of  such  par 
ticulars. 


98  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

Rhetorical  Exercises  in  higher  Seminaries. — To  remedy  the  evils 
arising  from  the  narrow  and  artificial  character  of  our  higher  forms 
of  rhetorical  culture,  we  need  a  wider  scope  of  discipline  not  only  in 
rhetoric  itself,  but  in  logic,  and  in  the  principles  of  taste  as  embodied 
in  the  aesthetics  of  every  form  of  expressive  art.  We  need,  yet  more, 
however,  a  special  course  of  practical  training,  for  which  the  rhetori 
cal  teacher  ought  justly  to  be  held  responsible, — a  course  which 
should  consist  in  the  careful  and  close  analysis  of  distinguished  mod 
els  of  successful  composition,  so  as  to  trace  their  order  arid  method  in 
the  arrangement  of  thought,  the  artistic  character  of  their  aesthetic 
lijjlit  and  shade  and  coloring,  the  mechanism  of  their  sentential,  struc 
ture,  and  the  aptness  of  their  verbal  expression  in  de-tail.  A  long 
and  rigorous  course  of  disciplinary  exercise  in  such  forms,  would  not 
only  furnish  the  pen  of  the  ready  writer  for  the  varied  demands  of 
actual  life,  but  the- requisite  preparatory  training  for  the  office  of  pub 
lic  Bpeaking,  in  which  a  ready  command  of  well  digested  thought 
and  fit  expression  is  so  important  to  successful  effort.  The  student 
would,  by  such  training, -effectually  learn  the  value  of  clear  consecu 
tive  thinking,  of  genuine  taste,  of  manly  plainness  of  diction  and 
simplicity  of  expression  :  he  would  be  thoroughly  secured  from  fall 
ing  into  the  "bald,  disjointed  chat,"  the  pompous  harangue,  the  insane 
extravagance  of  emotion,  and  the  fantastic  verbiage,  which  are  so 
often  palmed  on  our  popular  assemblies,  and  lauded  in  our  transient 
vehicles  of  criticism,  as  wonderful  displays  of  or'ginal  genius  or  orator 
ical  power. 

The  Slndy  of  Language. — One  very  important  aid  to  the  gene 
rous  culture  and  full  development  of  the  expressive  faculties,  is,  as  yet, 
very  imperfectly  furnished  by  our  higher  forms  of  liberal  education. 
While  the  study  of  the  ancient  languages -is  formally  acknowledged 
as  one  of  the  most  efficacious  methods  of  training  the  mind  to  a  dis 
tinct  perception  of  whatever  constitutes  power  or  perfection  of  ex 
pression  ;  and  while  liberal  provision^  time  and  means  is  carefully 
made,  with  a  view  to  secure  the  full  benefit  to  be  derived  from  the 
contemplation  and  analytical  examination  of  these  faultless  models ; 
too  little  attention  is  paid  to  the  invaluable  advantages  which  might 
be  gained  from  a  corresponding  rigor  of  study  and  analysis,  directed 
to  the  great  authors  who  constitute  the  classics  of  modern  literature, 
in  foreign  languages,  and  in  our  own. 

The  perfunctory  perusal  arid  verbal  recrtation  of  a  few  passages 
from  such  authors,  which  usually  form  a  part  of  academic  exercises, 
in  this  department  of  education,  can  never  be  seriously  proposed  as 
effecting  the  purposes  of  critical  appreciation  and  thorough  disci}. line. 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

Ill  our  highest  seminaries,  little  is  attempted  beyond  the  processes  of 
grammatical  analysis  and  interpretation,  in  a  course  of  literal  and 
mechanical  routine,  even  with  regard  to  the  ancient  classics  ;  a  mere 
modicum  of  the  same  species  of  attention  is  usually  given  to  the 
very  noblest  writers  of  Germany,  France  or  Italy.  The  Spanish  and 
the  Portuguese  languages  are  given  up,  for  the  most  part,  to  those  per 
sons  who  happen  to  have  occasion  for  the  use  of  them,  as  a  conven 
ience  in  mercantile  operations.  The  languages  of  the  North  of  Europe, 
whose  ancestral  affinities  with  the  English  render  them  so  richly 
instructive,  as  regards  the  full  and  true  understanding  and  expert  use 
of  the  most  significant  and  expressive  part  of  our  own  native  lan 
guage  ; — these,  as  yet,  are  left  to  an  adventurous  few,  comparatively, 
— the  solitary  explorers  and  pioneers  in  the  study  of  modern  literature. 

America,  in  its  peculiar  national  position,  which  brings  to  its 
open  homes  men  of  all  countries  and  of  every  tongue,  possesses  un- 
equaled  facilities  for  the  extensive  acquisition  of  all  the  benefits 
resulting  from  the  study  of  language  in  its  various  forms  ;  and  a  wide 
range  of  advantages,  in  this  relation  of  culture,  should  be  justly  held 
as  the  birthright  of  our  children,  and  as  the  characteristic  distinction 
of  our  educated  youth  and  mature  scholars.  Not  that  we  would 
have  American  teachers  pursue  the  course,  which  is  unfortunately  yet 
too  common,  of  giving  a  superficial  attention,  for  a  few  months,  &r  a 
few  weeks,  perhaps,  to  one  or  more  of  the  languages  of  modern 
Europe,  and  then  attempting  the  task  of  teaching  them.  But,  gen 
erally  speaking,  American  teachers  who  wish  to  enjoy  the  advan 
tage  of  teaching  more  intelligently  and  effectually  their  native  lan 
guage,  in  consequence  of  the  opportunity  of  better  understanding  its 
character,  by  their  ability  to  compare  it  with  others, — an  advantage 
beyond  price  ; — most,  if  not  all,  of  such  teachers  have  easy  resort  to  a 
living  instructor  in  whatever  language  they  desire  to  study,  and  may, 
in  due  time,  become  possessed  in  this  way,  of  a  vast  amount  of  intel 
lectual  wealth,  the  benefit  of  which  is  sure  to  be  felt,  not  only  in 
their  own  mental  action,  but  in  the  attainments  of  their  pupils. 

In  the  department  of  language,  however,  there  is  no  acquirement 
of  which  teachers  and  pupils  stand  in  more  urgent  need  than  that  of 
a  perfect  command  of  correct,  clear,  strong,  expressive  English.  The 
attention  paid  to  this  most  important  attainment  is,  as  yet,  utterly  in 
adequate  to  the  demands  of  a  generous  cultivation  or  those  of  actual 
life  and  its  daily  duties.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  this  humilia 
ting  admission.  Yet  little  is  done  to  do  away  with  the  necessity  for 
it.  We  have,  it  is  true,  of  late  years,  made  some  advances  toward  a 


100  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EXPRESSIVE  FACULTIES. 

better  state  of  things,  in  our  educational  provision  of  better  modes  of 
teaching  grammar,  synthetically  as  well  as  analytically  ;  and,  in  some 
schools,  the  practical  study  of  etymology  receives  a  comnu'iidablo 
degree  of  attention.  Yet  it  is  rare  to  find  in  any  seminary  that 
thorough  analytical  investigation  of  the  words  of  our  language  which 
every  student  is  expected  to  exemplify  in  his  exercises  on  a  page  of 
the  ancient  classics. 

The  study  of  English  words,  if  faithfully  pursued  in  the  daily  les 
sons  of  our  schools,  with  any  thing  like  the  application  exhibited  in 
the  examination,  and  classifying,  and  arranging,  and  labeling  of  the 
specimens  of  even  a  very  ordinary  cabinet,  would  enrich  the  intel 
lectual  stores  of  the  young  and  even  of  the  mature  mind,  to  an  ex 
tent  of  which  we  can,  at  present,  hardly  form  a  conception.  Nothing, 
however,  short  of  such  diligence  will  serve  any  effectual  purpose. 
The  student  of  his  own  vernacular  tongue  must  be  content  to  employ 
the  same  close,  minute  inspection,  the  same  careful  examination,  the 
same  correct  designation,  the  same  exact  location  and  scrupulous  con 
servation  of  every  word  that  lie  would  intelligently  appreciate  or 
skillfully  use,  as  the  mineralogist  adopts  in  the  selection  and  arrange 
ment  of  his  specimens. 

Our  prevalent  modes  of  education  have  been  so  defective,  as  re 
gards  the  means  or  opportunities  of  acquiring  a  proper  knowledge  of 
the  English  language,  that  the  humble  attainment  of  perfect  orthogra 
phy  is  comparatively  rare,  even  among  the  "  liberally "  educated. 
Few  students,  even  in  our  higher  seminaries  of  learning,  are  trained 
to  recognize  and  appreciate  the  value  of  an  English  root  or  primitive 
word,  to  trace  a  secondary  to  a  primary  sense,  or  a  primary  to  its 
secondary,  to  translate  a  passage  of  Latinized  English  into  its  Saxon 
equivalent  words  of  the  mother- tongue,  to  draw  the  line  of  discrimina 
tion  between  present  and  obsolete  usage  in  expression,  to  detect  the 
nice  shades  of  meaning  in  words  regarded  as  synonymous, — to  use, 
in  fact,  their  own  language  expertly. 

It  is  universally  admitted  that  no  language  needs  such  processes  to 
be  applied  to  it  so  much  as  our  own.  Its  vast  copiousness,  in  conse 
quence  of  its  many  sources,  the  conflicting  character  of  these  them 
selves,  the  comparatively  small  number  of  English  writers  who  have 
been  willing  to  take  the  pains  to  write  correctly,  so  far  as  to  merit  the 
name  of  models,  the  contradictory  usage  which  has,  from  this  cause, 
prevailed,  even  among  distinguished  authors — all  have  conspired  to 
render  careful  study  and  extensive  practice  indispensable  to  the  stu 
dent  who  would  do  justice  to  the  great  language  which  it  is  his  birth 
right  to  inherit,  for  all  of  life's  best  purposes. 


CULTIVATION   OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 


INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. — In  the  preceding  lectures  of  tins 
series,  we  were  occupied  with  the  consideration  of  the  perceptive 
and  the  expressive  faculties,  with  a  view  to  the  plan  and  purposes  of 
education.  Following  the  historical  order  of  development  in  the  dif 
ferent  classes  in  which  the  mental  powers  may,  for  such  purposes,  be 
grouped,  we  enter  now  on  the  study  of  the  various  modes  of  intellect 
ual  action  which  may  be  classed  under  the  denomination  of 
REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Here  we  are  met  anew  by  a  difficulty  inherent  in  our  native  lan 
guage,  in  the  paucity  and  indefiniteness  of  the  terms  which  it  employs 
to  designate  the  phenomena  of  mind.  The  vagueness  of  the  phrase 
"  reflective  faculties,"  is  a  serious  impediment  to  clearness-  and  dis 
tinctness  of  conception,  as  regards  any  attempt  at  exact  definition  or 
satisfactory  classification  of  intellectual  acts  or  conditions.  The  term 
"  reflective,"  however,  if  we  resort  once  more  to  the  serviceable  aid 
of  etymology,  as  a  key  to  the  interpretation  of  language,  will  prove 
strikingly  suggestive  of  meaning ;  and,  by  its  figurative  force  and  pe 
culiar  significance,  will  atone,  to  some  extent,  for  its  deficiency  in 
philosophic  precision. 

The  term  "  perceptive,"  (literally,  taking  through,)  suggests  the  in 
tellectual  condition  in  which  the  mind  is  in  the  act  of  taking,  receiv 
ing,  or  forming,  ideas  through  the  medium  of  the  senses.  The  term 
"expression"  implies  a, state  in  which  the  mind  is  undergoing  a 
process  of  pressing,  or  being  pressed,  from  within  outward.  But  the 
term  'l  reflection,"  (bending  back,}  suggests,  figuratively,  that  state  or 
act  of  the  mind  in  which  it  reflects,  repeats,  or  gives  back,  inwardly, 
the  images  impressed  upon  itself, — the  effects  of  which  it  is  conscious, 
— whether  produced  from  without  or  from  within,  whether  occasioned 
by  perception,  imagination,  conception,  or  emotion.  In  this  condition 
is  is  implied  that  attention  turns  inward,  and  dwells,  more  or  less 
consciously,  on  its  internal  subjects,  rather  than  on  the  objects  by 
which  they  may  have  been  occasioned. 


!Q2  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

The  history, — so  to  term  it, — of  intellectual  action  implied  in  the 
application  of  the  word  "reflective,"  represents  the  mind,  as  in  the 
act  of  going  forth  from  its  inner  self,  meeting  the  forms  of  the 
external  world,  and,  by  the  impression  which  these  produce  upon  it, 
"reflecting,"  (turning  back  or  inward,)  upon  itself,  to  contemplate  and 
deliberately  consider  what  it  there  consciously  beholds.  Nor  does  the 
term  lose  aught  of  its  significance,  when  it  is  applied  to  the  inward 
action  of  the  mind  on  the  phenomena  of  its  own  consciousness,  when 
the  forms  of  imagination,  or  even  of  pure  thought  itself,  become  so 
forcible  as  to  attract  and  absorb  the  attention.  The  figurative  word 
then  represents  the  mind  as  turning  back  upon  itself,  to  look  inward, 
so  as  to  ascertain  and  define,  or  consider  more  fully,  the  objects  of  its 
own  creation,  and  to  follow  the  trains  of  thought  which  these  suggest. 
In  either  of  the  supposed  cases, — whether  the  objective  or  the  sub 
jective  world  furnish  the  data  of  thought, — the  result  is  an  ultimate 
inward  movement,  which,  although  it  may,  in  given  instances,  lead  to 
the  anticipation  of  external  action,  as  a  consequence,  is,  so  far,  a 
purely  mental  condition,  sanctioning  the  popular  usage  which  applies 
the  term  u  reflection  "  to  all  modes  of  intellectual  action  which  are 
of  a  strictly  internal  character. 

Recognizing  this  fact  of  language,  and  pursuing  our  analysis  of  the 
human  faculties  as  subjects  of  disciplinary  culture,  we  now,  therefore, 
change  our  field  of  observation,  and  pass  from  the  outward  spheres  of 
perceptive  observation  and  expressive  communication  to  the  silent,  in 
ner,  invisible,  spiritual,  and  purely  intellectual  region  of  Thought. 
We  now  contemplate  man  as  made  in  the  image  of  his  Maker,  as  an 
intelligent  and  rational  being;  and  we  trace  the  working  of  those 
powers  which  ally  him  to  "  things  unseen  and  eternal." 

Following,  as  before,  the  method  of  observing  (1,)  the  forms  of 
mental  action  grouped  under  a  given  classification;  (2.)  their  actua 
ting  principle,  or  motive  force  ;  (3,)  their  natural  and  habitual  tendency; 
(4,)  the  results  of  their  action  ;  and  (5,)  the  educational  2^'ocesses 
consequently  required  for  their  development  and  discipline,  we  proceed 
to  a  summary 

(I.)     ENUMERATION    OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Memory,  Conception,  Consciousness,  Reason,  Understanding,  Judg 
ment. 

Explanatory  Remark — This  classification  is  presented  not  as  one 
philosophically  complete  or  exhaustive,  but  merely  as  a  suggestive  out 
line,  for  educational  purposes.  It  is  intentionally  limited  to  the  chief 
of  those  forms  of  mental  action  which  may  be  regarded  as  acts  or 
powers  not  only  strictly  interior,  but  purely  intellectual,  as  contradis- 


CULTIVATION   OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  ^3 

tinguiahed  from  those  which  are  concerned  with  the  external  objects 
and  facts  of  perception,  from  those  which  consist  in  inwanf  or  outward 
movements  of  feeling,  and  from  those  which  are  conversant  with  the 
ideal  forms  and  creations  of  the  imagination.  A  more  extensive  clas 
sification,  including  the  subdivisions  and  subordinate  details  of  reflec 
tive  intellection,  will  necessarily  present  itself  at  a  later  stage  of  our 
analysis,  when  we  come  to  the  consideration  of  the  various  forms  of 
exercise  to  which  this  group  of  faculties  is  subjected  in  the  processes 
of  education. 

(1.)  MEMORY:  the  Jlasis  of  Reflective  Power. — This  faculty  nat 
urally  claims  our  first  attention,  when  we  contemplate  man  as  a  being 
endowed  with  the  power  of  reflective  intelligence.  It  is  this  faculty 
which  enables  him  to  take  the  first  step  from  the  exterior  and  object 
ive  world  into  the  interior  and  subjective.  Its  exercise  empowers  him, 
even  in  the  absence  of  the  objects  of  sense,  to  retain  or  to  recall,  for 
indefinite  periods,  and  at  indefinite  intervals,  the  ideas  which  he'  de 
rived  from  them.  He  can  thus,  at  pleasure,  dispense  with  the  actual 
presence  of  external  objects,  and  yet,  by  dwelling  on  them  mentally, 
after  he  has  withdrawn  from  them  outwardly,  pursue  the  trains  of 
thought  to  which  they  give  rise.  As  a  result,  he  thus  acquires  a  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  their  relations  to  his  own  interior  being,  and 
converts  the  pabulum  of  intelligence,  furnished  in  the  data  of  the  out 
ward  world,  into  the  pure  elements  of  intellectual  sustenance.  The 
activity  of  this  power  is,  in  fact,  the  measure  of  his  growth  in  mental 
stature  and  strength.  It  is  the  condition  of  all  intelligent,  pro 
gress,  whether  we  regard  memory  as  the  grand  receptacle  and  deposi 
tory  of  all  those  elements  of  knowledge  which  are  at  once  the  rudi 
ments  of  intellectual  life,  the  springs  mental  of  action,  and  the 
material  of  thought,  or  as  the  chain  which  links  the  past  to  the 
present,  and  retains  every  acquisition  as  a  foothold  for  the  next  step 
forward  in  the  processes  of  reason  and  the  investigation  of  truth. 

Remembrance. — The  faculty  of  memory,  even  in  its  comparatively 
passive  and  quiescent  form  of  mere  retention,  or  remembrance,  gives 
man  the  power  of  holding  with  a  firm  grasp  all  the  treasures  which 
observation  enables  him  to  accumulate  from  without,  and  to  carry 
them  with  him  into  that  internal  region  of  thought  where  they  are  to 
be  assimilated  to  his  own  mental  being,  and  become  component  parts 
of  it,  in  transfigured  forms  of  living  power  and  beauty.  Not  only  so  : 
but  even  the  involuntary  susceptibility  6f  this  vast  capacity  preserves 
in  the  mind  the  imprint  of  every  passing  thought,  every  form  of 
imagination,  and  every  mood  of  feeling,  which  has  character  enough 
to  excite  his  attention  and  recall  him  to  himself,  in  the  exercise  of 
consciousness  and  reflection. 


104  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Intellectual  and  Moral  Offices  of  Memory. — This  benign  retentive 
power  gives  unity  to  man's  intellectual  and  moral  life.  It  is  the  sure 
and  steadfast  anchor  by  which  he  grapples  the  present  to  the  past, 
and  is  saved  from  the  fluctuation  and  fragmentary  tossing  of  "the  ig 
norant  present."  In  the  wide  field  of  culture,  memory  makes  the  mind 
the  seed  plot  and  garden  ground  of  all  the  knowledge  which  human  care 
and  kindness  have  the  skill  or  the  power  to  drop  into  it.  Fertilized 
by  the  genial  influences  of  well  directed  education,  the  retentive  ca 
pacity  of  memory  becomes  rich  in  every  precious  and  noble  product 
of  mind  by  which  the  intellectual  life  of  the  world  is  nourished  and 
sustained. 

But  it  is  as  an  element  of  intellectual  and  moral  power  in  human 
character,  that  this  faculty  reveals  its  chief  value.  Its  very  nature  and 
tendency  is  to  constitute  man  a  reflective  being,  by  withdrawing  him 
from  the  influence  of  a  too  exclusive  regard  to  the  present  and  the 
external  ;  by  soliciting  his  attention  to  the  profoundest  verities  of  his 
own  intelligent  and  immortal  being  ;  and  by  balancing  the  stern  real 
ities  of  experience  against  the  sometimes  fallacious  solicitations  of 
hope,  or  the  grave  actualities  of  the  past  against  the  doubtful 
promises  of  the  future,  It  prompts  to  thought,  and  leads  to  security 
amidst  uncertainty  and  distraction.  It  invites  to  reflective  meditation, 
by  the  suggestive  materials  in  which  it  abounds.  It  cherishes  contem 
plation,  by  opening  to  the  mind's  eye  the  long  vista  of  the  past  with 
its  fast-linked  trains  of  scene  and  incident  and  action,  and  the  inef 
faceable  impressions  which  all  these  have  graven  upon  the  heart.  It 
tends  to  make  man  a  considerate  and  thoughtful  being,  by  the  faith 
ful  monitions  which  it  furnishes  to  the  lips  of  wisdom  warning  against 
the  errors  of  judgment  or  of  will,  by  reminding  of  their  penalties 
formerly  incurred. 

Remembrance  saves  from  the  domineering  ascendency  and  absorb 
ing  attractions  of  the  sensuous  and  the  transient,  by  intermingling  with 
the  fluidity  and  evanescence  of  the  present  the  solidity  and  perma 
nence  of  the  past.  R  thus  tends  to  give  gravity  and  weight  to  char 
acter  ;  and  if  its  influence  is  sometimes  a  shajle  too  sombre  forgayety, 
it  contributes  a  not  undesirable  element  to  the  sternness  of  manhood, 
as  a  safeguard  to  the  firmness  of  will.  Its  office  is,  in  this  respect,  a 
preventive  one, — to  save  man  from  the  instability  which  the  exclusive 
influence  of  things  present  and  things  outward  might  induce ;  and, 
by  attracting  him  inward  to  himself,  it  favors  the  acquisition  of  that 
self-knowledge  which  is  the  anchor  of  his  safety. 

Recollection. — This  term  is  but  another  name  for  the  faculty  of 
memory,  and  merely  intimates  that  the  impressions  made  on  the  mind 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  ]Qg 

by  a  given  object,  scene,  or  event,  may  have  been,  for  a  time,  effaced, 
or  its  elements  dispersed,  by  the  intervention  of  other  agencies ;  and 
that,  with  or  without  an  effort  of  the  will  to  that  effect,  but  by  the 
operation  of  some  law  of  mental  association,  the  idea  recurs  or  re 
turns,  as  it  were,  and,  perhaps,  unexpectedly  and  suddenly,  to  the 
mind.  We  are  then  said  to  "  recollect,"  (gather  again,)  or  recall 
what  had,  for  a  season,  escaped  the  retentive  hold  of  memory. 

The  very  abruptness  and  suddenness  of  the  transition  of  thought, 
in  such  instances,  exerts  a  peculiar  power  on  the  reflective  action  of 
the  mind,  and  makes  it  more  striking,  more  impressive,  and  more  ef 
fectual.  Recollection  may  thus  light  up  the  soul  with  the  instantane 
ous  gleam  of  a  rekindled  thought,  or  plunge  it  into  the  depths 
of  a  past  grief;  or  it  may  arrest  the  will  on  the  very  brink  of 
remembered  evil.  A  long  train  of  profound  reflections  may  thus 
be  suggested,  which  may  exert  an  influence  on  the  character  of  a 
whole  life. 

A  mere  flash  of  reflection  has  sometimes  sufficed,  by  the  instant  re 
calling  of  scenes  of  childhood's  innocent  enjoyment,  or  the  injunctions 
of  parental  wisdom  and  love  to  reinstate  conscience  on  its  rightful 
throne,  and  bring  back  the  tempted  to  himself,  or  to  restrain  him 
from  the  first  steps  of  a  career  of  ruin.  A  remembered  promise, 
pledging  honor  and  truth,  has  sometimes  risen  up  as  a  barrier  against 
an  approaching  tide  of  overwhelming  guilt.  Averse  of  sacred  Scrip 
ture,  darting  across  the  mind,  has  checked  the  hand  already  stretched 
out  to  do  the  deed  of  wickedness  which  no  after  tears  of  penitence 
could  have  sufficed  to  wash  out. 

But  not  as  a  preventive  only  does  memory  thus  subserve  man's 
highest  interests  :  its  recurring  suggestions  are  not  less  frequently  in 
spiring  prompters  to  every  form  of  virtue.  To  the  dispirited  traveler 
on  the  pathway  of  life,  it  comes,  sometimes,  as  an  inspiring  angel, 
with  messages  of  cheering  and  encouragement  drawn  from  the 
remembered  virtues  of  the  struggling  great  and  good  who  have  gone 
before.  It  points  him  to  "  their  footprints  on  the  sands  of  time,"  and 
bids  him  "  take  heart  again."  It  reminds  him  that  his  great  reliance 
is  not  on  the  outward  and  the  material,  but  on  that  "  hidden 
strength"  of  which  our  greatest  poet  speaks  so  eloquently.  The 
maxim  or  the  motto  which  the  guardian  care  of  the  mother  or  the 
teacher  had  engraven  as  a  watchword  on  the  tablet  of  the  heart,  in 
early  years,  recurs,  sometimes,  to  incite  to  noble  deeds  or  noble  en- 
during,  the  man  encompassed  by  difficulties  and  dangers  before  which 
he  would  otherwise  have  staggered.  The  "  one,  last,  best  effort, 
more,"  which  wins  the  crown  of  victory,  is  that,  not  unfrequcntly, 


106  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

which  follows  the  backward  glance  of  memory  to  the  parting  scene, 
and  farewell  words  of  a  parent's  blessing. 

Memory  as  a  Subject  of  Cultivation. — In  either  form,  whether 
that  of  retentive  remembrance  or  momentary  recollection,  memory 
•furnishes  the  material,  and  solicits  the  action,  of  the  whole  class  of 
reflective  faculties.  To  the  educator,  therefore,  the  judicious  cultiva 
tion  and  development  of  this  capacity,  in  the  minds  committed  to  his 
care,  becomes  a  matter  of  vital  moment,  that  the  impressible  memory 
of  the  young  may  be  rich  in  valuable  resources,  and  strong  for  the  aid 
of  every  good  purpose,  sound  and  healthy  in  its  action,  firm  in  its 
grasp,  and  prompt  to  yield  up  its  acquisitions  when  in  demand  for 
intellectual  emergencies. 

The  true  teacher  will  be  careful  that  this  indispensable  servant  of 
the  mind  be  not  exhausted  by  overwork,  that  its  strength  be  not 
expended  on  worthless  material,  that  its  receptive  capacity  be  not 
crammed  to  unhealthful  and  unprofitable  repletion,  at  the  expense  of 
inaction  and  inanity  to  all  the  other  capacities  of  the  mind.  But  of 
the  appropriate  modes  of  exercise  for  the  cultivation  of  this  faculty, 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  fully  under  the  head  of  educa 
tional  processes. 

(2.)  CONCEPTION  :  Etymological  Sense  of  the  Word. — The  prim 
itive  signification  of  this  term  implies  that  the  mind  has  the  power  of 
"taking"  (receiving,  or  forming,)  ideas  "with,"  (within,)  itself, 
whether  on  data  furnished  from  without,  and  by  the  alchemy  of  mind, 
transmuted  into  intellectual  forms,  or  on  materials  found  within  itself, 
originating  in  feeling  or  in  thought,  partaking  of  its  own  character, 
and  wearing  forms  purely  ideal.  In  the  process  of  intelligence,  con 
ception  presents  itself  as  the  counterpart  of  perception,  performing,  in 
the  interior  world  of  thought,  an  office  similar  to  that  of  the  latter  in 
the  domain  of  exterior  observation. 

Its  Proper  Acceptation. — The  term  "  conception,"  in  its  full  and 
proper  acceptation,  comprehends  the  action  of  the  mind  in  the  intel 
ligent  contemplation  or  cognition  of  any  object  or  subject  in  the 
whole  range  of  the  ideal  world.  It  applies  to  the  recognition  or  cre 
ation  of  the  forms  of  imagination  and  the  figures  of  fancy,  not  less 
than  to  the  ideas  of  pure  intellection.  In  the  former  relation,  it 
stands  connected  with  the  action  of  the  expressive  faculties,  as  dis 
cussed  in  a  previous  lecture ;  but  it  is  in  the  latter  sense,  as  a  contem 
plative  and  reflective  faculty,  that  we  now  regard  it.  In  this  connec 
tion,  it  approaches,  sometimes  to  the  sphere  of  memory,  and  draws 
from  that  source  the  materials  on  which  it  acts, — whether  these  wore 
originally  external  or  internal  in  their  origin. 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  JQ^ 

Different  Views  of  this  Faculty. — Contemplated  in  the  light  last 
mentioned,  the  faculty  of  conception  ha*,  by  some  eminent  writers  on 
intellectual  philosophy,  been  considered  as  identical  with  memory; 
while,  by  others,  its  definite  action  on  forms  furnished  by  imagination, 
has  been  regarded  as  identifying  it  with  that  faculty.  Hence,  we  read 
of  the  "conceptions  of  memory,"  and  the  "conceptions  of  imagina 
tion."  A  third  class  of  authors  treating  of  intellectual  topics, 
evidently  regard  conception  as  simply  an  act  of  the  understanding. 

The  unsatisfactory  character  of  popular  usage  in  our  own  tongue, 
as  regards  the  application  of  language  to  mental  phenomena,  is  strik 
ingly  exhibited  in  the  several  arbitrary  senses  in  which  the  term 
"  conception  "  is  used,  as  suggesting  imperfection,  dimness,  or  remote 
ness  in  the  objects  or  subjects  of  contemplation.  We  can  not,  there 
fore,  rely  on  any  consentaneous  use  of  nomenclature  as  a  guide  to 
the  character  or  action  of  the  faculty  in  question.  Adverting,  how 
ever,  to  the  highly  suggestive  etymological  sense  of  the  term  "  con 
ception,"  as  it  has  been  employed  in  the  metaphysical  vocabulary  of 
all  nations,  for  successive  ages,  we  find  the  susceptive  intellect  figura 
tively  represented  by  it  as — when  in  the  Act  of  forming  idea\ — impreg 
nated,  or  fertilized,  not  only  from  the  various  sources  of  intelligence 
furnished  by  the  external  world  of  perception  and  the  interior  spheres 
of  feeling  and  imagination,  but  as  possessing  a  self-vivifying  power  of 
creating  and  contemplating  an  inner  world  of  its  own,  more  or  less 
analogous  to  that  without,  though  formed  of  materials  purely  intel 
lectual  and  spiritual ; — a  condition  which  is  exemplified  in  the 
exercises  of  its  own  conscious  intuition,  in  the  sequences  of  thought, 
and  in  the  processes  of  reasoning.  Nor  is  the  independent  power  of 
this  faculty  in  any  case  more  distinctly  perceptible  than  when,  bor 
rowing  the  congenial  aid  of  reason,  it  inspires  with  intelligence,  and 
moulds  into  symmetry  the  fluctuating  forms  of  imagination  which 
hover  in  the  ideal  atmosphere. 

This  strictly  interior  power  of  the  rnind  may  be  regarded  as  the 
first  step  in  its  consciously  reflective  action,  in  which, — not  as  in  the 
partly  involuntary  condition  of  mere  remembrance  or  recollection,  it 
is  comparatively  passive,  or  works  under  a  law  of  necessity, — but  vol 
untarily  and  deliberately  cooperates  with  impressions  received  from 
without,  with  a  consciousness  of  their  tendencies  and  of  its  own  action. 
It  is  this  power  which  virtually  confers  on  man  a  world  of  his  own, 
— an  intelligent  sphere  of  activity,  independent,  for  the  time,  of  the 
external  universe  in  which  he  moves, — a  sphere  in  which  his  higher 
intellectual  and  moral  nature  has  its  appropriate  scope.  The  strength, 
the  clearness,  and  the  precision  with  which  this  faculty  acts,  deter 
mine  his  rank  in  the  scale  of  intelligence  and  moral  power. 


108  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Its  Susceptibility  of  Cultivation. — In  the  relations  of  educational 
culture,  the  exercise  of  this  faculty  becomes  a  subject  of  deepest  in 
terest  to  those  whose  office  it  is  to  train  the  mind  to  true  and  effective 
habits  of  action.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  give  a  more  impressive  view 
of  the  benefits  of  proper  cultivation,  or  of  the  susceptibility  of  this 
faculty  to  the  influence  of  culture,  than  the  contrast  between  the  fee 
ble  and  futile  efforts  of  the  child  to  form  an  adequate  conception  of 
the  causes  of  the  most  ordinary  phenomena  of  daily  life,  and  the  com 
prehensive  grasp  of  conceptive  intelligence  with  which  the  mature 
mind  of  man  reads  the  great  volume  of  facts  and  their  relations,  and 
interprets  their  most  hidden  laws.  A  similar  contrast  is  exhibited  to 
us  in  the  wondering  ignorance  of  the  savage,  contemplating  the  vary 
ing  aspects  of  nature,  and  the  man  of  science,  to.  whom  they  present 
themselves  as  necessary  results,  thoroughly  understood,  and  as  veri 
fications  of  philosophic  theory. 

The  mere  perceptions  of  the  child  or  of  the  savage  may  often  be 
more  exact  than  those  of  the  philosopher,  because  these  depend  on 
the  freshness  and  vividness  of  sensation.  But  the  conceptive  power  of 
the  mind  is,  to  a  great  extent,  the  result  of  the  force  of  processes 
purely  mental,  and  the  skill  and  exactness  with  which  these  are  con 
ducted.  In  such  operations,  practice  and  discipline  alone  can  yield 
perfection  as  a  result ;  and  for  success  in  them  the  candidate  must 
look  to  the  sustaining  aid  and  the  crowning  hand  of  education. 

If  we  would  form  even  the  humblest  idea  of  the  mental  value  of 
the  power  of  conception,  we  must  refer  to  all  that  man  has  achieved 
in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  or  the  attainment  of  truth  ;  we  must 
advert  to  all  the  relations  which  he  sustains  to  things  Iving  beyond 
the  sphere  of  sense,  in  the  wide  regions  of  opinion,  of  theory,  and  of 
sentiment;  we  must  include  his  views  of  his  own  position  in  the  uni 
verse,  his  views  of  the  character  of  Deity,  of  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  of  the  obligations  of  duty,  of  his  social  and  civil  life,  and  of 
all  the  institutions  to  which  his  conceptions  of  these  various  relations 
have  given  origin. 

It  is  in  these  wider  and  higher  references  that  conception,  as  a 
power  of  reflective  intelligence,  indicates  its  peculiar  rank  and  office. 
Working  by  the  blended  lights  of  reason  and  of  consciousness,  it  en 
ables  man  to  construct  the  fabrics  of  science  and  of  character,  by  a 
consecutive  progress  of  attainments  in  which  every  deposit  becomes 
but  a  substratum  for  another  in  the  series  of  an  indefinite  succession. 

(3.)  CONSCIOUSNESS:  Etymology  of  the  Term. — The  etymologi 
cal  signification  of  this  term  invites  our  attention  for  a  moment,  to  tho 
peculiar  suggestive  value  of  the  first  clement  in  the  composition  of 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  JQ9 

the  word.  Primitively,  the  meaning  of  this  element  is  fully  given  by 
the  equivalent  term  together,  always  implying  a  reference  to 
duality  or  plurality.  It  ranges,  accordingly,  over  the  whole  class  of 
synonyms  which  may  be  grouped  under  the  terms,  "collation," 
"  apposition,"  u  union."  In  the  use,  therefore,  of  the  term  "  con 
sciousness," — since  the  root  of  the  word  signifies  knowledge,  or  intel 
ligence, — the  mind  is  represented  as  acting  together  with,  or  in  union 
with,  itself — that  is,  with  self -intelligence.  The  prefix  of  the  term, 
in  this  instance,  accordingly,  as  in  that  of  the  word  "  conception,"  has 
the  virtual  significance  of  inner,  inward,  or  interior,  and  suggests  the 
idea  of  the  mind  acting  on  itself,  on  the  objects  of  its  own  creation, 
or  on  the  subjects  of  its  own  reflective  conceptions. 

Fitness  of  its  Application. — There  is  a  striking  appropriateness, 
in  this  view,  of  the  term  "  consciousness  "  as  a  designation  for  that 
power  by  which  the  mind  becomes  capable  of  momentarily  detaching, 
as  it  were,  from. itself  the  idea  of  its  contemplation,  and  working  as  a 
two-fold  power ;  one  effort  of  which  is  to  hold  up  the  ideal  object,  and 
the  other  to  direct  a  wakeful  and  conscious  attention  to  it,  for  some 
purpose  of  examination  or  reflective  inquiry.  The  intelligent  princi 
ple  thus  works — according  to  the  interpretation  of  the  term — together 
with,  or  in  union  with  itself,  in  the  compound  or  two-fold  action  of 
conception,  and  attention ;  the  latter  being  introverted,  so  that  the 
mind  is  aware  of  its  own  condition. 

The  peculiar  fitness  of  the  term  in  question  becomes  yet  more  dis 
tinctly  apparent,  when  we  advert  to  the  common  fact  of  experience, 
that,  in  the  outward  tendencies  of  the  faculty  of  perception,  the  at 
traction  of  external  objects  is  often  so  powerful  and  absorbing  as  to 
cause  the  mind  to  "lose  its  consciousness"  in  the  contemplation  of 
what  it  beholds,  and  to  forget,  for  a  time,  its  own  existence,  in  the 
force  of  the  attraction  by  which  it  is  evoked,  or  the  intensity  of  the 
excitement  to  which  it  is  subjected,  and  which  it  temporarily  identifies 
with  the  object  of  its  attention.  In  the  state  of  consciousness,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  mind  is  self-possessed ;  it  is  aware  of  its  own 
state  of  thought  or  feeling,  and  voluntarily  dwells  on  the  fact  of 
introversion. 

Different  Opinions  on  the  Nature  of  this  Faculty. — Consciousness, 
as  a  term  applied  to  the  designation  of  a  mental  faculty  of  the  re 
flective  c^ass,  is,  like  many  other  terms  in  the  nomenclature  of  intel 
lectual  analysis,  a  confessedly  imperfect  yet  significant  attempt  to  sug 
gest  a  perfect  recoginition  of  an  act  or  state  purely  internal.  The 
imperfection  here  felt,  attends  more  or  less  obviously,  yet  unavoidably, 
every  attempt  to  define  the  action  of  mind, — that  transcendent  power 


HO  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

whose  subtle  agency  often  proves  too  fine  for  the  grasp  of  its  human 
representative,  language,  an  interpreter  whose  terms  are  all,  in 
consequence  of  the  limitations  of  humanity,  "of  the  earth,  earthy." 

The  diversity  of  opinion  among  intellectual  philosophers,  therefore, 
on  the  nature  of  this  power,  is  not  surprising.  Some  would  ignore 
its  existence  as  a  cognizable  faculty,  and  identify  it  with  the  mere  re 
flex  act  of  attention  ;  others  elaborate  its  action  in  detail,  so  as  to 
identify  it  with  voluntary  and  prolonged  reflection.  Both  these 
classes  of  observers  evidently  take  the  ground  that  it  is  dependent  on 
the  exercise,  more  or  less  active,  of  the  will.  But  the  painful  act  of 
consciousness  in  the  experience  of  corporal  or  mental  suffering,  is 
often  altogether  involuntary,  and  resists,  sometimes,  the  strongest  ef 
forts  of  the  will,  even  in  the  loftiest  moods  of  heroism  itself;  and  the 
intellectual  attraction  of  a  mathematical  problem,  or  a  metaphysical 
question,  will  fascinate  the  conscious  thinker,  and  draw  him  on  invol 
untarily,  from  stage  to  stage  of  its  processes,  till,  in  the  poet's 
language,  he  "  forgets  himself  to  marble." 

Other  authorities  on  topics  of  intellectual  philosophy,  have  deemed 
it  more  rational  to  assume  that  consciousness  is  an  inseparable  attri 
bute  of  intelligence, — necessary  to  its  very  existence.  They  represent 
it  as  the  element  which  constitutes  the  dividing  line  between  thought 
and  mere  reverie,  between  judgment  and  imagination,  or,  sometimes, 
between  reason  and  insanity. 

Educational  View  of  this  Faculty.— For  the  preliminary  analysis 
which  the  intelligent  conductor^ of  education  requires  as  his  guide  in 
the  planning  of  his  procedure,  it  is  sufficient,  perhaps,  to  take  the  ac 
knowledged  ground  that  consciousness  is  that  state,  act,  or  operation 
of  the  mind  in  which  it  is  aware  of  its  own  activity.  He  will,  from 
this  view  of  the  subject,  derive  two  most  important  conclusions:  (1,) 
that  the  vividness  and  distinctness  of  consciousness  must  always  be  in 
proportion  to  the  clearness,  exactness,  and  force  of  the  ideas  which 
are,  so  to  speak,  impressed  on  the  mind  from  without,  and  solicit  its 
conscious  action  as  subjects  of  thought ;  and  (2,)  that  the  definite- 
ness,  the  fullness,  and  the  depth  of  consciousness,  must  always  be  in 
proportion  to  the  power  of  directing  and  controlling  the  attention  of 
the  mind  with  reference  to  its  own  inward  acts  and  conditions. 

Intellectual  and  Moral  Office*  of  Consciousness. — It  is  thus  that 
consciousness  assumes  its  true  place  as  a  reflective  faculty,  in  the  re 
lations  of  intellect,  as  the  power  by  which  the  mind  learns  to  see 
clearly  with  its  own  inner  eye,  to  define  with  accuracy  the  ideas  which 
conception  creates,  to  interpret  nature's  innermost  secrets  of  causation, 
to  follow  the  lengthening  processes  of  reason,  in  the  profoundest  depths 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  Jjj 

of  investigation,  and  so  to  construct  the  magnificent  fabrics  of  pure 
science.  The  reflective  power  of  consciousness  becomes  yet  moie  im 
pressive  to  us,  when  we  regard  its  vast  influence  on  the  moral  rela 
tions  of  mental  action.  It  then  reveals  itself  as  an  agent  but  a  little 
lower  than  the  divine  element  of  conscience,  and  as  the  very  condition 
of  the  paramount  influence  of  that  power  over  heart,  will,  action,  and 
character.  In  the  unconscious  condition  of  childhood,  and  in  the 
immaturity  of  experience,  conscience  moves  with  the  light  step,  and 
the  gentle  hand  and  the  soft  accents  of  the  guiding  angel  of  Inno 
cence.  But  it  watches  with  a  jealous  eye,  restrains  with  a  firm  hand, 
controls  with  the  tone  of  command,  or  rebukes  with  the  voice  of  re 
proach,  the  conscious  agent  who,  in  maturity  of  years,  departs  from 
the  path  of  rectitude.  But  not  in  the  stern  monitions  or  the  agoniz 
ing  inflictions  of  remorse  alone,  does  conscience  act  on  consciousness. 
The  sting  and  the  lash  are  not  its  only  implements  of  discipline. 
Conscience  appeals  to  man's  conscious  power  for  good,  when  it  uses 
"  the  spur  which  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise,"  and  reminds  him  of  his 
position  "  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,"  his  resources  of  intel 
lect,  his  moral  ability,  his  relations  of  duty,  his  capacity  of  ceaseless 
progress,  his  desire  to  win  the  crown  of  excellence,  his  obligations  to  the 
Author  of  his  being,  and  his  aspirations  after  an  immortality  of  glory. 

Educational  Culture  of  this  Faculty. — The  educator,  therefore, 
while  he  would  guard  his  pupils  against  that  selfish  and  morbid  con 
sciousness  which  dwells  exclusively  on  the  condition  of  the  individual, 
and  keeps  him  forever  in  the  abstracted  mood  of  introspection  and  in 
troversion,  shut  up  in  the  cell  of  self,  and  withdrawn  from  usefulness 
to  others,  will  use  all  salutary  measures  to  give  vigor  and  life  and  full 
activity  to  this  powerful  element  of  mental  action  and  character. 

(4.)  REASON  :  Explanatory  Remark. — The  successive  changes 
which,  in  the  progress  of  time,  are  produced  on  the  original  meanings  of 
words,  will  sometimes  render  a  literal  adoption  of  the  primitive  sense 
of  any  term  an  uncertain  guide  in  metaphysical  investigations  con 
nected  with  the  action  and  phenomena  of  mind.  A  due  regard,  how 
ever,  to  the  etymological  structure  of  terms  employed  to  designate 
the  intellectual  faculties,  will  always  serve  to  suggest  useful  ideas  for 
the  guidance  and  direction  of  education.  Such  terms,  it  is  not  to  be 
forgotten,  had  their  origin  in  simple  and  primitive  states  of  human 
life  and  character,  and  are  therefore  exempt  from  the  uncertainty  and 
ambiguity  resulting  from  the  mental  condition  of  more  advanced 
stages  of  society,  in  which  opinion  is  refined,  by  false  as  well  as  true 
culture,  into  more  subtle  and  more  sceptical  forms,  and  sometimes 
tails  into  the  entangling  web  of  sophistry  and  false  judgment.  The 


U2  CULTIVATION  Uf  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

primitive  uses  of  language  betray,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  the  his 
torical  childhood  of  man  ;  but  they  possess,  also,  the  truthfulness, 
the  simplicity,  and  the  directness  of  that  stage ;  and  their  vivacious 
and  figurative  character  always  render  them  strikingly  .suggestive. 
In  philosophic  investigations  connected  with  the  analytic  study  of 
mind  and  the  adaptation  of  modes  of  culture  to  mental  discipline  and 
development,  the  primitive  signification  of  terms,  whether  it  be  literal 
or  figurative,  becomes,  at  least,  an  index  to  analysis,  which,  if  faith 
fully  traced,  may  lead  to  true  and  satisfactory  conclusions  on  topics 
otherwise  obscure  and  uncertain. 

Etymology  of  the  Term. — To  apply  this  remark  to  the  instance  be 
fore  us.  Clearer  conceptions  and  juster  views  of  the  faculty  which  we 
designate  by  the  term  "  reason,"  would  generally  prevail,  and  would 
exert  a  corresponding  influence  on  modes  of  mental  culture,  were  the 
original  meaning  of  the  word  adverted  to  in  discussions  connected 
with  these  subjects.  The  word  "  reason  "  is  but  the  Latin  scientific 
term  "  ratio"  so  familiar  to  the  ear  and  mind  of  every  teacher  and  every 
student  of  mathematics.  It  has  merely  undergone  some  slight  modifi- 
catioiisin  passing  from  the  Latin  language,  through  the  French,  into  our 
own.  Its  original  sense,  therefore,  suggests  the  idea  of  rate,  measure, 
or  commutation,  as  a  conscious  application,  or  act,  of  intelligence  ; 
and  if  we  would  trace  the  simplest  and  purest  form  of  reason,  we 
thus  find  it  in  the  act  of  recognizing  or  constituting  rate,  or  ratio, 
which  in  complicated  processes,  becomes  proportion,  or  symmetry. 

Reason  characterized  by  the  Drfinitenessand  Certainty  of  its  Action. 
— The  idea  suggested  by  the  primary  application  of  the  term  "  reason," 
is  that  of  dfjiniteness  and  exactness  of  observation,  carried  even  to 
the  extent  of  examination  by  actual  measurement  or  computation.  No 
certainty  of  knowledge  can  be  greater  than  what  is  thus  intimated, 
when  the  inner  action  of  intellect  is  verified  by  a  direct  appeal  to  ob 
jective  reality  attested  by  sense;  and,  in  the  legitimate  uses  of  lan 
guage,  the  measured  exactness  of  verified  observation  is  figuratively 
transferred  to  the  decisions  of  judgment  and  the  deductions  of  reason, 
in  the  comparison  and  examination  of  ideas  and  conceptions  begun, 
continued,  and  ended,  within  the  mind  itself. 

The  processes  of  thought  conducted  on  this  firm  ground,  possess  a 
definiteness  which  places  the  conclusions  of  reason  in  striking  contrast 
with  the  comparatively  vague  and  indefinite  intimations  of  feeling, 
around  which  the  boundary  line  of  distinction  can  not  with  certainty 
be  drawn,  even  in  the  most  vivid  states  of  consciousness.  The  ideas 
of  reason  stand  thus  contrasted,  also,  with  those  of  imagination, 
which  are  often  shadowy  and  indefinite,  inexact,  or  inadequate,  and 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  H3 

always  comparatively  fleeting  and  uncertain ; — sometimes,  unreal  and 
false,  the  mere  flitting  phantoms  of  fancy.  The  purely  intellectual 
conceptions  of  reason,  as  subjects  of  the  mind's  own  inner  conscious 
ness,  are,  yet  further,  distinguished  from  the  merely  perceptive  action 
of  sense  and  understanding,  in  the  relations  of  intelligence  directed  to 
the  external  world.  Reason,  working  on  data  strictly  mental,  ever 
partakes  of  the  certainty  of  personal  knowledge  and  conviction,  which, 
to  the  individual, — whatever  it  may  be  to  others, — is,  in  its  proper 
relations,  the  surest  of  all  the  grounds  of  mental  action.  Our  senses, 
we  are  aware,  may  misinform  us  :  our  conscious  experience  can  not. 

Offices  of  Reason  in  Definition  and  Discrimination. — This  faculty, 
by  the  measured  accuracy  of  its  action,  becomes  the  means  of  defining 
our  ideas  and  discriminating  them  in  differential  detail.  It  groups 
them  in  the  genera  and  species  of  orderly  classification,  and  analyses 
the  complex  into  the  simple,  even  to  the  minutest  individual  element 
of  the  compound.  It  thus  enables  the  mind  to  search  and  scrutinize 
the  obscure  or  the  uncertain,  till  every  object  is  brought  out  into  the 
light  of  certainty  and  conscious  knowledege.  In  these,  as  in  all  other 
forms  in  which  this  faculty  is  exerted,  the  appropriateness  of  the  pri 
mary  application  of  the  term  by  which  it  is  designated,  is  distinctly 
perceived.  In  all  its  operations,  it  is  stable,  sure,  exact,  to  absolute 
certainty.  It  was  in  virtue  of  its  authority  that  the  great  modern 
philosopher  "  carried,"  as  has  been  happily  said,  "  the  measuring  line 
•to  the  boundary  of  creation;"  and  all  its  inward  and  conscious 
exercises  partake  of  the  same  exactitude. 

Reason,  an  Authoritative  Power. — When  this  faculty  condescends 
to  its  humbler  offices  of  recognizing  the  intimations  of  sense,  and  ac 
cumulating  the  deposits  of  knowledge,  and  maintains  a  comparatively 
quiescent,  receptive,  or  passive  condition,  it  bears  the  unassuming 
designation  of  "  understanding  ;"  as  it  is  then  regarded  as  merely  fur 
nishing  the  groundwork,  or  under  stratum,  of  intelligence.  But 
when  it  assumes  the  higher  office  of  deciding  on  and  determining  the 
exact  relations  of  thought,  it  is  honored  by  the  highly  figurative  ap 
pellation  of  "  judgment" — a  term  the  etymology  of  which  implies  the 
enunciation  of  right,  or  justice,  and  hence,  whatever,  also,  is  implied 
in  its  synonyms,  decree,  sentence,  or  decision.  Reason,  when  thus  oc 
cupied  in  comparing,  measuring,  or  exactly  estimating  things  or  their 
relations,  is,  by  the  use  of  language,  personified  as  the  judge,  whose 
office  it  is  to  scrutinize,  compare,  and  balance  evidence,  so  as  ultimate 
ly  to  decide  or  determine,  and  give  judgment,  sentence,  or  decree,  accord 
ing  to  the  usage  of  ancient  times,  when  it  was  that  officer's  preroga 
tive  to  discharge  the  office  ass'gned  to  our  modern  juries,  as  well  as 

1  H 


114  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE   FACULTIES. 

that  still  recognized  as  proper  to  Lira  who  presides  in  the  court  of 
justice. 

When  this  master  faculty  of  human  intelligence  soars  to  a  yet  high 
er  pitch,  and  its  action,  whether  "  intuitive  or  discursive,"  embraces 
great  and  general  principles,  sees  or  traces  the  relations  of  necessary 
and  universal  truths,  and  announces  the  majesty  of  causation  and  of 
law,  it  resumes  its  wonted  designation  of  reason, — a  term  too  limited 
for  the  scope  and  grandeur  of  its  action,  and  the  dignity  of  its  office, 
as  man's  highest  functions,  in  the  relations  of  intellect. 

True,  it  fails  whenever  it  would  usurp  the  appointed  place  of  con 
science,  and  reason  man  into  perfect  rectitude,  or  when  it  presumes  to 
supersede  the  guardian  office  of  faith,  and  offers  man  the  guidance  of 
mere  intellection  to  the  recognition  of  a  paternal  God.  But,  limited 
as  it  is,  by  the  conditions  of  humanity,  it  still  is,  within  the  sphere  of 
pure  intelligence,  that  which  reflects  in  man  the  image  of  God,  and 
to  which,  in  healthy  and  normal  conditions,  all  his  other  intellectual 
powers  pay  homage. 

Reason  as  cognizant  of  Relations. — Reverting  to  the  primitive 
sense  of  the  term  "reason,"  as  recognized  in  the  application  of  the 
word  "ratio"  to  processes  of  measurement  connected  with  time  and 
space,  and  figuratively  transferred  to  operations  purely  intellectual, 
we  are  reminded  that,  in  all  such  processes,  one  object  or  subject  is 
referred  to  another,  with  a  view  to  determine  or  define  a  connection 
of  some  sort  or  other  between  them.  This  fact  accounts  fur  the  usage 
in  language  by  which  reason  is  represented  as  the  faculty  which 
takes  cognizance  of,  or  traces,  relations  in  general,  or,  in  other  words, 
refers  one  thing  to  another,  fur  purposes  of  examination,  comparison, 
or  investigation,  with  a  view  to  ascertain  their  connection,  or  their 
independence  of  each  other,  as  an  element  of  thought  essential  to  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  or  to  the  discovery  of  truth.  The  mind  is 
thus  introduced  into  a  sphere  of  action  coextensive  with  all  the  out 
ward  objects  and  inward  subjects  of  thought,  and  expatiates,  with  tho 
delight  of  conscious  freedom  and  power,  in  the  two  great  domains 
with  which  it  is  endowed  as  its  heritage  and  birth-right ;  for  reason, 
not  less  than  imagination  is  an  excursive  faculty,  designed  to  give 
amplitude  and  expansion  to  the  being  of  man ;  and  many  of  the 
grandest  creations  of  the  latter,  are  those  which  it  achieves  when  fol 
lowing  the  sure  and  firm  steps  of  the  former,  in  its  excursions  into  the 
unexplored. 

Reason  as  an  Inventive  Faculty. — The  reference  of  one  object  or 
idea  to  another,  the  comparison  of  one  with  another,  or  the  discovered 
relation  of  one  to  another,  vields  within  the  mind  itself,  as  a  result,  a 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  H5 

third  idea,  or  conception,  a  creation  of  its  own.  Reason  thus  becomes 
a  combining,  creative,  and  inventive,  (finding,)  faculty,  not  less  than 
imagination  is,  in  its  peculiar  sphere;  and,  by  following  its  well  as 
certained  discoveries  through  their  long  and  complicated  successions 
of  ever  fresh-springing  truth,  attains,  at  length,  the  conscious  power 
to  move  in  new  spheres  of  knowledge,  created  by  its  own  activity, 
and  in  which  it  furnishes  its  own  material,  and  erects  its  own  structures. 
It  is  thus  that  it  empowers  man  to  fulfill  the  poet's  condition  of 
"  erecting  himself  above  himself."  Reason,  not  less  than  its  noble 
kindred  powers,  Faith  and  Imagination,  is  then  justly  said  to  "  soar." 

In  the  processes  of  investigation  in  which  the  mind  pursues  its 
quest  of  knowledge  as  the  guide  to  truth,  reason  becomes  the  master 
key  of  intelligence,  the  paramount  authority  of  intellect,  the  law 
which  gives  order  and  unity  to  man's  intellectual  being,  the  crown, 
and  glory  of  humanity  in  its  distinctive  supremacy  over  the  lower 
tribes  of  partially  intelligent  nature. 

Aberration  of  Reason. — When  disease  or  passion  has  beclouded, 
or  disturbed,  or  deranged  this  power,  which  heaven  has  ordained  as  the 
executive  of  its  own  first  law  of  order,  in  the  gradations  of  intelligence, 
man  is  then  dethroned  and  discrowned  ;  and,  with  the  eye  of  his  mind 
extinguished,  wanders,  like  the  blind  champion  of  old,  seeking  some 
one  to  lead  him  by  the  hand. 

Reason  in  the  processes  of  Analysis  and  Abstraction. — When  this 
faculty  is  occupied  with  the  processes  of  collating  and  comparing,  for 
purposes  of  discrimination,  its  action  assumes  the  form  of  "  analysis," 
(loosening,  detaching,  or  resolving,)  so  as  to  simplify  the  objects  or 
subjects  of  contemplation,  and  scan  their  utmost  details  of  individual 
ity-,  in  character,  that  the  component  elements  of  the  concrete  may  be 
distinctly  recognized,  in  all  their  differential  relations.  Subjected  to 
this  process,  the  genus,  or  general  class,  is  reduced  to  its  component 
species,  and  these,  in  turn,  to  the  varieties  or  the  individuals  of  which 
they  consist.  Last  of  all,  the  scrutiny  must  be  extended  to  the  differ 
ence  between  individual  and  individual,  or  where  still  more  minute  ex 
amination  is  required,  to  the  distinctive  elements  which  may  be  found 
comprised  within  the  unity  of  the  individual. 

Such,  in  our  previous  discussion  of  subjects  involved  in  the  theory 
of  education,  we  found  to  be  the  requisite  action  of  the  mind  in  the 
exercise  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  when  observation  descends  to  the 
minutiae  of  difference  on  which  true  distinctions  are  founded.  A  sim 
ilar  operation  goes  on  in  the  interior  world  of  conception,  when  the 
reflective  faculties  are  called  into  their  peculiar  province,  when  the  com 
plex  ideas  or  thoughts  of  the  mind  are  subjected  to  the  processes  of 


HQ  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES 

scrutiny  and  analysis,  and  the  qualities  of  objects,  or  of  ideas,  are,  by 
an  act  of  abstraction,  (taking  away,  withdrawing,)  considered  sepa 
rately,  as  if  they  had  for  the  moment,  an  independent  existence. 
One  quality  of  an  object,  one  attribute  of  a  subject,  is,  by  this  concen 
trated  and  exclusive  act  of  attention,  "  abstracted,"  (drawn  away,)  or 
detached,  mentally,  from  the  object  itself,  and  from  all  the  other 
qualities  of  which  it  is  possessed.  The  mind  is,  in  consequence  of  this 
act  of  "  abstraction,"  enabled  to  contemplate  more  distinctly,  or  to 
examine  more  closely  and  discriminate  more  exactly,  the  given  quality. 
The  quality  so  discriminated  may,  in  turn,  become  the  groundwork 
of  classification,  or  the  commencement  of  a  train  of  abstract  reason- 
in^  ou  broad  and  general  principles  connected  with  the  laws  of  nature 
and  the  truths  of  science. 

Intuition. — The  immediate  action  of  reason  by  which  it  assents  to 
self-evident  and  necessary  truths,  on  mere  "intuition,"  (inspection  or 
sight,)  without  the  aid  of  any  intermediate  or  intervening  thought  for 
the  discovery  of  sameness  or  difference,  might,  at  first  view,  seem  to 
be  improperly  introduced  in  a  survey  of  the  reflective  faculties  or  of 
educational  processes  for  development.  But,  the  intuitive  exercise  of 
reason  is,  not  unfrequently,  the  basis  of  its  reflective  action,  and,  some 
times,  is  the  authority  to  which  it  appeals,  when  prosecuting  examina 
tion  and  inquiry  to  the  profoundest  depths  of  research. 

Processes  of  Inference  and  Deduction. — Reason,  as  die  faculty  by 
which  one  object  or  idea  is  referred  to  another,  in  virtue  of  some  real 
or  supposed  connection  existing  between  them,  takes  cognizance  of 
antecedence  and  consequence;  and,  when  this  relation  is,  in  given 
circumstances,  observed  to  be  uniform,  reason,  working  by  the  great 
law  of  analogy,  "  infers,"  (brings  in,)  the  continuance  of  this  uniformity 
as  a  necessary  principle  or  law  of  order.  In  such  instances,  this 
"  inference,"  supported  by  the  undeviating  testimony  of  personal  or 
accredited  experience,  becomes  a  firm  belief,  which  identifies  uni 
formity  of  antecedence  with  the  power  of  causation,  and  uniformity  of 
sequence  with  the  character  of  effect.  Sequence  thus  becomes  the  law 
of  rational  connection,  and  a  security  for  the  attainment  of  truth  in 
matters  of  theory  referring  to  the  external  universe. 

In  the  consecutive  internal  acts  of  mind,  reason  gives  "sequence" 
to  the  relations  of  thought,  in  exercises  purely  discursive  and  intellec 
tual,  by  recognizing  the  dependence  of  one  idea  or  conception  on  an 
other,  in  the  relation  of  effect  to  cause.  From  one  defined  antecedent 
idea  the  mind  is  authorized  to  "  infer"  another,  as  a  consequence  ;  from 
"premises,"  (thoughts  antecedent,)  to  "deduce,"  (draw  down,  derive,) 
"conclusions,"  (closes,)  results,  or  final  consequences;  and  thus,  by 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  11y 

giving  certainty  to  opinion  and  assurance  to  belief,  in  relations  purely 
mental,  it  forges  the  successive  I'.nks  of  that  golden  chain  of  intellectual 
necessity  which  binds  together  the  elements  of  the  moral  world. 

Reason,  in  its  processes  of  Generalization  and  Induction. — In  the 

wider  action  of  this  sovereign  power,  it  takes  that  highest  course  of 

which  human  intellect  is  capable  ;  and,  in  tracing  the  relations  of 

^^atusation,  aspires,  by  its  power  of  generalization  and  its  processes  of 

IQrnduction,  to  announce  and  interpret  the  laws  of  the  universe,  and  to 

read  the  evidences  of  a  First  ordaining  Cause. 

In  these  excursions,  reason  gathers  in,  from  the  vast  field  of  anal 
ogy,  corresponding  facts  and  relations ;  and,  in  virtue  of  that  pervad 
ing  unity  which  comparison  has  enabled  it  to  discover  as  existing 
among  them,  recognizes  that  spacious  principle  of  generality  coexten 
sive  with  its  own  capacities  of  thought,  by  which  it  rises  above  the 
limits  of  the  concrete  and  the  particular  to  the  contemplation  of  those 
abstract  ideas  and  comprehensive  principles  which  constitute  the 
prime  elements  of  intellectual  and  moral  truth,  and  which  bear  the 
stamp  of  supremacy  and  the  inscription  of  Law,  human  or  Divine. 

Not  less  impressive  or  sublime  is  the  action  of  this  august  faculty 
of  the  human  soul,  when  it  puts  forth  its  constructive  power,  and, 
aided  by  the  scrutiny  of  patient  experiment,  it  verifies  the  analogies 
of  phenomena  and  of  fact,  "  inducts  "  them,  (leads  them,)  into  their  ap 
propriate  groups  of  affinity  and  correlation,  plies  them  with  its  tenta 
tive,  magnetic,  aggregating  power  of  "  hypothesis,"  (theoretic,  inter 
rogative  assumption,}  and,  by  careful  induction,  at  last  consummates 
the  vast  fabric  of  "  theory,"  (intellectual  vision,}  whose  foundations 
are  laid  in  the  certainty  of  knowledge,  and  whose  walls  rise,  in  the 
symmetry  of  truth,  to  heights  which  inspire  the  mind  with  awe. 

Ratiocination. — In  the  dimness  of  abstract  conceptions,  in  the  ob 
scurity  of  abstruse  relations  of  thought,  or  in  the  apparent  conflict  of 
contrasted  truths,  when  the  eviction  of  hidden  causes,  or  when  the 
detection  of  intermediate  and  reconciling  principles,  becomes  essential 
to  the  conscious  recognition  of  ideas,  to  the  distinct  conception  of  re 
lations,  or  to  the  firm  conviction  of  truth,  reason  comes  to  the  mind 
laboring  under  uncertainty,  and  brings  the  aid  of  its  discursive  pro 
cesses  of  ratiocination,  in  the  form  of  dissertation,  argument,  discus 
sion,  and  debate.  Assuming  the  seat  of  judgment,  it  thus  institutes 
inquiry,  conducts  examination,  prosecutes  investigation,  discriminates 
terms,  scrutinizes  allegations,  compares  conflicting  arguments,  weighs 
opposing  evidence,  judges  of  facts,  rejects  assumptions,  exposes  error, 
detects  truth  or  falsehood,  and  pronounces  its  authoritive  and  final 
decision,  as  the  inevitable  law  of  intellection. 


113  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Reason,  as  cognizant  of  Truth. — Reason,  in  its  judicial  capacity, 
traces,  or  recognizes  and  announces,  the  correspondence  or  the  dis 
crepance  of  idea  with  object,  thought  with  fact,  conception  with  con 
ception,  principle  with  principle,  proposition  with  proposition, 
sentiment  with  sentiment,  opinion  and  statement  with  fact,  language 
with  thought,  argument  with  argument,  effect  with  cause.  It  thus, 
by  the  eviction  of  truth,  produces  in  the  mind  the  result  of  convict* 
and  truth,  as  the  consummated  and  perfect  result  of  the  action 
reason,  in  its  cognizance  of  the  ascertained  relations  of  knowledt 
demands,  in  virtue  of  the  supremacy  and  authority  of  the  faculty  by 
whose  agency  it  is  discovered,  the  assent  of  the  mind,  in  the  form 
which  we  term  belief, — not  a  bare  comprehension  or  merely  passive 
reception  by  the  understanding,  not  the  mere  negative  acquiescence 
or  silent  admission  of  lh&  judgment,  but  the  consentaneous  recognition 
and  adoption  which  come  from  the  voluntary  action  of  reason,  uni 
ting  itself  with  the  subject  of  its  contemplation,  and  identifying  with 
it  all  its  own  consequent  action.  Reason,  therefore,  has  to  do  with 
all  the  preliminary  processes  by  which  truth  is  established  ;  and  in 
the  moral  not  less  than  in  the  intellectual  relations  of  thought,  has, 
for  its  office,  the  sifting  of  evidence,  the  scrutiny  of  testimony,  the 
weighing  of  proof ;  on  the  validity  of  all  which,  belief,  as  the  normal 
and  healthy  tendency  of  the  mind,  is  conditioned.  In  the  yet  higher 
sphere  of  Sacred  truth,  belief  becomes  subsidiary  to  the  Faith  which 
frusta. 

Heason,  as  susceptible  of  Cultivation. — As  the  subject' of  disciplin 
ary  culture,  this  faculty  presents  itself  to  the  educator  as  that  to  which 
his  chief  attention  is  due,  in  the  relations  of  intellect,  not  only  from 
its  supremacy  in  the  class  of  faculties  to  which  it  belongs,  and  the 
fact  of  its  being  the  very  constituent  of  intelligence,  but  from  its  pe 
culiar  susceptibility  of  development  and  training,  and  the  extent  to 
which  it  may  be  rendered  clear,  decisive,  vigorous,  and  comprehen 
sive,  by  appropriate  exercise.  No  faculty  reveals  more  distinctly  than 
this  the  progressive  character  of  man,  as  an  intelligent  agent,  if  we 
advert  to  its  dim,  uncertain,  and  feeble  action  in  childhood,  and  its 
ceaseless  growth  5a  soundness,  clearness,  and  vigor,  as  life  advances 
to  its  maturity.  But  when  we  contrast  the  reasoning  powers  of  such 
individuals  as  Newton,  Locke,  Butler,  or  Edwards,  in  manhood,  with 
the  mere  germ  of  latent  capability  which  they  possessed  in  infancy, 
we  perceive  yet  more  distinctly  what  education  may  accomplish  for 
the  eduction  and  strengthening  of  this  powerful  element  in  the 
mental  constitution  of  man. 

The  cultivation  of  this  faculty  becomes  yet  more  important  in  its 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  HQ 

results,  when  we  advert  to  its  value  in  the  relation  of  morals.  Reason 
is  naturally  the  firm  ally  of  conscience,  in  discriminating  between 
right  and  wrong,  and  in  instituting  those  reflective  trains  of  thought 
by  which  man  is  arrested  in  the  pursuit  of  sensual  gratification,  and 
called  home  to  himself,  in  the  conscious  exercise  of  higher  faculties, 
in  the  enjoyment  of  truer  satisfactions,  and  in  obedience  to  the  recti 
tude  which  he  feels  to  be  the  great  law  of  his  being.  Reason,  in  co 
operation  with  conscience,  then  becomes  the  regulating  principle  of 
his  actions ;  raising  them  from  mere  obedience  to  prudence  and 
judgment,  and  conservative  propriety,  to  the  higher  influences  of  self- 
intelligence,  consentaneous  action,  and  rational  conformity  with  the 
laws  and  conditions  of  his  own  nature,  and  of  the  Power  by  which 
those  laws  were  ordained.  Reason  is  the1  eye  by  which  he  learns  to 
read  the  volume  of  revelation, — whether  that  written  in  the  language 

•"5          & 

of  the  "elder  Scripture,"  which  speaks  of  the  "eternal  power  and 
godhead  of  the  Creator,"  or  that  of  the  recorded  Word  which  makes 
man  "wise  unto  salvation." 

(5.  and  6.)  JUDGMENT  AND  UNDERSTANDING  :  their  Identity  with 
Reason. — It  has  been  justly  remarked  by  an  eminent  writer  on  intel 
lectual  philosophy,  that,  in  arbitrarily  multiplying  the  number  of  fac 
ulties  attributed  to  the  mind,  we  confuse  our  own  views  of  mental 
action,  and  lose  rather  than  gain  by  such  uses  of  analysis.  In  the 
prosecution  of  our  present  inquiries,  it  will  be  recollected,  that  it  has 
been  uniformly  our  endeavor  to  keep  in  mind  the  absolute  unity  of 
intellection,  under  whatever  apparent  diversity  of  processes  it  con 
ducts  its  action;  and  the  preceding  observations  on  reason,  as  a  re 
flective  faculty,  have,  it  may  have  been  perceived,  presented  the 
operations  of  judgment  and  understanding  as  virtually  but  different 
functions  of  reason.  To  venture  on  a  figure  drawn  from  the  sciences 
of  observation :  Reason  may  be  regarded  as  bearing  the  relation  of 
44  genus  "  to  judgment  and  understanding  as  "  species."  Reason  sur 
veys  the  whole  ground  of  intellection,  whether  directed  outward  or 
inward ;  it  works  in  the  great  field  of  analogy,  and  on  the  common 
ground  of  correlation,  cotendency  and  consistency,  in  the  universal 
sphere  of  thought.  In  its  comprehensive  action,  it  proclaims  the 
harmonies  of  the  universe.  It  has  the  power,  therefore,  of  investiga 
ting  and  proving  analogies,  and,  consequently,  of  rejecting  discordant 
elements.  Descending  to  this  task,  reason  becomes,  in  the  vocabulary 
of  intellection,  "judgment."  Stooping  yet  lower,  to  trace  and  verify 
relations  of  humbler  value,  or  of  exterior  character,  or  processes  of 
passive  reception  of  knowledge  or  of  truth,  it  assumes  the  lower  office 
and  familiar  name  of  "  understanding." 


]20  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Maintaining  the  justness  of  this  definition  of  the  faculty  of  reason, 
we  would  not,  however,  overlook  the  fact,  so  important  to  the  right 
management  of  education,  that  the  more  clgsely  we  watch  the  oper 
ations  of  intellect,  the  more  searching  the  investigation,  and  the  more 
minute  our  analysis,  we  shall  be  the  better  prepared  to  minister  to 
the  manifold  wants  of  the  mind,  and  to  its  healthful  development. 
The  subdivision  of  reason  into  "judgment"  and  "understanding,"  if 
taken  as  merely  a  temporary  assumption  of  theory,  with  a  view  to 
fuller  provision  for  mental  action  and  discipline,  can  not  be  objected 
to ;  and,  indeed,  the  common  branches  of  useful  knowledge  and  of 
scientific  acquirement  which  constitute  the  material  and  media  of 
intellectual  education,  address  themselves  distinctively  to  that  classifi 
cation  of  the  mental  faculties  which  is  commonly  adopted  or  recog 
nized.  Of  these  we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak,  when  discussing  the 
modes  and  processes  of  culture.  Nor  can  any  detriment  to  a  just 
view  of  mind  as  subjected  to  invigorating  discipline,  arise  from  adopt 
ing,  for  the  time,  that  more  comprehensive  classification  of  the  forms 
of  mental  action,  which  is  now  proposed. 

An  extensive  course  of  study  in  every  department  of  mental  phil 
osophy,  can  not  be  too  earnestly  urged  on  the  attention  of  all  teachers 
who  are  so  situated  as  to  exert  a  controlling  or  directing  influence  on 
the  plan  of  education,  or  to  enjoy  adequate  opportunities  of  pursuing 
a  full  course  of  prof 'Ssional  reading.  No  serious  evil  will  in  this  way 
be  incurred,  even  if  the  teacher  become,  in  consequence  of  his  studies, 
the  disciple  of  a  particular  school  of  metaphysics  or  psychology  ; 
provided  he  do  not  lose  sight  of  the  gr<*at  fact  that,  as  a  teacher,  he 
is  called  to  work  as  a  personal  and  original  observer  of  the  actual 
workings  and  tendencies  of  the  young  mind  itself,  and,  as  its  guide 
and  director,  to  proceed  according  to  his  own  personal  observation 
and  convictions,  independently  of  all  theories  and  speculations  of  a 
merely  abstract  character. 

One  of  the  greatest  metaphysicians  of  modern  times* — who,  more 
than  any  writer  or  teacher  on  his  class  of  subjects,  is  entitled  to  the 
rank  of  an  authority — who,  to  a  depth  of  research  and  a  profound 
ness  of  learning  which  man  has  seldom  attained,  adds  the  simplicity, 
the  docility,  and  the  candor  of  a  child  in  the  attitude  of  inquiry — 
has  most  justly  said  to  the  student  of  mental  philosophy :  "  If  he  only 
effectively  pursue  the  method  of  observation  and  analysis,  he  may 
even  dispense  with  the  study  of  philosophical  systems.  This  is,  at 
best,  only  useful  as  a  mean  toward  a  deeper  and  more  varied  study 
of  himself,  and  is  often  only  a  tribute  paid  by  philosophy  to  erudi- 
*  Sir  William  Hamilton. 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  |21 

tion."  With  the  same  characteristic  frankness  he  remarks,  in  another 
connection,  that  psychology  (the  direct  study  of  mind)  is*  yet  incom 
plete  as  a  science;  since  the  phenomena  of  which  it  takes  cognizance 
have  not  yet  been  exhaustively  enumerated  or  defined,  and  speaks,  at 
the  same  time,  of  the  service  which,  in  this  respect,  might  be  rendered 
to  philosophy  by  adequate  investigation  and  faithful  reporting. 

To  so  noble  an  office  no  candidate  can  more  justly  aspire  than  the 
intelligent  teacher.  His  occupation  renders  him  conversant  with 
mind  in  its  purest  and  truest  states,  its  primal  tendencies  and  aspira 
tions,  its  incipient  endeavors,  and  forming  habits. 

II.    THE  ACTUATING  PRINCIPLE   OF  THE   REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES: 

INQUIRY. 

Its  analogy  to  Curiosity. — When  we  trace  the  natural  development 
of  the  human  faculties,  in  their  first  stage  of  perceptive  action,  we 
observe  them  working  by  a  law  of  incitement  manifesting  itself  in  the 
restless  principle  of  curiosity, — the  desire  of  knowledge.  It  is  this 
feeling  which  prompts  the  child's  appealing  question,  as  he  points  to 
a  new  object  that  has  attracted  his  attention, — "  What  is  this  ?''  But, 
as  his  reflective  power  developes,  and  his  capacity  of  knowledge 
enlarges,  his  desire  of  information  pierces  deeper ;  and  his  interroga 
tion  takes  a  shape  which  indicates  a  more  profound  exercise  of  thought. 
He  now  inquires  not "  What  is  this  ?" — but  "How"  or  "  Why  is  this  ?" 

Reason,  as  the  principle  of  intelligence  which  gleans  and  assorts  the 
contributions  of  knowledge,  has  helped  him  to  understand  the  exterior 
character  of  the  object  of  his  attention,  and  by  the  due  exercise  of 
judgment,  in  analytic  observation,  to  distinguish,  and  classify,  and 
denominate  it  accordingly.  But  a  deeper  thirst  than  mere  curiosity 
as  to  external  phenomena  and  characteristics,  now  actuates  him  :  a 
more  powerful  instinct  is  at  work  within  him.  Reason  has  reached 
a  maturer  stage  of  development,  and,  prompted  by  inquiry,  sets  out 
the  young  explorer  in  quest  not  of  mere  facts,  but  of  relations  and 
causes.  He  thus  learns  to  trace  the  successive  links  of  connected 
phenomena  and  facts, — to  investigate  the  connection  itself,  and  deter 
mine  its  character,  to  search  for  interior  and  hidden  springs  of  sequence, 
to  arrive  at  principles  and  causes,  to  read  and  interpret  laivs,  and, 
ultimately,  to  reach  the  certainty  and  the  completeness  of  science. 

The  appetite  of  curiosity  is  satisfied  with  the  knowledge  of  phenome 
na  and  of  facts  individually,  or  even  as  detached  matters  of  observa 
tion  :  inquiry  is  restless  ti'l  it  arrives  at  their  connections  and  depend 
encies,  and  the  mind  is  thus  put  in  possession  of  those  relations  of 
knowledge  which  constitute  principles  and  establish  truth.  As  an 
impelling  and  actuating  force,  inquiry,  or  inquisition,  performs  for  the 
intellectual  power?,  in  their  comparative  maturity,  the  same  genial 


122  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES 

office  which  was  discharged  by  the  awakening  influence  of  curiosity 
at  an  earlie*  stage  of  mental  activity.  It  is,  in  fact,  but  the  same 
instinctive  law  of  the  irrepressible  desire  to  know,  only  working  in  a 
higher  sphere,  and  for  a  higher  end.  Curiosity,  working  on  theper- 
ceptivc  faculties,  induces  a  tendency  to  observation,  and  forms  'the 
habit  of  wakeful  attention  to  external  phenomena,  as  the  elements  of 
KNOWLEDGE  :  inquiry,  as  the  expressed  desire  to  ascertain  relations, 
principles,  and  laws,  awakens  the  reflective  faculties,  and  impels  to 
investigation,  with  a  view  to  the  discovery  of  TRUTH.  In  the  develop 
ment  and  formation  of  mental  character,  curiosity,  as  the  desire  of 
knowledge,  tends  to  create  an  attentive  and  observing  mind,  character 
ized  by  intelligence :  inquiry,  as  the  quest  of  truth,  produces  a  con 
templative,  thoughtful,  reflective,  reasoning  mind,  addicted  to  explora 
tion  and  research,  and  delighting  in  the  attainments  of  science. 

But  in  this  higher  sphere  of  intellectual  activity,  the  human  being 
is  still  acting  under  the  guidance  of  an  implanted  instinct; — no 
longer,  indeed,  a  mere  unconscious  stimulus,  but  a  conscious  and 
recognized  impulse  of  progression  toward  a  definite  end  and  a  satisfy 
ing  consummation.  The  tendency,  however,  proves  itself  equallv 
irr  si>tible  in  the  one  form  as  in  the  other.  For,  while  the  child  is 
sometimes  so  absorbed  in  the  contemplati  >r\  of  the  visible  attractions 
of  objects  of  beauty  or  of  curiosity,  as  to  forego  even  the  calls  of  appe 
tite  for  the  sustenance  of  his  body,  in  obedience  to  the  more  imperious 
claims  of  the  wants  of  his  intellectual  nature  ;  the  adult  man  may  lose 
himself  yet  more  profoundly,  when  inquiry  compels  him  to  investiga 
tion,  and  plunges  him  into  depths  of  thought  in  which  he  becomes 
lost  to  all  surrounding  objects  and  relations,  and,  like  Newton,  medi 
tates  on  the  fall  of  an  apple,  with  an  intensity  and  concentration  of 
reflective  attention  which  beguile  him  of  needed  sleep,  and  render  him 
unaware  of  the  presence  of  food  or  of  the  fact  of  his  having  omitted 
its  use. 

III.  THE  TENDENCY  OF   ACTION  IN  THE   REFLECTIVE    FACULTIES  . 

INVESTIGATION. 

Its  manifold  directions. — Inquiry,  as  the  grand  prompter  of  the 
reflective  faculties,  impels  to  habits  of  investigation  and  research.  It 
not  only  leads  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  present,  in  quest  of  causes  and  of 
truth,  but  ransacks  the  records  of  the  past,  and  penetrates  into  the 
probabilities  of  the  future.  It  impels  reason  to  explore  the  inmost 
recesses  of  nature,  in  pursuit  of  latent  causes.  It  prompts  man  to  con 
duct  the  experiments  by  which  he  interrogates  nature  of  her  processes, 
and  wins,  as  the  reward  of  his  faithful  inquest,  the  answers  which  he 
records  in  the  archives  of  science.  In  the  relations  of  moral  truth,  it 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  123 

compels  the  investigation  of  evidence,  the  verifying  of  proofs,  the  sift 
ing  of  testimony,  for  trie  attaining  of  certainty  and  the  confirmation  of 
belief.  But  for  its  influence,  the  world  would  be  to  man  a  mass  of 
unconnected  objects  or  facts  :  he  would  be  to  himself  a  mere  embodi 
ment  of  inconsistent  elements,  unintelligible  and  destitute  of  purpose. 

Examples  of  the  spirit  of  Investigation. — Incited  by  this  principle, 
the  naturalist  explores  the  remotest  regions  of  earth,  to  contemplate 
the  productions  of  nature,  to  survey  the  great  features  of  the  globe, 
its  various  aspects  of  scenery,  its  mountains  and  rivers,  its  atmospheric 
phenomena,  its  mineral,  vegetable,  and  animal  products,  and  the 
mutual  relations  of  cause  and  effect  which  all  these  bear  to  each  other. 

The  scientific  voyager  and  traveler,  impelled  by  the  irrepressible 
desire  to  prosecute  his  favorite  researches,  patiently  endures  fatigue, 
and  sickness,  and  exhaustion,  through  every  extreme  of  heat  or  cold; 
he  exiles  himself  from  society,  for  months  and  years,  to  pursue  his 
solitary  investigations  ;  regardless  of  danger  and  difficulty,  he  bravely 
encounters  every  obstacle,  and  patiently  endures  every  form  of  pain 
and  privation.  He  goes  forth  with  the  spirit  and  hardihood  of  an 
invader,  to  extend  the  domain  of  science,  and  returns  laden  with  the 
trophies  of  victory,  in  discoveries  which  enlighten  and  enrich  the 
human  race. 

In  the  same  spirit  of  investigation,  the  astronomer  secludes  himself, 
for  successive  months  and  years,  to  contemplate  and  record  the  phe 
nomena  of  the  heavens,  and  to  immure  himself  in  those  labyrinths  of 
computation  by  which  the  sublime  truths  of  his  noble  science  are 
investigated  and  revealed. 

Actuated  by  the  same  principle,  the  historian  pursues  his  laborious 
researches  in  the  records  of  remotest  time,  in  the  half-effaced  carving 
on  the  crumbling  monument,  or  the  dim  characters  on  the  decaying 
parchment,  —  in  the  obscur.e  tradition  or  superstitious  myth, — where- 
ever  a  gleam  or  a  spark  of  truth  is  to  be  found  regarding  the  past  life 
of  man  on  earth.  From  his  devotion  to  such  investigations,  no  fresh 
charm  of  nature,  or  invitation  of  social  delight,  can  induce  him  to 
withdraw,  till  he  has  sifted  every  alledged  fact,  verified  every  event, 
dispersed  the  clouds  of  fable,  and  let  in  the  pure  light  of  truth  upon 
the  historic  page. 

The  philologist,  in  quest  of  a  particle  of  meaning  or  significant  value 
in  the  component  elements  of  a  word,  is  another  impressive  example 
of  the  spirit  of  inquiry  leading  to  profoundest  research.  Whole  years, 
nay,  a  long  life,  are  joyfully  devoted  by  him  to  such  pursuits. 
Language  after  language,  by  his  slow  but  sure  processes  of  mining  and 
Capping,  is  forced  to  give  way  to  his  irresistible  energy  and  persevering 


124  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  RF.FLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

toil.  Nothing  can  divert  his  attention,  or  turn  him  from  his  course 
of  persistent  iocUgation.  A  syllable  or  a  letter,  he  feels  assured, 
contains  a  secreted  gem  of  meaning,  the  investigation  of  which  will 
put  him  in  possession  of  wealth  untold  ;  and  that  element  he  will 
trace,  at  whatever  cost  of  persevering  investigation,  through  libraries 
and  through  languages,  till  the  lustre  of  the  intellectual  diamond  beams 
full  upon  his  mind.  His  personal  acquisition,  purchased  at  such  a 
price,  becomes,  in  due  season,  through  the  instrumentality  of  his 
devoted  labors,  the  common  property  of  the  intellectual  world. 

The  investigations  of  the  mechanician  into  the  laws  and  forces  of 
nature,  again  exemplify  the  power  which  the  spirit  of  inquiry  exerts 
over  the  human  mind,  and  the  value  of  the  results  to  which  it  leads. 
The  long  and  complicated  processes  of  computation  by  which  the 
devoted  servant  of  science  pursues  his  study  of  its  principles,  when 
occupied  with  the  intricate  combinations  involved  in  the  invention  of 
some  device  of  mechanism,  by  which  the  well-being  of  mankind  may 
be  promoted  for  ages  ;  the  unabating  ardor  with  which,  in  spite  of 
every  discouragement,  he  continues  to  consume  fortune  and  life  in  the 
prosecution  of  his  purpose  ; — all  indicate  the  moving  force  of  the  men- 
till  principle  by  which  his  own  interior  world  of  invention  and  contriv 
ance  is  actuated;  and  the  results  ultimately  obtained  reveal  the  value 
of  the  intellectual  habits  which  are  concerned  in  the  processes  of 
investigation. 

The  chemist,  interrogating  nature,  as  he  investigates  the  constitution 
of  her  elements,  is  yet  another  forcible  example  of  the  same  spirit. 
At  the  risk,  sometimes,  of  life  itself,  he  pursues  his  inquest  of  hidden 
relations,  perplexing  facts,  and  hitherto  undiscovered  elements  and 
undeveloped  forces,  till  he  is  enabled  to  enlighten  the  world  by  the 
revelation  of  a  new  material  in  the  construction  of  the  physical 
universe,  and  an  invaluable  aid  to  the  welfare  of  man. 

Investigation,  in  all  the  relations  of  mental  action,  is,  in  brief,  the 
just  price  of  labor,  which  man  is  doomed  to  pay  for  value  received. 
The  noblest  of  all  intellectual  acquirements,  the  grandest  discoveries 
and  most  useful  inventions,  are  due  alike  to  this  process  by  which  the 
mind  is  enabled  to  read,  whether  in  the  world  of  matter  or  that  of 
spirit,  the  laws  instituted  by  the  Creator;  cooperating  with  which, 
man  becomes  possessed  of  a  portion  of  divine  power,  and  unaided  by 
which,  every  attempt  of  human  force  or  skill  must  be  baffled.  The 
tendency  and  the  ability  to  penetrate  into  the  depths  of  causation, 
constitute  the  mental  prerogatives  of  man  ;  they  lift  him  up  to  the 
rank  of  nobility,  in  the  orders  of  intelligence,  and  make  his  mind  the 
well-spring  of  a  stream  which  is  destined  to  flow  on  forever, — not  with 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  ^05 

the  mere  casual  or  limited  contributions  of  observation,  but  ever 
enlarging  itself  by  the  broad  and  deep  affluents  of  profoundest  thought 
and  reflective  reason,  and  richly  laden  with  all  the  treasures  of  dis 
covery,  which  have  been  accumulated  by  laborious  and  successful 
investigation. 

IV.  THE  RESULT  OF  THE  ACTION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES  : 

TRUTH. 

The  successive  stages  of  intellectual  progress. — Furnished  with  the 
interior  principle  of  intelligence,  invested  with  the  organized  apparatus 
of  sensation,  and  provided  with  the  physical  material  for  the  exercise 
of  his  powers,  the  child,  under  the  guidance  of  Creative  wisdom,  sets 
out  on  the  career  of  intellectual  progress,  actuated  by  the  impulse  of 
curiosity,  whose  tendency  is  to  insure  the  habit  of  observation  and  that 
discipline  of  his  perceptive  faculties  by  which  he  is  ultimately  enabled 
to  win  the  prize  of  KNOWLEDGE.  He  thus  accomplishes  his  first  cur 
riculum  in  the  great  school  established  by  the  benignant  universal 
Providence  which  careth  for  humanity,  arid  under  whose  discipline  the 
law  of  progressive  intellection  secures,  to  a  given  extent,  the  welfare  of 
man,  whether  more  or  less  favored  by  intelligent  human  culture.  To 
this  first  stage  of  development  gradually  succeeds  that  other,  in  which, 
through  the  inward  action  of  the  divinely-implanted  principle  of  intel 
ligence,  man's  own  inner,  mental  world  of  conscious  condition,  act, 
cause,  effects,  tendency,  and  power, — of  memory,  reason,  imagination, 
feeling,  and  will,  is  revealed  and  explored,  as  a  theatre  of  comparatively 
unlimited  expansion  and  ceaseless  action.  Within  himself,  he  finds, 
at  once?  the  power,  the  springs,  the  scope,  the  materials  of  this  new 
career  of  activity,  in  which  he  is  impelled  by  the  same  earnest  irrepres 
sible  desire  to  discover  and  to  know,  as  before,  but  now  working  in  a 
higher  sphere,  and  with  a  higher  aim.  Prompted  by  inquiry,  and 
impelled  to  investigation,  he  is  thus  led  onward  to  that  higher  goal  of 
intellectual  progress,  where,  by  the  disciplined  action  of  the  reflective 
faculties,  knowledge  is  consummated  in  TRUTH,  and  where  man  dis 
covers,  and  learns  to  reverence  and  obey,  the  highest  law  of  his  being. — 
subordination  to  the  sway  of  the  Reason  which  reigns  supreme  in 
the  universe  of  thought. 

Appropriate  application  of  the  term  Truth. — The  sense  in  which 
the  word  "truth"  is  properly  used  in  general  discussions  connected 
with  mental  processes,  is,  of  course,  wider  than  that  in  which  it  is 
employed  in  relations  strictly  or  exclusively  pertaining  to  the  science 
of  logic.  In  the  latter  case,  it  implies  no  more  than  the  exact  con 
formity  of  the  terms  of  a  proposition  to  the  fact  which  it  is  obviously 
meant  to  announce.  But,  in  well-sanctioned  forms  of  expression  on 


120  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

general  topics,  truth  is,  with  equal  justice,  predicated  of  the  corres 
pondence  of  language  to  thought,  of  art  to  nature,  of  action  to  inten 
tion,  of  antitype  to  type, — in  any  relation  whatever. 

In  the  working  of  the  mind,  the  term  applies,  with  not  less  pro 
priety,  to  the  correspondence  of  perception  to  object,  of  conception  to 
idea,  of  word  to  thing,  of  language  to  relation,  of  action  to  conscience, 
of  habit  to  character,  of  aim  to  end,  of  opinion  to  sentiment  or  state 
ment  to  fact,  of  expression  or  representation  to  reality  or  actuality. 
The  word  u  truth,"  in  brief,  covers,  properly,  the  whole  ground  of 
intellectual,  aesthetic,  or  moral  conformity  of  thought,  expression,  or 
action,  to  an  exact  and  recognized  standard,  sanctioned  by  the  canons 
of  criticism  or  of  conscience.  It  stands  opposed,  therefore,  equally  to 
falsity  of  conception,  of  expression,  or  of  action.  As  a  quality,  it  char 
acterizes  alike  the  habits  of  the  correct  thinker,  of  the  exact  artist, 
whether  in  the  use  of  pencil,  pen,  or  tongue,  and  those  of  the  sincere 
and  honest  man.  It  secures  the  individual  from  the  unintentional 
defects  of  error,  and  guards  him  against  the  voluntary  deviations  of 
design. 

In  relation,  however,  to  the  subject  of  human  culture,  and,  in  par 
ticular,  to  the  discipline  of  the  mental  powers,  truth  is  regarded  as  a 
result  of  voluntary  and  studious  application, — as  a  product  of  the  exer 
cise  of  the  reflective  faculties,  in  the  quest  of  ultimate  principles  in 
science,  physical,  intellectual,  or   moral.     Examples  in  point  are  fur 
nished  in   the   process  of  tracing  the  great  laws   of  physics,  in  the 
demonstrations  of  geometry,  in  the   verification  of  history,  in  logical 
ratiocination,  in  the  discussion  of  moral  obligations,  in  the  scftitiny  of 
evidence.     In  such   investigations,  the  quest  of  truth,  conducted   by 
well -disciplined   reflective  faculties,  is  steadily,  skillfully,  and  success 
fully  pushed  onward   to  the  grand   crowning  result  of  certainty  and 
conviction.     Unaided  by  the  skill  which  culture  and  discipline  insure, 
the  rnind  has  no  security  against  the  involuntary  illusions  of  error,  or 
the  intentional  misrepresentations  of  deceit ;  it  discovers  no  stability 
in  the  outward  universe,  has  no  confidence  in  its  own  conclusions,  no 
just  reliance  on  itself,  no  firm   conviction   of  duty,   no  enlightened 
faith  in  testimony  ;  but  blown  about  by  every  plausible  assumption 
of  theory,  and  every  shifting  phase  of  circumstance, — a  prey  to  every 
reigning  delusion,  unsettled  on  any  sure  foundation  of  moral  principle, — 
skeptical  as  to  every  vital  truth,  plunging  into  everv  approaching 
fog-bank  of  error,  and  drifting,  without  chart  or  compass,  on  the  great 
ocean  of  uncertainty, — suffers,  at  length,  an  intellectual  and  moral 
wreck. 

Most  justly,  as  well  as  beautifully,  has  Bacon  said,  "  truth,  which 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  J27 

only  doth  judge  itself,  teacheth  that  the  inquiry  of  truth,  which  is  the 
love-making,  or  wooing,  of  it, — the  knowledge  of  truth,  which  is  the 
presence  of  it, — and  the  belief  of  truth,  which  is  the  enjoying  of  it, — 
is  the  sovereign  good  of  human  nature." 

Guided  by  his  own  unassisted  reflective  reason,  man  does  unques 
tionably  attain  to  great  results,  both  intellectual  and  moral.  But, 
enlightened  by  the  knowledge  which  science  and  education  shed  on 
every  relation  of  his  being,  what  a  vast  expansion,  what  a  wondrous 
elevation  is  he  capable  of  attaining  ; — all  resulting  from  the  faithful 
application  and  skillful  exercise  of  the  reason  with  which  his  Creator 
has  crowned  his  intellectual  faculties  !  How  noble,  in  this  view, 
becomes  the  office  of  the  educator,  whose  daily  endeavor  it  is  to  cher 
ish,  and  strengthen,  and  vivify  this  master  principle  of  all  intelligence! 

V.  EDUCATIONAL  PROCESSES  FOR  THE  DEVELOPMENT  AND  DISCIPLINE 
OF  TEE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

Defective  Methods. — If  we  look  at  what  is  professedly  and  formally 
done,  in  our  common  modes  of  education,  for  the  exercise  and  disci 
pline  of  the  reflective  faculties ;  and  if  we  found  our  estimate  on  the 
number  of  branches  of  knowledge  or  of  science,  and  the  number  and 
variety  of  books  nominally  employed  for  the  purpose,- we  might  be 
inclined  to- suppose  that,  in  this  important  part  of  culture,  much  is 
effected.  But,  on  examining  the  actual  state  of  things,  errors  and 
oversights,  in  this  respect,  are  found  to  be  numerous,  and  methods 
comparatively  ineffectual. 

Exclusive  reliance  on  exactness  of  recollection. — Memory,  the 
appointed  servant  of  the  reflective  faculties,  whose  office  it  is  to  collect 
and  keep  and  furnish  the  materials  for  their  action,  is,  indeed,  amply 
laden  with  the  semblance  arid  show  of  matter  ; — but  most  of  it  in  the 
form  of  Hamlet's  book  of  "  words,  words,  words.''  The  too  exclusive 
use  of  manuals,  the  mere  records  of  knowledge,  instead  of  the  actual 
study  of  objects,  facts  and  relations,  the  observation  and  the  under 
standing  of  which  constitute  knowledge  itself,  leads  to  the  cultivation 
of  a  verbal  and  mechanical  memory,  instead  of  a  living  and  intelligent 
one.  The  fact  is  still  too  generally  overlooked,  that  memory  is  not 
so  much  a  separate  faculty,  which  can  be  trained  and  disciplined  by 
itself,  as  the  mind, — in  virtue  of  its  spiritual  nature  and  exemption 
from  limits  of  time  and  space, — retaining  or  recalling  what  it  has  once 
observed  or  conceived  ;  that  the  vigor  of  this  retention,  or  the  force  of 
this  recurrence,  must  always  be  as  that  of  the  original  impression , 
and  that  the  only  rational  reliance  for  the  healthy  and  effective  action 
of  memory,  must  therefore  be  the  freshness,  the  force,  and  the  depth 
of  attention.  But,  obviously,  no  impression  made  on  the  mind  through 


128  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

the  medium  of  language,— no  matter  how  exact  may  be  the  definition, 
or  how  true  the  description, — can  ever  be  so  complete  or  so  effectual 
as  that  of  direct  observation  through  the  senses,  personal  experience, 
or  distinct  conciousness.  Here,  again,  we  are  referred  to  two  great 
educational  principles  :  that  the  study  of  things  should  precede  the 
study  of  words,  and  should  always  be  resorted  to,  in  preference,  where- 
ever  there  is  a  choice  of  modes  of  instruction  ;  and  that,  to  awaken 
and  develops  the  reflective  faculties,  the  true  course  is,  in  obedience 
to  the  Creator's  appointment,  to  use  the  objects  of  nature  as  the  appa 
ratus  which  His  wisdom  has  provided,  not  only  for  the  exercise  and 
training  of  the  mind's  perceptive  faculties,  with  a  view  to  the  acquisi 
tion  of  knowledge,  but  for  the  expanding  and  deepening  of  its  capaci 
ties  of  discovering  truth.  Ol*ervation  naturally  prompts  to  thought 
and  reflection.  There  is,  in  such  circumstance's,  a  conscious,  living 
transition  from  one  sphere  of  intelligence  to  another, — from  one  com 
paratively  lower  and  more  limited  to  one  higher  and  more  spacious. 
But  in  the  mere  contemplation  or  repetition  of  the  words  which  des 
cribe  an  object,  record  a  fact,  or  state  a  principle,  the  condition  of  mind 
is  that  of  abstraction  ;  and  the  mental  associations,  in  such  conditions, 
are  always  less  vivid,  forcible  and  distinct,  than  in  the  observation  of 
concrete  realities  ;  and,  when  the  former  of  these  conditions  is  recalled, 
its  impress  is  necessarily  dim  and  obscure,  compared  to  that  of  the 
latter,  which,  by  the  experience  of  actual  perception,  has  become  a 
comparatively  inseparable  part  of  the  mental  life  and  history  of  the 
agent. 

The  difference  in  these  two  cases  will  be  rendered  yet  more  strik 
ingly  apparent,  if  we  suppose, — what  is  commonly  true  in  verbatim 
processes  of  committing  to  memory, — that  the  mind  of  the  learner,  in 
his  anxiety  to  retain  and  repeat  with  exactness  the  phraseology  of  the 
book  which  he  studies,  often  glances  aside  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  fact  or  the  principle  which  he  is  enunciating,  to  the  literal  succes 
sion  of  the  words  in  which  it  is  expressed.  The  mind's  power  of 
abstraction  becomes,  in  this  way,  the  very  means  of  its  deterioration  ; 
and  the  memory,  abused  by  this  arbitrary  and  mechanical  mode  of 
exercise,  loses  its  healthy  power  of  retention  and  recollection  ;  and 
unfortunately,  most  of  all,  in  those  reflective  processes  of  earnest 
thought  which  demand  its  most  vigorous  exertion. 

The  prevalent  methods  of  teaching,  moreover,  are  still  too  exclusively 
directed  to  the  exercise  of  memory,  at  the  expense  of  neglecting  the 
other  faculties, — an  evil  inseparable  from  the  false  views  which  still 
usurp  the  seats  of  instruction,  and  make  education  consist  in  processes, 
of  passive  reception,  on  the  part  of  the  pupil ;  as  if  his  mind  were  a 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE   REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  129 

capacity  to  be  filled,  rather  than  a  capability  to  be  developed,  or  a 
life -power  to  be  awakened. 

Reading. — The  greater  number  of  the  subjects  which  are  introduced 
in  early  education,  as  means  of  exercise  and  discipline  for  the  mind, 
are  still  too  commonly  treated  under  the  influence  of  these  erroneous 
views  of  the  character  and  objects  of  mental  culture.  Hence  the 
wearisome  experience  of  the  child,  when  compelled  to  drudge  through 
the  task  of  committing  to  memory  the  names  of  all  the  alphabetic 
characters  of  the  language,  before,  or  perhaps  without  ever,  acquiring 
a  knowledge  of  the  power,  or  actual  sound,  of  any  one  of  the  whole 
group.  Every  day,  he  is  giving  two  or  three  of  these  sounds  in  every 
one  of  the  short  and  easy  words  which  he  uses  in  conversation.  But 
he  is  not  allowed  the  satisfaction  of  recognizing  the  fact,  that  these 
troublesome  and  perplexing  marks  before  his  eye,  are  little  graphic 
characters  to  suggest,  phonetically  to  eye  and  ear,  the  very  words 
which  he  is,  constantly  uttering.  When  the  alphabetic  task  is  accom 
plished,  there  follows,  usually,  in  the  child's  experience,  that  of  hew 
ing  his  way  through  whole  columns  of  words,  to  him  unmeaning, 
because  lying  out  of  his  sphere  in  the  understanding  and  use  of  lan 
guage  ;  and  to  this  useless  toil  too  often  succeeds  that  of  reading  multi 
tudes  of  unintelligible  sentences  of  a  character  corresponding  to  the 
words  which  baffled  him.  But  we  need  not  dwell  on  this  topic  now, 
having  entered  into  it  at  length,  in  former  connections  of  this  part  of 
our  subject. 

Arithmetic. — In  arithmetical  instruction,  which  might  be  so  effect 
ive  an  aid  to  the  development  of  the  mind's  reflective  power,  the 
same  evil  still  too  generally  prevails,  as  in  the  rudiraental  stages  of 
spelling  and  reading.  The  very  first  step  taken,  in  some  instances,  is 
to  prescribe  and  enforce  the  committing  to  memory  of  elementary 
tables  of  numbers,  by  arbitrary  repetition  of  the  words  in  which  these 
are  expressed.  Were  the  child  allowed  the  fair  opportunity  of  first 
seeiny,  in  concrete  form,  the  facts  which  he  is  made  to  assume  and 
communicate  in  parrot-like  form  ;  and  were  he  allowed  to  create  them 
for  himself,  in  visible  or  tangible  shape,  in  copious  instances,  and  thus 
to  generalize  the  facts  from  his  own  observation,  memory  would  have 
an  intelligent,  living  office  to  perform,  would  work  with  freshness  and 
strength,  and  long  retain,  or  easily  recall,  what  attention  had  proved. 
Were  it  required  of  the  pupil  thus  to  construct  the  given  table,  instead 
of  merely  repeating  the  words  in  which  it  is  expressed,  the  exercise  of 
memory  would  be  as  pleasing  as  it  would  be  invigorating.  It  would 
thus  be  aided  by  the  deepening  and  strengthening  effect  of  the  not 
less  delightful  processes  of  combining  and  constructing,  in  the  actua* 

1  I 


130  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

work  of  practical  operations.  The  busy  hand  would  thus  help  the 
thinking  head  to  clearer  views  and  deeper  impressions;  and  the  truo 
and  proper  work  of  memory  would  be  done  iu  accordance  with  the 
law  of  mental  action. — fcAs  is  THE  EARNESTNESS  OF  ATTENTION,  so  is 

THE  DURATION  OF  REMEMBRANCE,  OR  THE  DISTINCTNESS  AND  READINESS 
OF  RECOLLECTION." 

Geography— The  subject  of  geography  furnishes  very  frequently 
another  example  of  memoriter  lessons,  exacted,  perhaps,  with  a  well- 
meaning  rigorous  fidelity  to  the  language  of  a  text-book,  but  sacri 
ficing  the  useful  khowledge,  the  pleasing  information,  and  the  invalu 
able  mental  training  and  discipline,  which  this  instructive  branch  of 
science  might  be  made  to  furnish.  Detached  facts,  comparative 
numerical  tables,  and  assumed  definitions,  are  yet  too  uniformly 
imposed  as  a  burden  on  the  memory  ;  while  the  actual  survey  of  even 
a  limited  portion  of  the  earth's  surface,  within  daily  view,  perhaps,  of 
the  learner,  would  furnish  him  with  the  best  materials  on  which  to 
build  up  the  noble  and  majestic  structure  of  geographical  science. 

Fortunately,  through  the  labors  of  Professor  Arnold  Guyot,  in  his 
luminous  exposition  of  the  philosophy  of  instruction  in  this  department 
of  science,  a  new  and  better  era  is  begun  in  American  schools;  and 
this  branch  of  education  is  now,  in  many  seminaries,  taught  on 
methods  strictly  logical.  The  study  of  geography  thus  becomes  an 
admirable  intellectual  discipline,  in  addition  to  the  systematic  forms 
in  which  it  embodies  the  great  facts  and  pervading  laws  of  nature, 
which  are  its  peculiar  province  as  a  science.  The  student,  who  is 
trained  on  this  admirable  method,  has  the  great  features  of  the  globe, 
and  all  their  relations  of  consequent  fact,  imprinted  forever  on  his 
memory.  The  very  inequalities  of  the  earth's  surface,  become  to  him 
an  intelligible  language,  by  which  he  reads  the  laws  of  design,  and 
traces  effects  to  causes,  with  the  certainty  of  distinct  recognition. 
Taught  in  this  manner,  few  sciences  are  more  adapted  to  the  develop 
ment  of  the  reflective  faculties,  in  their  first  steps  of  advancement  from 
the  fit-Id  of  perceptive  observation  to  that  of  contemplative  survey  and 
rational  inquiry,  or  to  that  of  profound  scientific  investigation.  T!,e 
methods  which  Professor  Guyot  has  transferred  from  the  lessons  of 
his  own  distinguished  instructor,  Carl  Hitter,  and  the  views  of  the 
patriarch  of  geographical  science,  Baron  Alexander  Von  Humboldt, 
will,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  soon  find  their  way  not  only  into  our  text-books, 
in  which  they  are  beginning  to  appear,  but  into  all  our  seminaries  in 
which  the  young  mind  is  undergoing  the  formative  processes  of 
education. 

History. — Of  all  the  sciences  which  are  naturally  fitted  to  invite  the 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  13  j 

mind  to  the  full  exercise  of  its  reflective  tendencies,  none  would  seem 
so  happily  adapted  to  this  end  as  history.  Its  records,  while  they  are, 
in  one  sense,  but  forms  of  memory,  are  still  the  records  of  man  mov 
ing  on  his  amplest  stage  of  action,  as  a  human  being,  intelligent, 
rational,  and  moral;  blending  the  relations  of  individual  character  and 
social  life  with  those  of  the  national  and  political  sphere, — with  tho 
founding  the  government,  or  the  fall  of  states  and  empires. 

History,  as  it  necessarily  exhibits  man  in  his  moral  relations,  ought 
to  be  one  of  the  most  instructive  and  suggestive  of  studies.  If  any 
subject  can  excite  reflective  thought,  it  is  this.  Its  analysis  and  scru 
tiny  of  human  character ;  its  investigation  into  the  motives  of  action, 
in  every  form  and  condition  of  life ;  the  research,  to  which  it  invites, 
into  the  manners  and  customs  of  by-gone  ages ;  the  careful  examina 
tion  which  it  induces  of  the  testimony  of  conflicting  records  ;  the  views 
which  it  discloses  of  national  character  and  institutions ;  the  insight 
which  it  gives  into  the  policy  of  nations,  and  the  influence  of  different 
forms  of  government ;  all  bespeak  the  tendency  of  historical  studies 
to  evoke  the  most  earnest  and  profound  reflection.  The  study  of  his 
tory  should  be,  in  itself,  an  effective  discipline  of  the  mind,  in  all  the 
nob!est  relations  of  its  action.  But,  here,  too,  the  mere  imprinting  on 
the  memory  a  naked  record  of  detached  facts,  of  single  events,  or 
striking  incidents,  or  of  the  items  of  a  chronological  table,  is  the  too 
prevalent  law  of  custom  in  the  requisitions  of  educational  establish 
ments.  The  life  of  history,  its  suggestive  power,  as  a  reflective  and 
moral  instructor,  is  thus  killed  ;  and,  instead  of  the  living  form,  in  its 
natural  lineaments  and  beauty,  we  have  but  a  meagre  outline  of  tho 
dry  bones  of  what,  in  the  technical  language  of  historic  compilation,  is 
most  aptly  denominated  a  "  skeleton." 

To  the  mature  mind,  willing  to  encounter  fatiguing  effort,  and 
patiently  to  add  stone  to  stone  of  the  intellectual  fabric,  the  plan  too 
commonly  adopted  in  the  instruction  of  young  learners,  of  beginning 
the  study  of  history  with  a  mere  outline  of  dates  and  events  and  eras, 
may  prove  practicable,  though  not  easy  or  pleasant.  But,  to  the 
youthful  spirit,  the  great  attraction  of  this  study  lies  in  its  pictures  of 
life  and  action,  and  in  the  sympathies  which  these  evoke.  To  the 
juvenile  reader  all  history  is  biography.  The  policy  of  nations,  the 
intrigues  of  state,  the  strategics  of  war,  are  unintelligible  and  uninter 
esting  to  him ;  and  he  ignores  them,  if  they  intrude  upon  the  narra 
tive.  But  the  feeling  and  the  character  and  actions  of  individuals,  he 
understands,  and  admires  or  hates,  according  to  the  promptings  of  his 
unperverted  heart.  lie  follows  the  steps  of  the  historic  hero,  through 
all  his  scenes  of  struggle  and  trial,  of  effort  and  of  triumph  ;  imbibing 


132  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

unconsciously,  in  the  successive  stages  of  this  ideal  progress,  inspiring 
lessons  of  wisdom  and  virtue  from  all,  or  listening  to  the  warnings 
which  recorded  experience  gives  on  the  evils  of  folly  or  of  vice. 

A  course  of  judiciously  selected  biography,  should  be  the  educa 
tional  introduction  to  the  study  of  history.  The  interest  attached  to 
the  personal  narrative,  accompanies  the  young  student  into  his  read 
ing  on  the  broader  scale  of  national  movements  and  their  various  con 
sequences  ;  and  the  life  breathed  into  the  study  from  the  character  of 
its  earliest  stage,  gives  warmth  and  attraction  to  all  its  more  extensive 
views  and  complicated  relations. 

Language,  as  the  product  of  the  expressive  faculties,  and  as  a  dis 
cipline  for  their  development,  we  had  occasion  to  discuss  under  that 
head,  in  a  former  lecture.  But  we  have  still  to  do  with  it  as  a  part 
of  education  adapted  to  the  strengthening  of  the  mind's  power  of 
reflective  investigation.  Our  common  error  in  this  department,  as  in 
others,  is  a  too  exclusive  attention  to  the  acquisition  of  a  certain 
amount  of  knowledge  of  the  etymological  and  syntactical  forms  of 
words  and  phrases, — a  knowledge  depending  entirely  on  the  exercise 
of  memory  in  retaining  or  recalling  these  forms.  Through  the  various 
stages  of  education,  the  attention  is  too  exclusively  fixed  on  these 
minutize  of  language  ;  and,  neither  in  the  study  of  ancient  or  of  modern 
languages,  nor  even  in  that  of  our  own,  is  the  mind  duly  attracted  to 
the  character  of  the  sentiments  embodied  in  the  works  of  the  authors 
which  are  read  in  the  progress  of  education,  nor  to  the  broad  distinct 
ive  traits  which  form'  the  character  of  the  given  language, — to  the 
individuality  which  a  successful  writer  stamps  on  it,  or  to  the  mental 
value  of  the  forms  of  expression  which  lie  adopts.  Philology,  a  pur 
suit  so  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  cultivation  of  the  mind's  reflective 
and  investigating  powers,  is  cut  off  from  the  student  till  the  strong 
bias  of  personal  taste  or  inclination  induces  him  to  open  this  mental 
vista  for  himself.  Criticism,  too,  the  art  which  demands  the  closest 
application  of  reflective  judgment,  in  addition  to  perfect  purity  of  taste, 
is  handed  over  to  the  lessons  of  some  meagre  text-book,  which  does 
not  contain  matter  enough  within  its  boards  for  the  proper  discussion 
or  fitting  elucidation  of  a  single  principle  of  aesthetics. 

Logic  is  another  science  belonging  to  the  more  advanced  stages  of 
education, — the  study  of  which  ought  to  exert  a  powerful  influence  on 
the  tendencies  and  habits  of  the  reflective  faculties,  but  which  is  some 
times  very  inadequately  taught  even  in  our  higher  seminaries  of  learn 
ing.  In  some  of  these  institutions,  it  is  customary  to  restrict  the  study 
of  logic  to  the  ancient  Aristotelian  form  of  it,  and  without  the  advant- 
nge  of  the  scholastic,  syllogistic  disputations,  which,  although  always 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE   REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  133 

formal  in  character,  and  sometimes  frivolous  in  result,  were  yet  designed 
to  be  rigorously  exact  exemplifications  of  pure  logical  reasoning  ;  and 
which,  with  all  their  faults  and  failures,  secured,  at  least,  one  great 
practical  object  of  education,  by  giving  the  mind  active  exercise  in 
applying  principles,  instead  of  leaving  it  merely  to  listen,  and  remem 
ber,  and  record.  It  is  true  that,  in  some  educational  establishments,  a 
more  liberal  view  of  logic  is  entertained,  and  that,  in  these  seminaries, 
the  science  is  regarded  not  merely  as  one  which  teaches  the  art  of 
reasoning,  but  as  that  which  investigates  and  enunciates  the  laws  of 
thought,  and  involves,  therefore,  a  knowledge  of  the  elements  of  intel 
lectual  philosophy,  together  with  the  application  of  all  the  principles 
of  mental  science  which  affect  the  exercise  of  any  class  of  the  various 
powers  and  faculties  of  the  mind. 

An  instructive  exposition  of  this  view  of  logic,  as  the  first  stage  of 
purely  intellectual  discipline,  is  given  in  the  "Outlines  of  Philosophic 
Education,"  by  the  late  Professor  Jardine,  of  Glasgow  University,  who, 
for  fifty  years,  conducted,  with  distinguished  success,  his  course  of 
instruction,  on  the  plan  delineated  in  his  work.  That  eminently  skill 
ful' teacher, — for  he  regarded  the  duties  of  a  professor  in  his  depart 
ment  as  consisting  quite  as  much  in  conducting  the  practical  processes 
of  training  exercises,  as  in  the  didactic  routine  of  lecturing, — regarded 
the  study  of  the  Aristotelian  logic  but  as  a  very  limited  part  of  intel 
lectual  discipline,  and,  while  he  allowed  it  its  distinct  place  and  full 
value,  justly  maintained  that,  for  the  purposes  of  modern  education, 
which  imply  so  wide  and  varied  applications  of  thought, — in  directions 
so  different  from  those  pursued  in  ancient  times, — the  sphere  of  study 
must  be  greatly  enlarged  beyond  the  narrow  limits  of  the  scholastic 
discipline,  and  a  course  of  training  prescribed  which  shall  prepare  the 
mind  for  the  new  demands  made  upon  its  powers,  in  the  new  modes 
of  action  with  which  modern  science  is  conversant. 

This  broader  view  of  logical  discipline  is  fortunately  taken  by  several 
of  our  own  recent  writers  on  the  subject ;  and  the  course  of  instruction 
is,  accordingly,  in  some  seminaries,  enlarged  so  as  to  embrace  the 
elements  of  intellectual  philosophy,  as  indispensable  to  clear  and  satis 
factory  views  of  logic  itself,  and  to  the  purposes  for  which  the  study 
of  logic  was  originally  constituted  a  department  of  education.  But. 
even  in  such  instances,  the  young  student  is  not  trained  to  apply  the 
principles  embodied  in  his  text- book  to  an  extensive  course  of  practi 
cal  exemplifications  and  personal  discipline.  He  is  not  called  to  per 
form  any  series  of  practical  exercises  bearing  the  same  relation  to  the 
science  of  logic  that  analytic  parsing  and  written  composition  bear  to 
grammar,  lie  is  not  trained  to  trace  the  logic  of  great  arguments 


134  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

exemplified  in  the  productions  of  eminent  metaphysical  writers.  lie 
is  not  disciplined  in  the  digesting  and  methodizing  of  his  own  concep 
tions  on  prescribed  subjects,  so  as  to  give  sequence  or  soundness  to 
argument,  and  certainty  to  his  own  conclusions. 

In  the  study  of 'intellectual  philosophy  we  see,  too  often,  another 
instance  of  the  imperfect  learning  by  book,  without  the  contemplation 
of  the  thing  itself  of  which  the  book  treats.  Our  current  instruction, 
in  this  department,  consists  in  little  more  than  the  assigning  of  so 
many  pages  of  a  text-book  to  be  committed  to  memory  ;  and  the  pro 
gress  made  in  the  study  of  the  science  is  judged  of  by  the  correctness 
or  the  fluency  with  which  the  terms  employed  in  the  nomenclature 
of  a  favorite  system  can  be  repeated,  rather  than  by  any  actual  know 
ledge  or  personal  opinions  on  the  subject  itself.  The  student  is  not 
invited  to  put  forth  his  own  mind,  in  actual  investigations  on  the 
topics  which  he  studies  :  he  is  not  permitted  to  enjoy  the  benefit  of 
those  conversational  discussions  with  his  instructor,  which  might  create- 
a  living  interest  in  the  subject  prescribed,  and  induce  the  student  to 
prosecute  with  effect  those  unaided  researches  of  individual  applica 
tion,  without  which  knowledge  is  not  to  be  acquired,  or  truth 
ascertained. 

In  the  department  of  moral  philosophy,  a  subject  so  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  development  and  discipline  of  the  reflective  faculties, 
we  find,  usually,  the  same  mechanical  routine  of  book-study  and 
recitation  adopted.  In  this  highest  relation  of  human  instruction,  the 
mind  is  still  left  passive  and  receptive  merely  ;  while  there  is  no  sub 
ject  on  which  original,  vigorous,  .and  personal  thought  is  so  important 
to  the  acquisition  of  principle  or  the  formation  of  character.  Here, 
more  than  anywhere  else,  living,  eloquent  instruction  from  the  man, 
rather  than  the  book,  is  indispensable  to  the  production  of  deep  and 
enduring  impressions  of  truth,  and  the  exciting  of  hearty  sympathy 
with  its  applications.  Here,  too,  more  than  elsewhere,  is  the  active 
use  of  the  student's  own  mind  necessary  to  the  results  of  true  culture 
on  personal  habit  and  character.  His  own  investigations,  and  his  own 
record  of  these,  ought  to  be  required  of  him,  as  the  only  rational 
benefit  of  the  guidance  afforded  by  a  text-book  or  a  teacher.  Conver 
sation  and  writing  would  throw  life  into  these  subjects,  and  make  them 
matters  of  personal  interest  and  personal  conviction  to  the  individual  ; 
and  the  fruits  of  education  would  thus  be  more  extensively  reaped  in 
the  experience  of  society. 

APPROPRIATE  METHODS  OF  DISCIPLINE. — We  will  now  turn  from 
the  consideration  of  the  subjects  which  form  the  usual  material  for  the 
education  and  development  of  the  reflective  faculties,  to  the  more 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  135 

immediate  contemplation  of  those  faculties  themselves,  with  regard  to 
their  natural  wants  and  appropriate  aids  ;  and,  firs^  as  regards  the 
faculty  of 

Memory. — In  the  fact  of  muscular  action,  the  power  to  retain 
depends  on  the  firmness  of  the  original  (/rasp.  The  analogy  holds  in 
the  exercise  of  memory  :  the  retentive  or  repeating  power  depends  on 
the  depth  of  the  impression :  concentrated  and  sustained  attention  is 
the  condition  of  remembrance.  If  we  would  strengthen  the  memory, 
we  must  cultivate  force  of  attention.  The  indication  of  nature  to  the 
teacher,  in  this  case,  obviously  is,  Select  for  the  mind's  first  exercises, 
striking  or  attractive  objects  of  attention,  or  interesting  subjects  of 
thought.  For  more  advanced  stages  of  mental  progress,  when  accu 
racy  demands  comparative  minuteness  and  multiplicity  of  uninterest 
ing  detail,  rely  on  the  moral  force  of  the  will  and  disciplined  habit,  to 
give  closeness  and  persistency  to  attention.  In  all  cases,  keep  fully  in 
mind  the  great  value  of  meiv  repetition  and  frequent  review,  without 
which  all  ordinary  subjects  of  past  thought  are  ever  tending  to  sink 
into  dimness  and  obscurity,  and,  ultimately,  into  utter  forgetful  ness. 

Mechanical  aids  to  memory  may  sometimes  appear  very  plausible ; 
and  they  often  are  very  amusing  temporary  expedients.  But  they 
actually  destroy  memory,  by  setting  it  aside,  and  usurping  its  phice. 
The  physiologist  tells  us  that  if  we  omit  the  due  use  of  the  teeth,  we 
forfeit  the  posseSfon  of  them.  The  fact  is  strictly  so  of  memory. 
The  juggling  tricks  of  perverted  ingenuity  may  seem  to  conjure  up  a 
substitute  for  the  sound  and  healthy  exercise  of  this  faculty.  But  the 
subject  of  the  experiment,  in  this  as  in  all  other  forms  of  charlatanry, 
finds  himself,  in  the  end,  the  victim  of  deception. 

Memory,  when  employed  on  subjects  comparatively  complex,  or 
intricate  in  their  relations,  finds  its  surest  reliance, — next  to  close  and 
fixed  attention, — to  consist  in  the  grand  universal  law  of  order. 
Arrangement,  classification,  system,  method,  are  powerful  auxiliaries 
to  memory,  as  they  all  tend,  more  or  less,  to  give  sequence  to  thought, 
by  the  law  of  causation,  in  the  closest  connection  of  antecedent  and 
consequent.  One  stage  of  thought  thus  suggests  another  ;  and  the 
machinery  of  memory,  so  to  speak,  works  smoothly  and  well.  The 
security  for  remembrance  or  for  recollection,  in  such  circumstances, 
lies,  of  course,  in  the  clearness  with  which  connections  and  relations 
are  perceived,  and  the  fidelity  with  which  they  are  observed.  A 
treacherous  memory  is  often  but  the  report  of  unfaithful  observation 
or  dim  conception. 

Habits  of  Conception  dependent  on  those  of  Perception. —  Conception, 
as  a  primary  power  of  reflective  intelligence,  performing  for  the 


136  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

relations  of  pure  intellection,  the  same  office  with  that  of  perception,  in 
the  exercise  of  the  understanding  on  the  objects  of  sensation,  depends, 
to  a  great  extent,  on  the  character  and  habits  of  the  perceptive  faculty. 
The  relations  which  the  conceptive  power  discerns  between  the  objects 
and  facts,  presented  to  it  by  the  ministrations  of  sense,  constitute  the 
condition  of  intelligent  observation,  as  differing  from  mereoew/ar  aspcc- 
tion.  ISut  these  relations  necessarily  derive  much  of  their  reality  and 
force  from  the  vividness  of  the  sensation  and  the  clearness  of  the 
understanding,  which  have  attracted  attention  to  the  external  phenome 
na,  and  thus  have  elicited  the  conceptive  acts  of  mind  by  which  the 
relations  perceived  and  understood  become  the  ground-work  of  reflec 
tion  and  meditation,  leading  in  turn  to  farther  processes  of  thought, 
inductive  or  deductive,  as  investigation  may  require. 

Clear,  forcible  and  true  perceptions,  therefore,  are  requisite  antece 
dents  of  corresponding  qualities  in  conception  ;  and  a  sound  and  active 
condition  of  the  latter  depends  on  similar  conditions  and  habits  of 
the  former; — just  as  healthy  sensation  is,  in  turn,  the  pre-requisite  of 
distinct  perception.  We  are  thus  again  referred,  in  adopting  educa 
tional  measures  for  strengthening  and  developing  the  mind's  conceptive 
power,  to  the  attentive  observation  of  external  nature,  as  the  proper 
commencement  of  early  mental  training;  as  the  only  security,  also, 
for  the  vigor  of  all  those  faculties  which  aid  the  min^jp  digesting  and 
assimilating  to  itself,  by  purely  internal  operations,  the  materials  of 
knowledge  acquired  through  the  action  of  sense,  for  the  purpose  of 
being  incorporated  into  the  mental  fabric.  We  are,  at  the  same  time, 
reminded  of  the  great  fact,  of  which  education  should  never  lose  sight, 
that,  whatever  be  the  number  of  faculties  into  which  the  intellectual 
philosopher  may,  in  his  scientific  analysis,  subdivide  the  action  of  the 
mind,  or  whatever  may  be  the  personified  individuality  which  the 
figurative  language  of  popular  usage  may  arbitrarily  confer  on  anyone 
mode  of  mental  action, — to  distinguish  it  from  others. — the  principle 
of  intelligence  is  strictly  a  unit ;  that  it  is  the  same  agent,  whether 
contemplating  the  external  world  through  the  windows  of  sense,  or 
looking  inward  upon  itself,  and  interpreting  its  own  action.  In  both 
circumstances,  we  recognize  a  voluntary  act  of  attention,  followed  by 
an  apprehensive  or  a  comprehensive  act  of  understanding.  In  either 
case,  intelligence  is  the  power  at  work  ;  knowledge  is  the  immediate, 
and  truth  the  final  result. 

Conception  as  dependent  on  Memory  and  Imagination. — Under  the 
term  u  conception,"  however,  in  the  vague  usage  to  which  the  English 
language  is  unfortunately  prone,  in  all  subjects  purely  intellectual,  we 
usually  include  states  or  acts  of  memory  and  of  imagination.  Nor  is 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  137 

it  to  be  denied  that  the  conceptive  faculty  is  often  called  into  action 
on  data  furnished  by  memory,  as  well  as  on  those  presented  by  sense 
or  by  reason.  To  vivify  and  invigorate  the  power  of  conception, 
therefore,  in  such  relations,  we  are  admonished  to  pursue  the  same 
course  of  exercise  and  discipline  by  which  that  faculty  is  rendered 
prompt  and  retentive.  Whatever  we  succeed  in  doing  to  improve  the 
memory,  becomes  thus  a  gain  to  the  power  of  conception. 

Again, ^ie  prevalent  use  of  language  refers  many  of  our  conceptive 
acts  to  forms  of  imagination.  The  astronomer,  speaking  of  the  sun, 
tells  us  of  its  dark,  central  body, — of  its  first  layer  or  substratum  of 
cloudy  atmosphere, — of  its  photosphere,  or  luminous  atmosphere,  and 
of  yet  a  third  rarer  element,  ethereal  and  slightly  colored, — as  to  the 
character  of  which,  science  is  somewhat  perplexed  with  uncertainty. 
The  conceptive  power  of  the  mind  enables  us,  in  this  case,  to  follow 
the  entrancing  description  as  the  scientific  observer,  aided  by  the  many 
appliances  which  modern»instruments  provide,  proceeds  with  his  veri 
fied  observations  ;  and,  with  wondering  attention,  we  draw  on  the  tab 
let  of  imagination  the  successive  images  which  his  graphic  but  exact 
expressions  suggest :  we  see,  with  the  mind's  eye,  the  sun-world,  and 
its  enfolding  atmospheres,  as  distinctly  in  our  consciousness  as  if  we 
surveyed  them  with  eye  or  "optic  tube." 

Correctness  of  Conception. — Even  in  such  cases,  however,  the  truth 
fulness  and  the  distinctness  of  the  mental  picture  depend,  to  a  great 
extent,  on  the  exactness  of  its  correspondence  to  fact,  as  regards  not 
only  the  forms  but  the  character  of  objects,  and  the  relations  existing 
between  them.  Here,  again,  we  are  referred  to  the  working  of  the 
intelligent  principle  in  the  modes  which  we  denominate  understanding 
and  judgment,  without  which  the  whole  structure  erected  in  the  mind 
would  be  as  the  poet's  "  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision." 

In  educational  training,  therefore,  while  every  endeavor  should  be 
used  to  vivify  and  incite  imagination,  and  to  awaken  it  to  its  utmost 
activity  by  appropriate  exercise,  with  a  view  to  the  vast  power  which 
that  faculty  confers  on  conception,  as  a  creative  energy  of  mind;  and 
while  all  the  aids  which  nature,  art,  and  poetry,  offer  to  this  end, 
should  be  fully  employed ;  there  remains  yet  a  task  for  education  to 
perform,  in  inuring  the  conceptive  faculty  to  the  discipline  of  reason 
find  judgment,  so  as  to  render  it  exact,  and  truthful,  and  symmetrical, 
in  all  its  work. 

The  means  by  which  the  mind  is  to  be  formed  to  such  habits  in  its 
conceptive  action,  are  evidently  the  same  which  we  would  employ  for 
developing  and  strengthening  the  reasoning  powers  :  first,  the  inter 
esting  presentation  of  the  objects  and  facts  of  the  natural  world, — so 


138  CULTIVATION  OF  THE   REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

as  to  elicit  thought  and  reflection  on  their  character  aiul  relations  ; 
secondly,  the  teacher's  skillful  suggestion,  designed  to  aid  the  observer 
in  tracing  those  relations  to  principles  and  laws  of  logical  science  ;  and, 
thirdly,  the  careful  training  of  the  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  its  own 
action,  to  the  critical  inspection  and  exact  discrimination  of  the  results 
of  its  action,  and  to  the  thorough  investigation  of  the  laws  of  thought, 
applied  to  the  quest  of  truth. 

CONSCIOUSNESS  : — as  an  aid  to  Reflective  Reason. — Of  thejreflective 
conditions  of  mind  which  tend  to  give  accuracy  to  knowledge,  or  cer 
tainty  to  truth,  none  is  more  conducive  to  such  results  than  that  of 
consciousness.  Not  that  it  necessarily  constitutes  a  separate  power  or 
faculty  ;  (since  it  is  plainly  but  an  act  of  introverted  attention,  by 
which  the  mind  becomes  aware  of  its  existing  states,  acts,  or  pro 
cesses  ;)  but  rather  that  it  is  a  mental  condition  distinctly  recognized 
in  all  the  languages  of  civilized  man,  and  implies  the  power  which  the 
intelligent  principle  possesses  of  holding  up,  in  distinct  vision  to  itself, 
its  own  acts  and  operations; — whether  these  refer  to  the  external 
world  of  perception  or  the  interior  world  of  thought.  This  power  of 
self-observation,  when  the  attention  is  directed  to  relations  purely 
intellectual,  is  necessarily  the  condition  and  the  measure  of  force  with 
which  the  mind  pursues  its  tiains  of  reflection,  traces  the  invisible 
relations  of  sequence,  or  follows  the  continuous  processes  of  meditation, 
in  the  prosecution  of  those  profound  researches  which  the  depth  and 
intricacy  of  scientific  or  moral  truth  not  unfrequently  require. 

Its  Susceptibility  of  Culture. — In  the  relations  of  moral  culture, 
this  faculty, — so  to  term  it, — works  in  so  close  and  intimate  union 
with  the  great  master  principle  of  conscience,  that  its  importance  as  a 
fact  of  mind  demanding  the  earnest  attention  of  the  educator,  in  his 
capacity  of  moral  guardian,  is,  at  once,  apparent.  On  that  department 
of  our  subject  we  do  not,  at  present,  dwell,  as  it  will  invite  our  atten 
tion  hereafter,  in  its  proper  place.  But,  as  an  intellectual  condition, 
subject,  to  some  extent,  to  the  action  of  the  will,  and  to  the  influence 
of  disciplinary  exercise,  it  is  obvious  that  conciousness  or  self-observa 
tion,  may,  like  any  other  power  which  the  mind  possesses,  be  rendered 
vivid,  prompt,  and  operative,  by  repeated  action. 

Man  commences  his  intellectual  and  moral  life  an  unconscious  agent, 
in  the  unknown  and  wonderful  world  around  him,  in  childhood.  He 
is  as  utterly  unconscious  of  the  influences  exerted  on  himself  as  he  is 
ignorant  of  the  true  character  and  relations  of  the  objects  by  which 
he  is  surrounded.  Absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  broad  field 
of  the  external  wrorld,  or  in  the  observation  of  its  objects  individually, 
he  is  lost  alike  to  the  consciousness  of  his  own  being,  and  to  that  of 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  139 

the  effects  which  are  wrought  within  him  by  these  very  objects. 
Drawn  onward  by  an  unconscious  power  of  attraction,  he  follows  the 
study  of  nature,  in  obedience  to  an  instinct  of  which  he  is  not  yet 
aware,  but  which,  by  leading  him  out  of  himself,  conducts  him  to  the 
school  of  observation,  where  knowledge  commences,  and  from  which  he, 
in  due  season,  returns,  empowered  by  the  instruction  he  has  received 
to  observe  and  understand  himself. 

As  his  nobler  powers  mature,  they  begin  to  work  on  the  data  which 
observation  has  furnished  ;  and,  as  he  examines,  he  thinks,  he  fom- 
pares,  he  reflects,  he  reasons ;  he  becomes  aware  of  a  more  powerful 
influence  and  a  deeper  satisfaction  than  that  of  mere  observation,  while 
he  consciously  follows  his  successive  conceptions,  and  meditates  not 
only  on  the  relations  of  object  to  object,  and  of  effect  to  cause,  in  the 
outward  universe,  but  on  the  yet  more  wonderful  and  mysterious  action 
of  his  own  inward  being,  to  the  conciousness  of  which  he  is  now  fully 
awakened.  This  newly-discovered  world  attracts  his  attention  with  a 
yet  greater  force  and  intensity  of  interest  than  that  of  the  external 
sphere,  in  which  he  has  hitherto  moved  ;  and  the  growing  strength  of 
his  intellect,  he  finds,  is  more  fully  exerted  and  more  decidedly  proved 
in  this  inner  region  of  its  action,  than  in  the  outer  field  of  sense  and 
perception.  He  delights,  accordingly,  in  this  conscious  exercise  of  a 
higher  power,  and  recognizes  the  nobility  of  reason. 

Such  is  man's  progress,  even  when  little  assisted  by  the  formal  aids 
of  education.  But  we  see  thus  more  clearly  how  judicious  and  skillful 
training  may  render  conciousness  comparatively  vivid,  definite,  and 
distinct,  by  aiding,  with  appropriate  appliances  of  exercise  and  disci 
pline,  this  capability  of  reflective  contemplation,  of  self-intelligence,  and 
of  self-development,  which  grows  with  the  growth,  and  strengthens 
with  the  strength  of  the  maturing  mind.  If  this  power  is  permitted 
to  He  neglected  and  undeveloped,  the  result  is  uniformly  a  character 
istic  dullness,  obscurity,  and  vagueness  in  the  mind's  habitual  action. 
This  fact  we  recognize,  in  full  exemplification,  when  we  contrast  the 
uncultivated,  half-conscious  child,  youth,  or  man,  with  the  well-edu 
cated  and  the  self-intelligent. 

Mode  of  Culture. — Subjected  to  processes  of  cultivation,  however, 
this  faculty,  like  memory,  can  not  be  brought  under  the  law  of  direct 
action.  Memory  is  to  be  reached  through  attention;  to  enliven  and 
strengthen  the  former,  we  must  work  upon  the  latter.  We  have  no 
more  power  over  it,  separately,  than  we  have  over  the  reflection  of  an 
object  in  a  mirror.  Memory  is  the  reflection  of  attention.  We  can 
not  render  the  image  distinct,  unless  the  object  is  so.  The  same  is 
true  of  consciousness.  It  has  no  separate  or  independent  existence 


140  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

It  is,  so  to  speak,  the  mind's  reflection  of  itself;  it  is  but  an  act  of 
attention  directed  inward.  The  vividness,  the  deOniteness,  and  the 
distinctness  of  consciousness,  are, — as  the  corresponding  properties  in 
the  act  of  attention, — blended  with  the  consentaneous  force  of  will 
cooperating  in  the  act.  In  this  latter  circumstance,  its  action  differs 
from  that  of  memory,  which  is  often,  even  in  its  most  vivid  delinea 
tions,  wholly  involuntary.  But  the  depth  and  fullness  of  conscious 
ness  are  always  dependent,  more  or  less,  on  the  force  of  the  will 
whicfl  directs  the  act  of  attention  inward.  It  is  thus  rendered  more 
perceptibly  a  subject  of  culture  by  educational  training. 

Morbid  Unconsciousness. — To  some  minds  the  intellectual  and 
moral  value  of  habits  of  wakeful  consciousness,  is  very  great  from, 
perhaps,  some  defect  of  organization  or  fault  of  habit,  inclining  the 
individual  to  a  half  dreamy  condition  of  reverie,  in  which  the  mind 
loses  power  over  its  own  action,  and  becomes  lost  amid  the  scenes  of 
memory  or  of  imagination.  To  the  artist  and  the  poet,  an  intensity 
of  abstracted  attention  is,  in  some  relations,  the  condition  of  imagina 
tive  power  of  conception  and  of  living  expression.  But,  in  such  cases, 
the  mind  is  healthy,  vigorous,  and  voluntary,  in  its  action  :  it  is  obey 
ing  one  of  its  own  highest  laws,  which  demands  this  almost  super 
human  power  of  abstracted  and  concentrated  attention,  for  the  contem 
plation  and  embodiment  of  ideal  images  of  perfection.  The  abstract 
edness  and  u  absence  of  mind,"  on  the  other  hand,  which  become 
habitual  from  neglect,  are  nothing  else  than  a  morbid  unconscious 
ness  indulged, — a  result  of  organic  or  mental  weakness,  and  a  habit 
utterly  destructive  of  voluntary  power  of  attention  or  depth  of 
thought.  In  some  mournful  instances,  it  is  the  sure  precursor  of 
insanity. 

In  all  circumstances,  the  tendency  of  such  habits  is  to  cheri^  a 
morbid  preponderance  of  imagination  over  reason  and  judgment,  fhid 
to  create  a  dreamy  twiliglit  of  thought,  in  preference  to  the  clear 
light  of  intellectual  day.  Listlessness  of  attention,  and  dullness  of 
understanding,  and  every  other  evil  of  mental  torpor,  are  thus 
entailfd  on  the  intellectual  character. 

Cultivation  of  the  Reasoning  Faculty. — The  principle  of  reflective 
intelligence  assumes,  in  the  language  of  recognized  usage,  the  various 
forms  of  action  implied  in  the  terms  understanding,  judgment,  reason  / 
and  this  triple  denomination  suggests  also  the  progressive  measures 
adopted  in  education,  for  the  cultivation  of  this  master  power  of 
intellect. 

Understanding,  as  the  primary  act  and  condition  of  intelligence,  is 
involved  in  every  instance  of  perception,  even  in  the  cognizance  of  the 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  141 

mere  form  and  character  of  outward  objects ;  in  the  contemplation 
of  facts,  its  aid  is  indispensable  to  the  apprehension  of  their  connec 
tions  and  relations  ;  and,  in  the  tracing  of  these,  its  assistance  is  requi 
site  to  enable  the  mind  to  arrive  at  the  comprehension  of  principles  and 
causes.  When  the  mind  is  unable  to  put  forth  this  prehensile,  (seiz 
ing,  grasping,  holding,)  power,  we  say,  in  current  phrase,  the  connec 
tion,  the  principle,  the  cause,  or  the  relation,  is  u  not  understood." 
Reverting  to  the  etymological  signification  of  the  term,  by  which  this 
faculty  is  designated,  we  observed  that  the  action  of  the  "understand 
ing  "  was  represented  as  a  necessary  ground,  or  foundation,  without 
which,  of  course,  there  could  be  no  superstructure  of  thought  or 
knowledge.  In  the  terms  now  introduced,  which  denote  the  two 
chief  forms  of  action  in  the  process  of  understanding,  the  figurative 
suggestion  is  not  less  forcible  or  appropriate,  than  in  the  former  in 
stance.  The  uninformed  understanding,  is,  in  the  latter  case,  repre 
sented  as  \\\Q  powerless  hand,  which  is  not  put  forth,  which  does  not 
lay  hold  on  its  object,  or  which  lets  it  slip. 

Natural  Development  of  the  Understanding.  —  The  appropriate 
training  of  this  fundamental  faculty  of  the  mind  is  distinctly  indicated 
to  the  educator  in  the  first  natural  workings  of  intellect  in  child 
hood.  The  inciting  principle  of  curiosity  impels  the  child  to  observe 
and  to  learn.  But  he  is  not  satisfied  with  the  mere  knowledge  of  the 
external  character  of  objects ;  he  is  eagerly  desirous  to  understand 
their  internal  construction,  and  hence  he  tears  open,  and  pulls  to 
pieces,  even  the  flower  which  delights  him ;  and  the  indulgent  father 
knows  that  it  needs  a  sharp  eye  to  keep  the  little  investigator  from 
practicing  a  similar  experiment  on  a  gold  watch. 

Educational  Development. — That  spirit  of  inquisition  which  is  im 
planted  in  the  mind,  to  secure  its  progressive  development,  renders 
the  examination  and  inspection  of  objects,  for  the  discovery  of  their 
internal  structure  and  character,  an  exercise  still  more  attractive  and 
inviting  to  a  child  than  that  of  the  perception  even  of  beauty  in  form 
or  color  ;  and  the  investigation  of  the  connection  and  relations  of 
phenomena  and  of  facts,  yields  him  a  deeper  gratification  than  the 
delight  arising  from  the  recognition  of  any  merely  exterior  trait  of 
character  in  outward  objects.  Here,  then,  is  the  proper  place  where 
to  commence  the  training  of  the  understanding  to  the  exercise  of 
true  apprehension  and  full  comprehension,  in  the  acqusition  of  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  objects  by  which  the  child  is  naturally  sur 
rounded,  and  of  their  relations  to  one  another,  in  mutual  adaptation, 
or  in  cause  and  effect.  Perception  is  thus  transmuted  into  knowledge  ; 
without  which  transition  there  is  no  intellectual  progress.  The 


142  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

understanding  of  relations  is  the  mediating  process  by  which  object  is 
linked  to  object,  fact  to  fact,  and  relation  to  relation  ;  till  knowledge,  in 
its  turn,  becomes  the  completed  chain  of  principle  and  truth,  in  the 
relations  of  system  and  science. 

Practical  Exercises. — One  of  the  most  hopeful  indications  of  the 
general  progress  of  opinion  on  the  subject  of  education,  is  afforded  in 
the  comparatively  recent  introduction  into  primary  schools  of  lessons 
on  objects, — not  merely  the  productions  of  nature  in  animal  and  vege 
table  and  mineral  form,  but  the  common  objects  of  observation  in  the 
child's  daily  notice  at  home  and  in  school,  in  the  street,  and  in  the 
•workshop.  The  young  mind  is  thus  strengthened,  while  it  is  gratified, 
by  the  exercise  of  tracing  design  and  adaptation  in  the  various  contriv 
ances  of  mechanical  ingenuity.  The  conscious  understanding  of  re 
lations  and  processes,  becomes  to  the  mind  what  the  expanding  and 
enlivening  influence  of  light  is  to  the  plant;  while  the  self-intelligent 
agent  enjoys  the  double  pleasure  of  growth  and  the  consciousness  of 
it.  Understanding,  as  the  mind's  prehensile  and  digestive  power,  ap 
propriates  to  itself  the  material  of  its  own  life  and  strength,  and  quickens 
and  expands  with  every  acquisition,  till  it  reaches  the  culminating 
point  of  the  full  maturity  and  vigor  of  a  well-developed  capacity. 

Observation  of  the  processes  of  Ntiture. — Next  to  the  study  of  the 
elementary  principles  and  application  of  mechanics,  as  a  means  of  en 
lightening  and  invigorating  the  understanding  by  disciplinary  exercises 
in  tracing  combination  and  operations  to  their  causes,  should  come 
appropriate  exercises  in  watching  and  tracing  the  great  processes  of 
nature,  daily  passing  before  the  learner's  observation,  and  inviting  him 
to  the  study  of  those  larger  displays  of  power  and  intelligence,  which 
are  exhibited  in  the  mechanism  of  the  worlds  moving  in  space,  and 
obeying  the  laws  of  time. 

The  chemistry  of  nature,  too,  should  be  made  to  furnish  ample  em 
ployment  for  the  exercise  of  the  understanding,  in  tracing  the  curious 
relations  which  that  vast  department  of  knowledge  discloses.  No 
science  has  more  power  than  chemistry  to  stimulate  curiosity,  and  pro 
voke  inquiry,  and  thus  invite  the  mind  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of 
nature,  and  evolve  the  hidden  causes  and  secret  influences  at  work  in 
phenomena,  which  the  mind  can  not  contemplate  without  the  feeling 
of  wonder,  and  which,  at  first,  seem  to  baffle  the  power  of  intelli 
gence ;  but  through  which  the  prying  eye,  of  the  understanding 
learns,  ere  long,  to  penetrate,  in  the  inquest  of  relations  by  which 
mystery  is  solved  and  difficulty  explained.  A  simple  elementary 
cour*»e  of  experiments,  in  this  department  of  science,  by  the  light 
which  it  sheds  on  common  phenomena,  exerts  a  great  power  over  the 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  143 

young  mind; — suggesting  inquiries  and  leading  to  investigations 
which  call  the  understanding  into  wakeful  and  vigorous  action  on  all 
facts  accessible  to  observation.  The  teacher,  who  is  true  to  his  office, 
as  guardian  of  the  young  mind,  and  who  takes  pleasure  in  aiding  the 
formation  of  habits  of  intelligence  and  inquiry,  will  spare  neither 
time,  nor  trouble,  nor  expense,  in  his  endeavors  to  secure  to  his  pupils 
the  benefit  of  such  aids  to  their  intellectual  culture. 

Combined  Exercises  of  Understanding  and  Judgment :  Arithmetic. 
In  the  department  of  mathematical  science,  there  is  no  lack  of  at 
tention  to  the  study  of  arithmetic,  as  an  important  branch  of  exercise 
and  discipline  for  the  reflective  faculties,  in  the  relations  of  the  under 
standing  operating  on  numbers.  In  this  branch  of  culture,  the  pure 
ly  mental  processes  first  introduced  by  Pestalozzi,  and  transferred  to 
American  schools  by  the  late  Warren  Colburn,  have  let  in  a  flood  of 
light  not  only  on  the  subject  of  arithmetic,  as  an  instrument  of  intel 
lectual  discipline,  but  on  the  whole  field  of  education,  and  on  all  the 
details  of  methods  of  instruction,  as  regards  the  principles  of  rational 
and  genial  development  applied  to  the  human  mind.  Whatever  may 
be  the  case  elsewhere,  there  are  few  schools,  in  New  England  at  least, 
in  which  arithmetic  is  not  philosophically  and  successfully  taught;  and 
the  vast  improvement,  or  rather  the  entire  renovation  of  the  character 
of  our  primary  schools,  since  the  introduction  of  Colburn's  method, 
may  well  suggest  to  the  thoughtful  teacher  the  immense  amount  of 
benefit  which  would  certainly  follow  corresponding  changes  in  other 
departments  oj*  Education. 

Geometry, — Another  branch  of  mathematics  admirably  adapted  to 
the  cultivation  of  the  mind's  reflective  and  reasoning  powers,  when 
applied  to  external  relations,  and  one  which  forms,  by  its  very  nature,  the 
vestibule  to  all  the  other  apartments  of  the  great  temple  of  knowledge, 
has  not  commonly  met  with  that  attention  or  that  place  which  its  im 
portance  requires.  Geometry  is  too  commonly  deferred  till  a  late 
stage,  comparatively,  in  the  progress  of  education  ;  and  it  is,  for  the 
most  part,  taught  abstractly,  commencing  with  its  linear  forms.  But 
the  few  teachers  who  have  ventured  to  break  away  from  the  trammels 
of  routine  and  prescription,  and  who  have  taken  their  suggestion  from 
the  obvious  fact  that,  even  in  early  childhood,  the  mind  is  delighted  with 
the  observation  of  definite  forms  in  all  their  simple  varieties,  and  that, 
at  this  stage  of  progress,  form  exists  only  in  the  visible  and  tangible 
concrete,  and  not  in  the  abstract, — the  few  teachers  who  have  here 
followed  nature's  course,  and  allowed  the  young  learner  to  commence 
an  easy  elementary  .and  practical  study  of  geometry  in  its  relation  to 
solid  objects,  have  found  no  difficulty  arising  from  permitting  children 


144  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

to  commence  their  attention  to  this  branch  of  knowledge  at  a  very 
early  age,  and  to  unspeakable  advantage,  as  regards  the  exactness  of 
mental  habit  which  this  mode  of  discipline  so  peculiarly  tends  to  form. 

From  the  observation  and  study  of  the  solid,  the  transition  is 
rational,  natural  and  easy  to  the  consideration  and  examination  of  its 
surface ;  and  here  another  wide  field  of  thought  is  opened  to  the 
mind  of  the  juvenile  learner, — yet  one  which  is  perfectly  practicable 
to  his  faculties,  and  which  he  can  always  submit  to  actual  survey  and 
ocular  measurement.  With  the  solid  bodv  in  his  hand,  the  little 
student  finds  it  an  easy  and  a  pleasing  step  to  proceed  from  the  con 
templation  of  the  surface,  to  that  of  its  " edyes"  as  he  calls  the 
boundary  lines  of  the  surface;  and  here  still  another  delightful  scope 
of  observation  opens  to  his  mind,  as  he  proceeds  to  compare  line  with 
line,  and,  applying  the  definite  and  exact  relations  of  number,  learns 
to  measure,  and  thus  to  give  certainty  and  precision  to  his  observations, 
and  accuracy  to  his  conceptions. 

General  Effects  of  Mathematical  Discipline. — In  the  more  advanced 
stages  of  education,  the  modes  of  instruction  in  the  department  of 
mathematics,  are,  from  the1  nature  of  the  subject,  of  a  character  so 
definite  and  comparatively  immutable  as  to  suggest  methods  and  forms 
of  exercise  uniform  and  sure.  Hence,  the  admirable  results  secured  by 
the  discipline  to  which  the  reasoning  powers  are  subjected  in  the 
prosecution  of  these  studies.  The  value  of  mathematical  training 
consists,  chiefly,  in  the  exactness  of  attention  and  discrimination,  and 
in  the  orderly  procedure  of  thought  required  in  th*  processes  which 
it  prescribes,  and,  consequently,  in  the  correctness  of  conception  and 
accuracy  of  judgment  thus  attained  in  the  habits  of  the  mind. 
Another  invaluable  advantage  of  mathematical  studies,  connected 
more  immediately,  however,  with  their  advanced  stages  of  mental  ap 
plication,  consists  in  the  extent  and  scope  of  their  operations,  com 
bined  with  the  perfect  sequence  of  every  step  in  their  procedure,  and 
the  confidence  which  they  serve  to  create  in  the  mind's  own  action,  by 
the  certainty  of  its  conclusions. 

The  main  duty  of  the  teacher,  in  this  department  of  education,  lies, 
from  the  very  character  of  the  subject,  in  watching  carefully  the 
mind's  first  steps  in  the  earliest  stages  of  exercise ;  so  as  to  see  to  it 
that  the  perfect  rigor  of  intellectual  discipline  is  attained,  which  mathe 
matical  science  is  designed  to  producet  that  there  be  no  yielding  to 
juvenile  impatience,  tending  to  laxity  of  attention,  careless  assumption, 
heedless  oversight,  and  unconscious  inaccuracy  of  mental  habit.  lu 
more  advanced  stages  of  progress,  the  successive  branches  of  the  sub 
ject  afford,  by  their  own  intrinsic  character,  a  comparative  security 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES  145 

for  correctness  in  the  processes  of  evolution,   and  especially  in  the 
case  of  all  students  whose  first  steps  have  been  carefully  watched. 

Common  Mistake. — There  is  an  opinion  somewhat  prevalent,  even 
among  those  who  have  the  control  of  education,  that  the  certainty 
of  mathematical  reasoning,  depending  on  the  peculiar  character  of  the 
grounds  on  which  it  rests,  has  but  little  effect  on  the  format  ion  of  ac 
curate  habits  of  judgment  in  relations  which  have  no  firmer  founda 
tion  than  matters  of  opinion,  or  of  taste,  or  of  metaphysical  inquiry. 
But,  in  this  view  of  the  question,  the  inevitable  influence  of  the  law 
of  analogy  on  the  constitution  and  habits  of  the  mind  is  overlooked. 
The  educational  effect  of  any  study  lies  not  so  much  in  the  specific 
character  of  the  subject,  or  the  particular  exercises  of  intellect  which 
any  one  of  its  processes  requires,  as  in  the  analogous  tendencies  and 
habits  which  the  given  exercise  contributes  to  form.  The  perfect  pre 
cision  of  observation,  the  scrupulous  correctness  of  judgment,  and  the 
strict  sequence  of  thought,  which  mathematical  operations  demand, 
are  invaluable  aids  to  every  process  of  mind  in  which  the  reasoning 
faculties  are  employed.  A  disproportioned  excess  of  attention  to 
mathematics  in  the  assignments  of  education,  may,  certainly,  be. 
chargeable  on  the  plan  of  intellectual  culture  adopted  in  many  semi 
naries  of  learning,  and,  particularly,  of  such  as  are  devoted  to  the 
mental  training  of  the  female  sex.  But  this  mistake,  like  that  of  at 
tempting  the  exposition  of  moral  truth  by  mathematical  forms  of 
reasoning,  does  not  prove  any  want  of  adaptation  in  mathematics  to 
the  design  and  purpose  of  intellectual  discipline  on  kindred  subjects, 
or  in  the  results  of  such  discipline  in  the  formation  of  mental  habits 
and  character. 

Logical  and  Critical  Discipline. — Of  the  great  importance  of.  a. 
thorough  practical  logic,  for  the  discipline  of  the  reasoning  faculties, — 
a  course  comprising  processes  of  strict  personal  training  in  the  art 
of  thinking, — we  have  had  occasion  to  speak,  under  other  heads  of  our 
present  investigation,  and  on  this  topic  we  need  not  now  enlarge. 

Another  department  of  higher  mental  culture,  the  art  of  criticism, 
was  briefly  adverted  to,  on  a  former  occasion.  As  one  of  the  highest 
forms  iu  which  reason  can  be  applied,  and  as  the  ground- work  of  all 
true  discipline  of  imagination  and  taste,  it  claims  a  large  share  of  at 
tention  in  educational  training.  But,  to  render  this  department  of 
study  truly  beneficial,  it  needs  a  thorough  revision  and  enlargement 
of  its  plan.  As  generally  adopted  in  our  seminaries  of  learning,  it  is 
made  to  consist  too  much  of  processes  of  training  by  which  the  men 
tal  eye  is  sharpened  for  the  perception  of  error  and  the  detection  of 
defect.  This  is  but  the  negative  part  of  critical  discipline,  and  is 

1  J 


146  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

chiefly  directed  to  the  faults  of  others,  rather  than  those  of  the  observer 
himself;  while,  as  a  forming  and  moulding  process,  its  chief  benefit 
would  lie  in  its  efficacy  in  training  the  mind  to  the  percoption  and 
recognition  of  positive  beauty  and  perfection,  and  in  forming  the  tastes 
and  habits  of  the  individual  by  a  strict  but  genial  preventive  discipline, 
which  should  preclude  the  tendency  to  deviation  from  the  principles 
of  beauty  and  truth.  To  secure  the  results  of  such  discipline,  a  liberal 
course  of  early  training,  directed  to  the  intelligent  recognition  of 
beauty  in  nature  and  in  art, — as  was  suggested  in  a  former  lecture, — 
becomes  an  indispensable  foundation.  The  reasoning,  on  the  data 
thus  furnished,  would  necessarily  become  positive  and  practical.  The 
mind  would  proceed  under  the  sure  guidance  of  ascertained  principle  ; 
and  the  canons,  so  called,  of  criticism,  would  have  an  authority  more 
sure  than  merely  the  speculative  opinions  of  an  individual,  or  of  a 
class  of  theorizers.  But,  so  far  are  we,  as  yet,  from  a  truly  liberal 
standard  of  education,  that  in  .all  our  higher  seminaries,  scarcely  can 
we  find  a  place  assigned  to  any  course  of  aesthetic  study  or  training. 
Yet  no  species  of  discipline  could  be  prescribed  so  admirably  adapted 
to  the  generous  development  of  the  powers  of  judgment  and'  reason, 
as  that  critical  exercise  by  which  the  mind,  in  the  analysis  and  combi 
nation  of  the  elements  of  beauty,  learns  to  interpret  to  its  own  con 
sciousness  the  laws  of  grace  and  of  harmony. 

Philosophical  Training. — The  principles  of  intellectual  and  moral 
philosophy,  we  have  already  adverted  to,  as  peculiarly  adapted  to  the 
.discipline  of  the  reflective  faculties.  The  great  facts  which  the  mind 
recognizes  in  contemplating  the  principles  of  the  former  of  these 

branches  of  science,  and  the  vital  truths  which  it  evolves  in  tracing  the 

& 

relations  of  the  latter  to  the  former,  call  for  the  exercise  of  reason 
and  judgment  on  materials  purely  mental,  and,  by  their  very  nature, 
fitted  to  train  the  mind  to  habits  of  close  investigation  and  nice  dis 
crimination.  On  these  habits  is  the  mind's  whole  reliance  to  be  placed 
in  tracing  the  subtle  distinctions  on  which  the  eviction  of  the 
profoundest  truths  not  unfrequently  depends. 

On  such  subjects,  as  also  in  relation  to  logic  and  criticism,  it  was 
suggested,  in  a  former  connection  of  our  subject,  that  education  should 
be  rendered  more  personal  and  practical  in  its  methods  ;  that  it  should 
comprise,  in  its  measures  for  discipline,  the  mental  efforts  of  the 
student  himself  in  thought,  conversation  and  discussion,  rather  than 
the  mere  endeavor  to  retain  in  memory  the  definitions  and  statements 
of  a  text-book. 

Civic  Training. — The  study  of  civil  polity,  as  it  comprehends 
subjects-  collateral  to  history  and  to  ethics,  forms  a  theme  well-suited 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  ^47 

to  the  exercise  of  the  mind's  reflective  powers,  by  the  trains  of  thought 
to  which  it  naturally  leads.  As  a  branch  of  education,  it  should  be 
extended  to  an  attentive  survey  of  all  the  political  relations  of  human 
society,  as  embodied  informs  of  government,  in  national  constitutions, 
in  international  law,  in  civil  institutions.  Independently  of  the  value 
of  such  investigations  to  the  intelligent  discharge  of  the  duties  of  life, 
in  all  countries  favored  with  constitutional  immunities,  the  class  of 
subjects  now  mentioned  is  of  the  utmost  moment  in  the  higher  rela 
tions  of  education,  as  affording  large  scope  and  full  exercise  for  the 
reasoning  powers,  in  the  investigations  and  discussions  to  which  such 
subjects  naturally  invite  the  mind  of  the  student.  The  discipline, 
however,  resulting  from  this  branch  of  studies,  depends,  obviously,  on 
the  extent  to  which  it  is  made  a  matter  of  personal  thought,  of  writ 
ten  dissertations,  and  of  oral  discussion,  on  the  part  of  the  student. 
In  this,  as  in  other  departments  of  ethical  science,  our  colleges  would 
do  well  to  arrange  their  exercises  on  the  model -of  the  debating  society, 
or  of.  the  moot-courts  of  professional  schools;  so  as  to  elic.it  voluntary 
mental  action  and  effective  cooperation  on  the  part  of  students  in  their 
own  education.  The  random  exercises  of  debating  clubs,  as  they  are 
commonly  conducted,  in  which  little  or  no  systematic  preparation  is 
made  for  discussion,  do  not  serve  such  a  purpose..  For  educational 
influences,  careful  premeditation  and  critical  supervision  are  equally 
necessary  to  render  discussion  an  appropriate  discipline. 

Natural  Theoloyy  forms  another  branch  of  study  peculiarly  fitted 
to  call  forth  and  improve  the  reflective  and  reasoning  powers  of  the 
mind.  Every  new  advance  of  science  gives  additional  attractions  to 
this  ennobling  theme  of  contemplation.  The  profound  thought  to 
which  it  leads,  the  large  analogies  which  it  reveals,  the  great  truths 
which  it  urges  home  to  the  mind,  the  sublime  heights  to  which  it 
conducts  aspiring  reason, — all  indicate  the  high  value  of  this  branch 
of  philosophic  investigation,  as  an  effective  means  of  enlarging  and 
invigorating  the  noblest  faculties  with  which  man  is  invested. 

The  subject  of  natural  theology  is,  by  no  means,  neglected  in  our 
customary  routine  of  studies,  either  in  schools  or  colleges.  It  is  care 
fully  designated  on  the  programme  of  instruction,  and  regularly 
assigned  to  a  definite  term  of  the  course.  But  restricted,  as  the  atten 
tion  given  to  these  subjects  generally  is,  to  recitation  from  a  formal 
text-book,  little  of  the  peculiar  effect  of  personal  investigation  into 
them  is  felt  on  the  mind  at  the  time,  or  marked  on  the  subsequent 
mental  character  of  the  student.  Personal  examination,  and  actual 
analysis  and  manipulation,  are  as  much  needed  in  the  illustrations 
which  serve  to  throw  light  on  the  subject  of  natural  theology  as  they 


148  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

are  in  the  study  of  any  other  branch  of  science.  The  actual,  ocular 
inspection  of  objects,  is  felt  to  be  the  only  means  of  effective  instruc 
tion  in  all  other  subjects  which  require  the  verification  of  principle  by 
reference  to  fact.  Without  the  aid  of  such  practical  measures,  the 
best  of  text-books  becomes  dry  or  tedious,  and,  at  all  events,  fails  of 
exciting  the  earnest  attention  and  personal  interest  which  secure  the 
energetic  action  of  the  whole  mind,  give  life  and  vigor  to  its  habits 
of  action,  and  insure  the  further  prosecution  of  inquiry  in  after  stages 
of  life. 

To  secure  an  earnest  voluntary  application  to  this  noble  study  is  not 
difficult,  if  the  instructor  take  pains  to  invite  his  students  to  personal 
investigation  of  the  numberless  evidences  of  Divine  power,  wisdom, 
and  goodness,  which  are  furnished  in  every  department  of  nature. 
The  pleasure  of  observing,  recording,  and  reporting  these,  is  one  to 
which  the  teacher  who.  wilt  faithfully  make  the  experiment  will  find 
few  minds  so  torpid  as  to  be  insensible. 

Evidences  of  Christianity. — This  subject,  too,  has  its  appointed 
place  in  our  seminaries  of  learning;  and  that  it  is  a  study  required  in 
our  higher  schools  for  the  female  sex,  as  well  as  in  our  colleges,  is  a 
happy  indication.  But,  the  unintellectual,  unmeaning  process  of 
reciting  merely  the  paragraphs  of  a  text-book,  has  the  same  injurious 
effect  in  this  as  in  other  departments  of  education.  No  subject  can 
be  presented  to  the  mind  on  which  the  importance  of  clear  and  distinct 
views,  or  deep  impressions  and  personal  convictions  of  truth,  are  so 
important  to  the  student,  as  on  this ; — none  on  which  the  utmost 
rigor  of  deduction,  the  closest  investigation,  the  most  cautious  induc 
tion,  are  so  imperatively  demanded.  The  mere  verbatim  committing 
to  memory,  or  even  the  careful  recapitulation,  of  the  arguments 
presented  in  the  best  of  manuals,  is  a  process  too  passive  for  any  valu 
able  purpose  of  educational  influence  on  the  individual.  The  second 
hand  knowledge  thus  acquired,  makes  too  slight  an  impression  to 
become  a  permanent  personal  possession ;  as  the  experienced  teacher 
has  sometimes  cause  to  feel  most  deeply,  when  he  sees  a  promising 
youth,  who  has  recited  his  way  successfully  through  a  whole  manual 
of  "  evidences,"  so  easily  caught  and  entangled  in  the  slight  web  of 
superficial  and  sophistical  arguments  offered  by  a  fluent  fellow-student, 
inclined  to  skeptical  habits  of  thought. 

The  result  is  quite  different  when  the  instructor  prescribes,  not  the 
mere  language  or  reasoning  of  a  single  author,  but  a  careful  compari 
son  of  several,  and  a  resume  prepared  by  the  student  himself,  together 
with  a  full  statement  of  objections,  and  the  arguments  by  which  these 
are  rebutted.  A  still  deeper  impression  is  made  on  the  mind  of  the 
individual,  when  such  recapitulations  are  made,  not  only  in  the  regular 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  549 

form  of  writing,  but  in  that  also  of  deliberate,  correct,  and,  if  possible, 
earnest  oral  expression.  It  is  -thus  only  that  great  and  vital  truths 
can  be  wc^ven  into  the  texture  of  his  own  mind,  and  become,  as  it 
were,  inseparable  parts  of  itself. 

Practical  Exercises. — In  conclusion  of  these  suggestions  regarding 
the  development  and  discipline  of  the  reflective  faculties,  a  few  other 
forms  of  practical  exercise  may  deserve  attention,  as  matters  which 
devolve  on  the  personal  action  and  diligence  of  the  teacher, — in  regard 
to  the  aid  which  his  living  instructions  and  intelligent  supervision 
ought  to  furnish,  in  addition  to  the  customary  course  prescribed  in 
manuals  or  text-books  ;  and  here  we  may  advert  to  the  great  value  of 

(1.)  Systematic  Reading,  as  a  means  of  cultivating  reflective  and 
thoughtful  habits  of  mind, — reading,  I  mean,  which  is  study,  and  not 
mere  perusal  p  reading  which  is  attentively  done,  carefully  reviewed, 
exactly  recorded,  and,  if  practicable,  orally  recounted.  Memory, 
under  such  discipline,  becomes  thoroughly  retentive,  information 
exact,  judgment  correct,  conception  clear,  thought  copious,  and 
expression  ready  arid  appropriate. 

(2.)  An  important  aid  to  systematic  reading  may  be  found  in  the 
exercise  of  writing  a  careful,  marginal  synopsis  of  valuable  works, 
comprising  all  their  principal  topics,  distinctly  presented,  and,  in 
addition  to  this,  a  penciled  analysis  of  every  prominent  head  or  para 
graph  into  its  constituent  subordinate  details.  In  the  case  of  standard 
works  of  great  value  and  permanent  authority,  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  draught  a  separate  plan  of  the  entire  work  under  study,  in  which 
the  synopsis  and  the  analysis  are  so  arranged  to  the  eye,  that  the 
advantage  of  a  mental  map  of  the  whole  subject  is  secured  for  distinct 
and  easy  recollection,  by  the  union  of  logical  and  ocular  method. 

(3.)  As  a  means  of  training  the  faculty  of  judgment  to  correctness 
in  its  decisions,  and  exactness  in  discrimination,  exercises  in  analysis, 
on  every  description  of  material,  are  of  the  greatest  value.  In  the 
earliest  stages  of  education,  these  may  be  performed,  to  great  advan 
tage,  on  objects  in  nature,  particularly  on  the  structure  and  organiza 
tion  of  plants,  with  the  aid,  too,  of  the  microscope.  At  a  more  advanced 
stage,  the  analysis  ot  language,  successively  extending  to  sentences, 
clauses,  phrases,  words,  and  syllables,  in  written  as  well  as  oral  forms, 
is  another  exercise  of  great  value  for  sharpening  the  power  of  discrimin 
ation  and  forming  habits  of  correct  judgment.  Still  greater  benefit 
attends  the  oral  analysis  of  discourses,  essays,  and  other  didactic  com 
positions,  for  the  purpose  of  tracing  their  authors'  trains  of  thought, 
following  these  in  detail,  and  afterward  recording  the  analysis,  as  has 
been  already  suggested. 


150  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES 

(O  To  cultivate  successfully  the  reasoning  faculty,  no  method  inoro 
effectual  can  be  adopted  than  that  of  training  the  mind  to  a  perfect 
observance  of  the  prime  law  of  Order.  This  great  principle  comes  to 
the  aid  of  the  young  mind,  as  creative  ordination  applied  to  chaos. 
The  countless  multitude  and  variety  of  objects  soliciting  observation, 
in  the  early  years  of  childhood,  and  even  at  much  later  stages,  often 
throw  the  mind  into  confusion  and  perplexity,  till  order  conies  to  its 
aid,  and,  like  the  benevolent  fairy  in  the  fable,  arranges  the  compli 
cated  masses  and  irregular  accumulation?,  and  lets  in  the  light  of 
system  and  method  upon  the  elements  of  the  mental  world.  Conflict 
ing  objects  and  relations  are  thus  parted  by  due  distinction  ;  accordant 
elements  and  phenomena  are  grouped  together,  by  their  antilogies  and 
affinities,  their  connections  and  dependencies,  the  predominance  of  some 
and  the  subordination  of  others  ;  till,  at  length,  the  authority  of  Law 
is  recognized,  and  harmony  established. 

To  attain  this  result,  Reason,  the  supreme  ordaining  faculty,  has  to 
exert  its  power  in  various  modes  of  operation.  JuJf/nient,  as  reason's 
executive,  has  to  collate,  examine,  compare,  associate,  combine  and 
classify  the  objects  of  observation  and  the  subjects  of  consciousness. 
For  such  purposes  no  exercises  can  be  better  adapted  than  those  which 
commence  with  the  action  of  the  perc eptire  faculties,  and  yet  involve 
the  use  of  the  rejlective,  to  a  certain  extent.  Nature's  great  systems, 
in  her  three  vast  kingdoms,  furnish,  of  course,  the  best  material  for 
such  exercise  and  discipline  of  the  mind,  by  combining  with  its  perceptive 
action  the  aid  of  reflecting  reason,  in  the  contemplation  and  study  of 
the  vast  domain  of  creation.  As  a  noble  discipline  for  the  rational 
faculties,  in  their  ascendancy  over  those  of  outward  observation,  and 
yet  in  perfect  harmony  and  cooperation  with  them,  no  exercise  can  be 
more  beneficial*  than  that  of  surveying,  in  the  light  of  science,  the 
elements  and  forms  of  external  nature.  An  illustration  in  ]>oint  may 
be  found  in  the  science  of  botany,  which  is  now  rendered  so  generally 
accessible  and  so  highly  attractive,  by  recent  manuals  presenting  this 
subject  on  the  "  natural "  system,  as  an  instructive  and  interesting  branch 
of  knowledge  for  all  minds.  Another  example  occurs  in  the  arrange 
ment  of  the  animal  kingdom  presented  by  Cuvier,  and  modified  by 
our  great  contemporary  naturalist,  Agassiz.  The  generous  labors  of 
this  d  stinguished  instructor,  in  his  endeavors  to  bring  his  favorite 
subject  before  the  minds  of  teachers,  in  forms  happily  adapted  to  the 
condition  of  their  schools,  have  afforded  the  best  suggestions  for 
conducting  appropriate  exercises  in  this  department  of  education.  And 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  many  of  our  seminaries  will  henceforward  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  the  admirable  mental  discipline  resulting  from  those 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  15  [ 

habits  of  attentive  observation,  careful  examination,  and  close  analysis, 
as  well  as  those  of  orderly  arrangement,  enlarged  contemplation,  and 
systematic  classification,  which  the  thorough  study  of  nature  is  so  hap- 
pily  adapted  to  insure. 

But  it  should  never  be  forgotten  by  the  teacher  that  it  is  the  extent 
to  which  the  student  is  induced  to  carry  the  personal  observation  and 
actual  collection  of  natural  objects,  arid  the  care  and  fidelity  with 
which  he  arranges  his  specimens  according  to  the  requirements  of 
scientific  classification,  winch  determine  how  far  the-higher  powers  of 
his  mind  will  be  benefited  by  the  study.  There  are  too  many  semi 
naries,  even  now,  in  which  the  teacher,  far  from  following  the  instruc 
tive  personal  example  of  the  eminent  authority  to  whom  we  have  just 
referred,  and  joining  their  students  in  the  actual  exploration  of  nature, 
in  the  field  exercises  of  observing  and  collecting,  permit  them  to  stay 
within  doors,  and  "  study  "  the  whole  subject  by  book. 

The  value  of  personal  observation  and  actual  investigation,  as  the 
only  sure  means  of  rendering  the  educational  materials  furnished  in 
external  nature,  and  in  the  action  of  the  percipient  intellect  on  these, 
conducive  to  the  development  and  discipline  of  the  mind's  reflective 
power,  is  evinced  in  all  the  other  relations  and  departments  of  physi 
cal  science.  The  study  of  astronomy,  as  commonly  conducted  in  our 
seminaries  of  all  grades,  has  been,  till  recently,  a  process  of  mere  book- 
work,  of  committing  to  memory  the  successive  sentences  of  a  manual, 
and  repeating  them  by  word  of  mouth.  The  actual  observation  of 
the  heavens  was  a  thing  not  thought  of  but  as  a  matter  of  occasional 
gratification  to  curiosity ;  while,  to  render  astronomy  an  effective 
instrument  of  mental  culture,  capable  of  awakening  attention  and 
eliciting  reflection,  the  nightly  survey  of  the  varying  aspects  of  the 
firmament,  in  conjunction  with  the  passing  hours,  and  the  actual  posi 
tions,  or  apparent  shifting  of  the  planetary  bodies,  should  be  continued 
till  the  eye  finds  itself,  so  to  speak,  at  home  in  that  upper  world  of 
wondrous  facts,  and  the  observer  can  literally  "  call  the  stars  by  name." 

Many  teachers  have  it  easily  in  their  power  to  render  the  young 
mind  this  noble  service,  which  may  stamp  a  thoughtful  character  on 
its  habits  of  action  for  a  whole  life-time.  Happily,  many  of  our  col 
leges  are  now  enabled  to  offer  to  those  who  enjoy  the  superior  oppor 
tunities  of  study  afforded  by  such  seminaries,  the  facilities  for  actual 
observation,  which  modern  science  and  art  so  amply  provide,  in  this 
department  of  education.  But,  in  most  of  our  higher  schools  and 
academies, — even  in  some  which  are  favored  with  the  possession  and 
occasional  use  of  a  telescope, — the  actual  study  of  the  heavens,  even 
with  the  naked  eye,  or  the  humblest  endeavor  to  note  the  position  and 


152  CULTIVATION  OF  THE   REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES. 

movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  so  as  to  enable  the  learner  intelli 
gently  to  read  the  sky,  remains,  as  yet,  a  thing  seldom  attempted. 

Were  early  education  in  this  department  rightly  conducted,  the 
young  student  would  be  prepared  to  receive  with  delight  those  sub 
lime  revelations  of  astronomical  science  which  exhibit  the  laws  of  order 
and  subordination, — of  mutual  influence  and  adjustment, — ruling  in 
the  apparent  "  wilderness  of  worlds,"  and  indicating  the  controlling 
power  of  that  Reason  which  presides  in  eternal  supremacy  over  the 
universe. 

CONCLUDING  EXPLANATIONS. 

The  brief  and  imperfect  survey  of  the  ground  and  principles  of 
intellectual  culture,  which  is  here  concluded,  was,  as  has  been  inti 
mated,  originally  presented  in  the  form  of  conversational  oral  lectures 
to  successive  classes  of  young  teachers  and  of  persons  intending  to 
enter  on  the  occupation  of  teaching.  The  views  presented  in  these 
lectures  were  adapted,  therefore,  to  the  mental  circumstances  of 
students  to  some  of  whom  any  form  of  systematic  investigation  on  the 
subject  of  intellectual  discipline  was  wholly  new,  and  to  many  of 
whom  the  philosophy  of  education  was,  as  yet,  a  field  unexplored. 
This  fact  will. serve  to  explain  the  strictly  elementary  character  of  the 
preceding  discussion,  and  the  familiar  style  of  its  illustrations,  as  well 
as  tli«  frequent  iteration  of  special  topics  ;  while  the  vast  importance  of 
the  subject  itself,  in  relation  to  the  anticipated  office  and  dutit-s  of  the 
teacher,  as  the  educator  and  guardian  of  the  young  mind,  together 
with  the  acknowledged  too  general  neglect  of  such  considerations, 
rendered  it  necessary  that  the  lecturer  should  endeavor  to  present  the 
whole  work  of  education  in  the  impressive  light  of  the  highest  rela 
tions  and  principles  of  human  action. 

To  some  of  the  readers  of  this  journal,  therefore,  the  whole  series 
of  these  lectures  may  have  seemed  common-place  and  uninteresting  ; 
and  to  others  the  course  of  analysis  may  have  seemed  too  abstract  and 
philosophical  for  the  ordinary  purposes  and  business  of  education. 
Hie  contributor  of  this  and  the  preceding  communications  of  the  scries 
to  the  pages  of  this  journal  can  only  plead,  in  answer  to  both  classes 
of  objections,  that,  for  many  years,  his  personal  field  of  observation 
and  of  action  has  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  endeavor  to  meet  the 
wants  of  ingenuous  minds,  conscious  of  deficiencies  in  their  own  course 
of  early  training,  and  earnestly  desirous  of  the  guiding  light  of  the 
simplest,  yet  the  highest,  educational  principles,  to  direct  their  own 
efforts  for  the  advancement  of  others.  Successive  years,  occupied  in 
three  of  our  New  England  States,  in  endeavoring  to  aid  the  noble 
aspirations  of  those  whose  daily  labors  form  the  ground  of  tho 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES.  153 

intellectual  and  moral  hope  of  the  community,  have  convinced  the  writer 
that  the  teacher's  professional  wants  are  most  satisfactorily  met  'when 
elementary  principles  of  education  are  simply  stated  and  practically 
illustrated,  and  the  highest  relations  of  human  duty  are  presented  as 
the  motives  to  personal  and  professional  action. — Long 'may  the  "  plain 
living  and  high  thinking  "  of  their  ancestry  continue  to  characterize  the 
teachers  of  Xew  England  ! 

The  allusions  made,  in  the  course  of  the  preceding  discussion,  to 
existing  defects  in  "higher"  seminaries,  might  seem  uncalled  for  in  a 
course  of  remarks  addressed  to  young  teachers.  To  explain  this 
apparent  intrusion,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  some  of  the  classes 
to  which  these  lectures  were  originally  addressed  included  among 
their  members  individuals  who,  though  young  both  in  years  and 
experience,  were  graduates  of  the  highest  class  of  literary  institutions, 
were  anticipating  professional  employment  in  such  establishments,  and 
were  attending  the  course  of  lectures  with  reference  to  the  application, 
in  their  personal  instructions,  of  the  principles  under  discussion. 

Apart,  however,  from  this  relation  of  circumstances,  the  considera 
tion  of  principles  of  education,  and  methods  of  instruction,  necessarily 
extends  through  the  whole  educational  course  of  training;  and  defec 
tive  methods  of  teaching  are  but  little  less  injurious  in  the  higher  than 
in  the  lower  forms  of  culture.  The  fact,  moreover,  is  undeniable,  that 
the  renovation  of  the  character  of  instruction,  whether  at  home  or 
abroad,  has  uniformly  commenced  in  the  primary  stages  of  education, 
and  won  its  way  gradually  upward  ; — a  circumstance  easily  accounted 
for,  when  we  recollect  that,  in  the  reformation,  now  so  generally 
effected  in  elementary  teaching,  more  regard  has  been  paid  to  the 
wants  of  the  mind,  and  less  to  the  demands  of  subjects,  than  formerly 
was  the  case  in  the  management  of  primary  schools,  or  than  is  now, 
in  the  customary  regulation  of  institutions  of  the  highest  nominal 
order,  in  most  of  which  the  subject  of  study  is  still  too  uniformly 
regarded  in  preference  to  the  instrument  of  study. 

To  some  readers  of  the  journal,  the  intellectual  philosophy,  involved 
in  the  principles  adopted  in  the  preceding  analysis  of  mental  action 
and  development,  may  not  seem  satisfactory, — as  not  according,  in 
express  terms,  with  established  authorities  on  such  topics.  To  objec 
tions  of  this  character  the  author  can  only  suggest  that,  in  the  circum 
stances  of  many  of  those  to  whom  his  lectures  were  addressed,  it  was 
not  practicable  to  assume  the  data  of  a  previous  course  of  study  in 
intellectual  philosophy  ;  and  all  that  could  properly  be  done,  on  his 
part,  was  to  interweave,  with  his  suggestions  for  the  guidance  of 
instructors  in  their  professional  endeavors,  such  elementary  views  of 

1  K 


154  CULTIVATION  OFTI1E  REFLECTIVE  FACULTIES 

mental  action  and  tendency  as  might  afford  intelligible  ground  for 
these  suggestions. 

At  the  same  time,  the  writer  feels  free  to  say  that,  following  the 
counsels  of  his  own  instructor,  the  venerable  Jardine,  (a  student  and 
successor  of  Dr.  Reid,)  he  could  not  adopt  any  "  system  "  of  intellec 
tual  philosophy  as  such.  All  systems  hitherto  offered  have  contri 
buted  useful  suggestions  -for  the  guidance  of  inquiry.  But  none,  as 
yet,  can  be  regarded  as  exhaustive  or  complete.  The  mind,  as  a  sub 
ject  of  study,  has  not  yet  received  the  humble  measure  of  justice 
which  we  yield  to  a  plant  or  a  mineral, — a  careful  observation  and 
close  examination  of  its  own  character,  apart  from  the  obscuring 
influence  of  the  conflicting  views  and  metaphysical  speculations  of 
great  writers  and  eminent  authorities.  But,  to  the  teacher,,  philosophi  • 
cal  theory  is  a  doubtful  aid,  compared  to  his  own  daily  inspection 
of  the  mind  itself,  in  its  actual  working  and  obvious  tendencies.  He 
is,  if  he  understands  his  position,  himself  a  primary  observer,  authority 
and  reporter,  in  the  science  of  mind,  as  developed  in  the  processes  of 
education.  His  work  is  that  of  a  living  philosopher,  in  act.  To  his 
young  disciples,  he  is  Plato,  and  Socrates,  and  Aristotle,  embodied  in 
one  person  ; — opening  to  their  expanding  minds  the  highest  spiritual, 
moral,  and  intellectual  relations  of  truth. 

The  ground  thus  assigned  as  the  field  of  the  teacher's  labor,  is  not 
too  high  to  be  assumed  by  any  instructor,  whatever  be  the  nominal 
rank  o£  the  seminary  in  which  he  teaches.  A  mind  accustomed  to 
large  views,  and  working  on  broad  principles,  will,  unconsciously  and 
necessarily,  adopt  methods  correspondent,  and  will  radiate,  from  its 
own  action,  light  and  truth  throughout  the  sphere  of  its  influence. 
Nowhere  is  this  statement  more  strikingly  verified  than  in  the  ease  of 
an  intelligent  teacher,  in  the  direction  and  instruction  of  an  element 
ary  school.  It  is  in  this  sphere  that  ingenuity,  and  tact,  and  origin- 
alitv,  and  skill  are  most  needed,  in  endeavors  to  develop  intellectual 
capabilities,  and  build  up  the  great  fabric  of  mental  power.  Nowhere 
else,  in  the  whole  field  of  education,  is  the  demand  so  urgent  for  a 
thorough  insight  into  the  nature  and  working  of  the  mind,  for  the 
light  to  guide  its  advances,  or  the  power  to  mold  its  expanding 
character. 


INDEX. 


Alphabet,  mere  drilling  on,  injurious, 
p.  16  ;  error  of  ojriitting  the  sounds 
of  letters,  81  ;  recognition  of  the 
forms  of  letters^  38. 

Analogy,  the  medium  of  expression,  63. 

Analysis,  preliminary  of  intellectual 
faculties,  11 ;  as  a  process,  facilitated 
bv  training  on  objects,  29;  its  disci 
plinary  character  and  value,  46,  47. 

Apparatus,  educational,  provision  of,  26. 

Art,  pictorial,  as  a  discipline  of  the  per 
ceptive  faculties,  30. 

Articulation,  practice  of,  32. 

Attention,  dettnition  of,  13  ;  as  a  volun 
tary  act,  34,  35 ;  promptness  of,  35  ; 
earnestness,  36  ;  closeness,  37  ;  aided 
by  the  microscope,  conducive  to  al 
phabetic  instruction,  to  mathematical 
attainments,  38  ;  tenacity  of,  its  val 
ue,  how  attained,  3D  ;  ultimate  effects 
on  mental  power,  40. 

Classification  as  a  disciplinary  process, 
55  ;  its  appropriate  materials  lor  early 
training,  56. 

Communication,  the  result  of  the  action 
of  the  expressive  faculties ;  viewed 
as  a  power,  78;  its  intellectual  and 
moral  effects,  its  value,  79. 

Comparison,  as  a  disciplinary  exercise 
f>r  the  expressive  faculties,  "its  influ 
ence  on  rational  and  reflective  pro 
cesses,  5r3 ;  its  relations  to  classifica 
tion  and  induction,  to  order,  method, 
law,  principles^  rule  ;  proper  materi 
als  for  its  exercise, f  54. 

Composition,  practice  of;  defective 
methods,  85  ;  seasonable  training,  86. 

Conception,  etymology  and  acceptation 
of _  the  term,  106  ;  Different  views  of 
this  faculty  j  107 ;  its  susceptibility  of 
culture,  its  intellectual  and  moral  val 
ue,  1(K 

Concluding  explanations,  15*2. 

Consciousness,  etymology  of  the  term, 
108  ;  fitness  of  its  application,  differ 
ent  opinions  of  the  nature  of  this  fac 
ulty,  109  ;  educational  view  ;  intel 
lectual  and  moral  offices  of  conscious 
ness,  110  ;  its  educational  culture,  111. 

Culture,  intellectual,  outline  of,  11,  12. 

Curiosity,  the  actuating  principle  of  the 
perceptive  faculties,  14. 

Deduction,  as  a  process  of  reason,  116. 

Direction,  as  a  didactic  process,  51 ;  ex 
emplified,  52. 

Drawing,  its  effects  as  a  discipline  of 
the  perceptive  faculties,  30;  common 
mistake  regarding  its  relation  to  the 
cultivation  "of  taste,  01. 

Elocutionj  as  a  discipline  of  the  ear;  its 
connections  with  music,  oratory,  poe 
try,  33  ;  errors  in  instruction^  86  ;  in 
theory,  exemplified  by  Dr.  Whately, 
87,  HO. 

Emotion,  its  offices  in  expression  ;  a  re 
sult  of  sensibility,  59  ;  naturally  spon 
taneous  and  involuntary,  the  language 


of  sympathy,  its  various  forms,  60 ; 
its  different  effects ;  its  influence  on 
language,  61. 

English  language,  neglect  of,  81,  99, 
100. 

Enunciation,  its  connection  with  articu 
lation  and  pronunciation,  32. 

Errors  in  education^ — in  the  order  of 
cultivation,  13 ;  in  school  re(/ime, 
16,  19 ;  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
expressive  faculties, — repression,  76  ; 
limited  exercise  in  passive  forms,  80  ; 
incorrect  example,  false  alphabetic 
training,  81 ;  neglect  of  the  meaning 
of  words,  defective  reading  exercises, 
82,  83  ;  arbitrary  methods  of  teaching 
grammar,  composition,  84,  85 ;  rhet 
oric,  elocution,  86 — i  0  ;  drawing,  mu 
sic,  vocal  ;nnl  instrumental,  i<l — 93; 
remedies  for  these  errors,  93 — 100. 

Etymology  of  terms  applied  to  mental 
action,  and  educational  relations,  18, 
49,  50,  lUl,  106,  107,  108,  111,  112, 
116,  117. 

Expressive  faculties,  cultivation  of; 
their  place  in  the  order  of  action  and 
development,  57 ;  classification  of, 
58 ;  their  actuating  principle,  70  ;  their 
tendency,  75  ;  result  of  their  action, 
78  ;  their  educational  processes,  80, 
93 — 100. 

Fancy,  its  effects  on  expression,  64. 

Feeling,  the  actuating  principle  of  the 
expressive  faculties,  70 ;  an  'incite 
ment  to  sympathy,  an  instigation  ;  in 
fluenced  by  imagination  and  volition  ; 
its  influence  on  the  artist,  71}  the 
child,  the  adult,  the  actor  and  his  au 
dience,  the  orator,  the  poet,  and  on 
all  forms  of  expression,  72 ;  on  moral 
character;  on  art,  as  exemplified  in 
musicj  73 ;  on  language  and  litera 
ture  ;  its  subjection  to  the  guidance 
of  education,  74. 

Furniture,  intellectual,  for  schoolrooms, 
16. 

Gesture,  a  subject  of  cultivation,  90. 

Grammar,  methods  of  instruction,  84. 
85. 

Ilolbrook,  Josiah,  an  example  to  teach 
ers,  44. 

Imagination,  significance  of  the  term ; 
sphere  of  the  faculty,  64. 

Imitation,  its  tendencies;  drawing,  as 
an  imitative  art ;  music,  65. 

Inference,  as  a  process  of  reason,  116. 

Information,  as  a  guide  to  observation, 
51,  52. 

Inquiry,  the  actuating  principle  of  tho 
reflective  faculties  ;  its  analogy  to  cu 
riosity,  121. 

Inspection  of  objects,  as  a  disciplinary 
exercise  ;  exemplified  in  botany,  48  ; 
in  zoology,  49. 

T  'errogation,  as  an  intellectual  disci- 
iline,  49;  book  questions,  children's 


questions,  50;  leading  questions,  51. 


15G 


RUSSELL  ON  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION. 


Intuition,  an  act  of  reason,  116. 

Investigation,  the  tendency  of  action  in 
the  reflective  faculties;  its  directions, 
122 — exemplified  in  the  scientific  trav 
eler,  the  astronomer:  the  historian, 
the  philologist,  123 — in  the  mechani 
cian,  the  chemist ;  its  value  in  all  the 
higher  relations  of  thought,  124. 

Judgment,  identical  with  reason,  119. 

Knowledge,  the  result  of  the  action  of 
the  perceptive  faculties,  21 ;  actual. 
22;  verbal  accuracy  a  false  test  of; 
true  knowledge  experimental  and 
personal,  23. 

Language,  a  measure  of  power,  68 ;  its 
value,  61* ;  study  of  languages  ancient 
and  modern,  of*the  English  language, 
98—100. 

Memory,  the  basis  of  reflective  power; 
remembrance,  103;  intellectual  and 
moral  offices  of  memory,  recollection, 
104;  suggestive  power  of  memory, 
105  ;  its  susccptibilit^of  cultivation, 
106. 

Method,  importance  of,  to  the  teacher,  10. 

Methods,  detective,  of  instruction,  re 
garding  the  action  of  the  reflective 
faculties,  127  ;  exemplified  with  ref 
erence  to  reading,  arithmetic,  geogra 
phy,  history,  language,  logic,  intel 
lectual  and"  moral  philosophy,  12'J— 
134 ;  appropriate  methods  for  the  dis 
cipline  of  the  reflective  faculties, 
135—151. 

Modeling,  its  uses  in  training  the  per 
ceptive  faculties,  30. 

Models,  false,  in  music;  their  injurious 
effects,  93. 

Monotony,  evils  of,  in  modes  of  train 
ing,  15* 

Music,  as  a  discipline  for  the  ear,  31 ; 
errors  regarding  it,  91 — 93. 

Nature,  importance  of  early  study  of, 
20;  universal  susceptibility  to  its  in 
fluence,  effects  of  on  mental  charac 
ter,  21  ;  value  of  the  study  and  ob 
servation  of  it,  as  a  discipline  of  in 
tellect,  40. 

Novelty,  need  of  in  modes  of  early 
training,  15. 

Objects,  study  of,  with  reference  to  col 
or,  form,  measure,  number,  organiza 
tion,  27 — 2!». 

Observation,  definition  of,  13  ;  its  influ 
ence  as  an  instinctive  intellectual  ten 
dency.  17;  its  effects  as  a  habit,  18; 
cherished  by  early  attention  to  ele 
mentary  botany,  geology,  mineralogy, 
zoSlogv,  19;  habits  of  attentive  ob 
servation,  how  secured  and  confirmed, 
41—46. 

Perception,  definition  of,  13. 

Perceptive  faculties,  cultivation  of.  9; 
contemplated  with  reference  to  their 
classification,  12,  13;  their  actuating 
principle,  14 — 17;  their  tendency, 
17 — 21 ;  the  result  of  their  action, 
21 — 26 ;  their  appropriate  educational 
processes  of  exercise,  development, 
and  discipline,  2G — 55. 


Personation,  as  a  mode  of  expression, 
06 ;  exemplified  in  the  successive 
stages  of  life,  67. 

Philosophy,  mental  importance  of,  to 
the  teacher,  120. 

Plan  necessary  for  the  guidance  of  the 
teacher,  10.  >  •» 

Processes,  educational,  for  the  disci 
pline  of  the  perceptive  faculties,  12, 
26 — 55;  of  the  expressive,  80,  93 — 
100;  of  the  reflective,  127—151. 

Progressive  intellection,  law  of,  26 ; 
progressive  discipline  of  the  percep 
tive  faculties,  33. 

Ratiocination,  definition  of,  117. 

Kcason, — explanatory  remark,  111 ;  ety 
mology  of  the  term ;  dctiniteness  and 
certainty  of  action  in  this  faculty, 
112  ;  its  offices  in  definition  and  dis 
crimination,  its  authority,  113;  its 
cognizance  of  relations ;"  its  invent 
ive  character.  114;  aberration  of  rea 
son;  uses  of  reason  in  analysis  and 
abstraction,  115;  intuition,  inference, 
deduction,  116;  generalization,  in 
duction,  ratiocination,  117  ;  reason,  as 
cognizant  of  truth,  as  susceptible  of 
cultivation,  118;  judgment,  under 
standing,  119. 

Recollection,  definition  of,  104,  105. 

Reflective  faculties,  cultivation  of;  in 
troductory  observations ;  etymology 
of  terms.  101 ;  classification,  102 ;  act 
uating  principle,  121 ;  tendency,  122 — 
124;  result,  125,  126;  educational 
processes,  127 — 151. 

Remedies  for  errors  regarding  the  culti 
vation  of  the  expressive  faculties, 
93_100. 

Remembrance,  definition  of,  103. 

Representation,  a  'form  of  expression, 
67. 

Repression,  evils  of,  9. 

Revision,  necessity  of  in  the  plan  of 
education,  5,  6. 

Rhetoric,  methods  of  teaching,  86. 

Sensation,  definition  of,  12. 

Senses,  discipline  of;  sight,  color,  27: 
form,  measure,  number,  28 ;  natural 
objects,  animated  forms,  29 ;  the  ear, 
music,  speech,  31. 

Speech  and  writing,  results  of  disci 
pline,  68. 

Taste,  significance  of  the  term ;  char 
acter  of  true  taste,  69 ;  its  positive 
power ;  a  subject  of  culture,  70. 

Teacher,  his  true  point  of  view,  6  ;  his 
aim  in  instruction,  9 ;  his  need  of 
plan  and  method,  10;  his  place  as  an 
observer  of  the  mind,  14  ;  his  proper 
business  as  its  superintendent,  23. 

Truth,  the  result  of  the  action  of  the 
reflective  faculties.  125,  126. 

Understanding,  its  identity  with  reason, 

Utterance,  the  tendency  of  the  express 
ive  faculties,  75 — 78. 

Variety,  its  importance  in  modes  of 
culture,  15. 

Wonder,  ita  analogy  to  curiosity,  15; 
its  effects,  17. 


II.    MORAL   EDUCATION.* 

LECTURES   ADDRESSED   TO   YOUNG   TEACHERS. 

BY    WILLIAM    RUSSELL, 

Editor  of  the  American  Journal  of  Education  (Boston,)  1826-29. 


INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. 

Importance  of  the  Stud;/  of  Mart's  Moral  Constitution. — The 
vital  part  of  human  culture  is  not  tliat  which  makes  man  what  he  is 
intellectually,  but  that  which  makes  him  what  he  is  in  heart,  life,  and 
character.  Intellectual  cultivation,  however,  is  a  source  of  moral 
power  to  the  individual,  not  merely  in  the  mental  aid  which  it  enables 
him  to  render  to  others,  but  in  that  which  it  gives  him  for  the  under 
standing  and  government  of  himself.  All  intellectual  training,  there 
fore,  is  necessarily  moral  in  its  influence,  so  far  as  regards  enlarged 
opportunity  and  power  of  intelligent,  voluntary,  and  efficient  action. 
It  is  only  misguided  ignorance,  blinding  prejudice,  or  perverted  in 
genuity,  that  would  ignore  or  undo,  in  educational  administration,  the 
natural  union  of  morality  with  intelligence. 

A  culture  exclusively  intellectual  serves  but  to  exhibit  the  skeleton 
of  the  mental  frame,  which  moral  influence  is  to  furnish  with  the 
means  and  the  power  of  action,  and  into  which  religious  principle  is 
to  breathe  the  breath  of  life.  But  when  moral  culture  assumes  a 
separate  and  formal  character,  it  ceases  to  be  a  living  spiritual  reality, 
and  becomes  but  a  mechanical  routine  of  "the  letter'7  which,  we  are 
told,  "killeth."  No  reliance  for  effective  moral  influence  on  disposi 
tion  or  character,  can  be  safely  placed  on  mere  didactic  inculcation  or 
catechetical  instruction.  The  oracles  of  Divine  truth  tell  us,  that  the 
highest  moral  training — the  spiritual — does  not  separate  ''  admonition" 
from  "nurture" — the  life-giving  influence — but  combines  the  two  in 
the  educational  process  of  "bringing  up."  The  true  study  of  the 
human  being,  as  a  subject  of  meliorating  culture,  contemplates  the 
child  in  the  living  unity  of  his  whole  nature.  It  regards  him  as  an 
intelligent  self-conscious,  self-impelling,  self-guiding,  self-responsible 
agent,  yet  dependent  on,  and  responsible  to,  the  law  of  a  higher  power 

*At  the  suggestion  of  Hon.  Henry  Barnard  the  following  series  of  lectures  lias  been 
transcribed  from  the  author's  general  course  on  Human  Culture,  orginally  addressed  to  the 
students  of  the  Merrimack,  (N.  H.,)  and  New  England,  (Lancaster,  Mass. )  Normal  Institutes. 
A  previous  series  on  Intellectual  Education,  may  be  found  by  referring  to  Vo!s.  II.,  Ill  ,  and 
IV.,  of  this  Journal. 


158  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

than  his  own,  which  has  summed  up  and  defined  his  individuality  in 
a  conscious  \\  ill. 

All  caivful  investigation,  however,  in  the  mental,  not  less  than  in 
the  physical  world,  implies  an  examination  so  close  as  to  constitute  a 
thorough  analysis — not,  in  this  instance,  for  the  sake  of  a  more  philo 
sophic  solution,  but  for  the  purpose  of  securing  a  true  synthetic  con 
struction  of  life  and  character,  by  the  better  understanding,  so  ob 
tained,  of  constituent  elements  and  the  influences  which  m:iy  best 
secure  their  living  union  and  power.  In  every  process  of  4k instruc 
tion,''  (inward  building.)  the  educator,  whether  parent  or  teacher,  if 
lie  would  work  thoughtfully  and  successfully — if  he  would  avoid  lay 
ing  upon  the  mental  foundation  of  created  capability  a  superstructure 
of  "wood,  luiv,  stubble,"  instead  of  the  "gold,  silver,  and  precious 
stones"  of  true  worth  and  value — is  in  duty  bound  to  see  to  it  that 
lie  attentively  observe,  and  carefully  study,  the  nature  and  constitu 
tion  of  the  being,  whose  fabric  of  character  it  is  his  office  to  aid  in 
building  up.  The  educator  must,  in  a  word,  thoroughly  understand 
and  appreciate  the  elements  of  human  character.  These  must,  be 
familiar  to  him  in  all  their  relations,  and  in  all  their  varied  work 
ings,  that  he  may  understand  more  fully  the  means  and  sources 
of  Ir-althy  action  and  healthful  regimen,  vrhich  it  is  his  duty  to 
prescribe. 

True  position  of  the  Teacher  as  a  Moral  Educator. — Even  to  the 
youngest  and  least  experienced  of  teachers,  who  wishes  to  acquit  him 
self  to  the  moral  obligations  under  which  he  is  professionally  laid, 
equally  to  his  pupils  and  himself,  we  would  earnestly  recommend  not 
the  practice  of  looking  into  some  text- book  of  moral  philosophy,  for 
his  own  guidance,  or  for  the  instruction  of  his  pupils,  but — in  the 
true  spirit  of  an  earnest,  faithful,  and  intelligent  instructor,  who  is 
aware  that  all  he  daily  does  or  omits  is  a  part  of  the  effectual,  living 
education  of  the  subjects  of  his  influence — the  careful  study  and 
watchful  observation  of  the  moral  indications  and  tendencies  of  his 
pupils,  as  intimating  their  capabilities  and  suggesting  his  measures 
and  resources.  It  is  his  part  to  carry  on,  in  successive  stages,  the 
sacred  offices  of  parental  love  and  wisdom,  daily  transferred  to  his 
charge,  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  sphere  of  the  schoolroom,  according  to 
the  measure  of  his  judgment,  his  skill,  and  his  benignity.  P>ut  the 
proper  home  influence,  though  so  often  missing,  is  the  true  ideal  of 
purpose,  plan,  and  work,  for  the  teacher  ;  and,  so  far  as  regards  moral 
results,  in  the  schoolroom  as  at  home,  the  appropriate  influence  must 
ever  be  that  of  an  authoritative,  affectionate,  living,  presence — not 
that  of  an  inanimate  book  or  a  deadening  routine. 

No  one  doubts  that,  to  become  a  skillful  cultivator  of  the  intel 


INTRODUCTORY   OBSERVATIONS.  159 

lectual  capabilities  .of  Iiis  pupils,  the  instructor  must  understand  the 
character  and  action  of  the  intellectual  faculties — not  merely  as  these 
exist  in  the  enumeration  of  particulars  in  a  text-book  of  mental  phi 
losophy,  but  as  they  actually  reveal  themselves  in  the  personal  action 
find  relations  of  the  living  pupil,  in  whatever  concerns  the  use  and 
exercise  of  his  mind.  The  teacher  must  take  the  position  not  of  a 
student  of  intellectual  philosophy,  ruminating  in  his  study,  but  of  a 
wakeful  observer  and  inquirer  into  the  phenomena  of  an  actual,  living 
specimen  of  the  human  mind,  whose  course  is  to  be,  in  part,  depend 
ent  on  the  fidelity  of  his  observation,  and  the  genial  character  of  his 
influence.  Our  previous  course  of  suggestions  on  the  cultivation  of 
the  intellectual  faculties,  it  will  be  recollected,  assumed  this  ground  as 
the  appropriate  and  peculiar  one  of  the  teacher,  and  the  only  one  on 
which  he  could  justly  be  regarded  as  doing  aright  his  professional 
work.  The  same  ground  we  would  claim  for  the  teacher,  when  sur 
veying  the  field  of  moral  culture. 

ARRANGEMENT  OF  TOPICS. 

Recapitulation  of  Method. — The  plan  which  we  propose  to  adopt 
in  the  following  series  of  lectures,  will  still  be,  as  in  the  former  series, 
that  which  places  the  teacher  as  a  responsible  personal  observer  and 
reporter  on  phenomena  and  facts;-  watching  arid  aiding  the  progress 
of  human  development.  Our  survey  of  the  field  of  intellectual  culti 
vation,  as  founded  on  the  nature  and  constitution  of  the  human  being, 
presented,  (1.)  it  will  be  recollected,  a  given  class  of  the  mental  powers 
and  faculties,  themselves,  as  subjects  of  examination  ;  (2.)  the  actuat 
ing  principle,  <6r  moving  spring,  of  these  powers ;  (3.)  their  percepti 
ble  natural  tendency,  or  course  of  action;  '(4.)  the  results  of  their  ac 
tion  ;  and,  (5.)  the  educational  processes  designed  for  their  appropriate 
development. 

Following  this  plan,  we  avoid  all  mere  theoretic  speculation,  and 
stand  on  the  sure  ground  of  observed  fact — the  only  point  of  view 
for  the  discovery  and  recognition  of  truth,  or  the  direction  and  guid 
ance  of  the  teacher.  We  thus,  moreover,  place  the  work  of  educa 
tion  in  the  teacher's  own  hands,  as  a  charge  devolving  on  him,  not 
merely  professionally,  but  personally,  and  laying  him  under  his  just 
responsibility,  as  an  agent  for  others,  and  as  one  intrusted,  in  the 
capacity  of  temporary  guardian,  with  the  dearest  of  all  human  inte 
rests,  and  the  best  of  all  hopes — hopes  extending  even  to  a  never- 
dying  life. 

I.     CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES. 

Unity  of  Man's  Moral  Constitution. — Adopting  the  above  method 
for  our  course  of  suggestions  on  moral  education,  we  should  proceed 


1GO  ^  MORAL  EDV CATION'. 

to  enumerate,  as  a  cla.<s,  the  most  prominent  of  the  peculiar  powers 
and  faculties  which  constitute  man  a  moral  being,  capable  of  moral 
influence,  instruction,  and  development.  Uut  as  every  moral  act 
involves  the  wlfole  man — not  merely  the  executive  organ  of  muscle 
or  nerve,  intellect,  heart  or  will,  but  all,  in  their  living  unity  and 
active  cooperation,  we  can  not,  as  when  examining  the  intellectual 
faculties,  select  any  class  or  group  of  powers  as  exclusively  constitu 
ting  the  moral  capabilities  of  the  human  being.  We  must  take  into 
view  his  whole  nature,  comprehending,  as  it  does,  the  vast  range  of 
his  physical,  intellectual,  emotional,  and  voluntary  attributes,  in  the 
personal  constitution  and  organization  of  the  individual. 

1.  HEALTH  os  an  clement  of  Moral  Life. — Man's  moral  condition, 
and  his  capability  of  moral  development,  depend,  in  no  slight  degree, 
on  that  intimate  connection  which  the  Creator  has  ordained  between 
soul    and    body.     As  a  necessary   condition    of  the    unity  of  man's 
complex  nature,  wholeness   of  being  is  essential  to  whole  and  true, 
that    is,  normal    action,  whether  of  body,  or    of  mind,  or    of  both. 
Physical    disorder,    by    its    reactionary    character,     disintegrates    its 
subject  as  a  moral   agent,  by  withdrawing  the   executive   organism 
from  cooperation  and  consentaneous  action,  in  subordination  whether 
to  the  dictates  of  reason  and  conscience,  the  solicitations  of  feeling, 
or  the  normal  activity  of  the  will.     Physical  suffering,  and  its  attend 
ant  involuntary  irritation,  are  sufficient  to  overcast  the  clear  healthy 
action   of  the  judgment,  to  stifle  the   monitions  of  conscience,   to 
change  the   natural  current  of  affection,  to  generate  angry  passion, 
and  propagate   moral  evil,  to  any  extent — from  the  petty  ebullitions 
of  peevish  temper,  to  the  outbreaks  of  the  fiercest  anger,  or  of  raving 
and  furious  insanity.     Health,  then,  the  educator  must  ever  be  careful 
to  enumerate  among  the  conditions  of  morality,  whether  the  healthy 
state  of  the   agent  be  owing  to  the   normal   sanity  of  mere    bodily 
condition,  or  to  that  health  of  the  higher  nature,  conscience,  which, 
in  man's  fallen  state,  must  so  often  be  invoked,  to  rule  the  turbulent 
and   rebellious  tendencies   of  a   morbid   physical    organization,  and 
which,  when  enlightened,  and  strengthened,  and   purified,  by  super 
nal  aid,  is  a  surer  reliance  than  the   happiest  condition  of  the  best 
normal  animal  life. — To  this  branch   of  our  subject  we   shall   have 
occasion  to  refer  more  distinctly,  under  other  heads,  in   the  discus 
sion  of  parental  and  educational  influences. 

2.  INTELLECT,  and  its  culture,  important  elements  of  Moral  Life. — 
The   vital   fact  of  man's   moral    unity  of  constitution,   involves    the 
condition  of  his  intellectual  nature,  as  sound  and  true,  or  otherwise. 
The  unhealthy  condition  of  the  bodily  organism,  is  sufficient  to  sub 
vert,  as  we  have  seen,  the  whole  moral  character  of  the  numan  being, 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  JQ^ 

in  seasons  of  excessive  morbid  reaction.  Sanity  and  vigor  of  mind, 
not  less  than  health  of  body,  and  conditions  of  moral  life  and  action; 
as  is  sadly  manifest  when  we  advert  to  those  unhappy  cases  in  which 
there  has  been  an  overthrow  or  obscuration  of  the  god-like  power 
of  reason  itself.  Insanity,  whether  in  the  form  of  mental  aberration 
or  delusion,  is  competent  not  only  to  impair,  but  to  obliterate,  the 
distinctive  mental  and  moral  attributes  of  man. 

The  enlightened  humanity  of  our  day  mitigates  by  genial,  and 
sometimes,  successful  treatment,  the  sufferings  of  our  nature,  when 
reduced  to  such  deplorable  conditions ;  and  its  kind  offices  are 
crowned  with  yet  more  marked  success,  in  its  endeavors  to  raise  the 
idiotic  and  the  feeble  minded  to  a  comparatively  healthy  intellectual 
and  moral  level.  It  is  one  of  the  highest  tributes  paid  to  moral 
culture — we  may  observe  in  passing — that  such  replacements  of 
depressed  human  nature  are  generally  recognized  as  owing  their 
success  to  the  purely  moral  measures  adopted  in  effecting  them, 
whether  in  cases  of  insanity  or  of  idiocy. 

Culture  essential  to  Intelligence,  and  therefore,  to  Moral  Elevation. — 
Gross  ignorance,  and  utter  absence  of  mental  culture,  are  proved  to 
be,  in  general,  fruitful  sources  of  crime,  and  of  moral  evil  in  every 
shape.  It  is  not  enough  that  a  sane  mind  and  sound  judgment  be 
taken  into  the  account,  as,  indispensable  elements  in  the  production 
of  legitimate  moral  results  in  action  and  character.  The  intellect 
beclouded  and  darkened  by  ignorance  and  its  attendant  hosts  of 
error  and  prejudice,  or  benumbed  by  neglect  and  disuse,  is  incapable 
of  the  clearness  and  activity  which  belong  to  the  normal  states  and 
conditions  of  the  human  mind.  A  pure,  intelligent,  and  loyal 
adherence  to  principle  and  to  conscience,  can  not,  in  such  circum 
stances,  be  expected  to  exist.  The  character  indicated  in  sacred 
scripture,  "  a  brutish  man"  who  "doth  not  know,"  may  not  have  chosen 
his  condition ;  but,  while  in  it,  he  is  disqualified  for  every  proper 
exercise  of  man's  reflective  and  moral  nature.  The  density  of  igno 
rance  to  which  some  classes  of  the  population  of  European  cities, 
and  the  majority  of  the  slave  population  of  our  own  countiy,  are 
sunk,  shows,  in  its  deplorable  depression,  and  its  nearly  hopeless 
extinction  or  absence  of  conscience,  how  important  the  daylight  of 
knowledge  is  to  a  pure  atmosphere  in  the  human  soul. 

Eoih  of  excessive  CW^'ya^ew.— Morality  necessarily  implies  a 
certain  degree  of  intelligence  and  of  culture.  But,  unhappily,  there 
is,  as  is  too  plainly  apparent  in  the  forms  of  civilized  and  city  life, 
a  condition  in  which  a  moral  inefficiency  of  mind  is  attributable  not 
to  the  absence,  but  to  the  injudicious  excess  of  cultivation ;  and  the 
pale  and  emaciated  features  of  school  children  and  students,  too 

11 


162  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

generally  indicate  the  incompatibility  of  sedentary  life  and  close, 
studious  application,  daily  sustained,  with  a  natural,  healthy  condi 
tion  of  body.  The  parental  complaints  against  schools,  as  under 
mining  the  temper  and  vivacity  of  childhood,  confirm  the  truth  that 
the  "  much  study"  which  "  is  a  weariness  of  the  flesh,"  impairs,  also, 
the  healthy  vigor  and  freshness  of  the  spirit. 

Genial  influence  of  appropriate  early  Culture.~-\\rere  early 
education  what  it  should  be,  a  course  of  invigorating,  life-giving 
observation  of  nature  and  its  products,  and  a  succession  of  healthful, 
inspiring  exercises,  alternating  with  soothing  relaxation  and  cheering 
recreation,  and  a  strictly  limited  and  very  moderate  exercise  of 
pure  intellection  ;  culture  and  intelligence  would  cease  to  be,  as  now, 
too  often  purchased  at  the  expense  of  a  healthy  tone  of  mind  and 
habit.  IVit,  as  we  must  recur  to  this  branch  of  our  subject  when  we 
come  to  the  discussion  of  educational  methods,  we  must  leave  it,  for 
the  present,  with  this  postulate,  that  a  sound,  clear,  vigorous,  and 
well  trained  understanding,  capable  of  correct  and  decisive  judgments, 
is  as  important  as  the  possession  of  reason  itself,  to  constitute  man 
a  responsible,  moral  agent.  In  other  words,  that  his  rational  faculty 
is  a  moral  power. 

3.  ESTHETIC  CULTUKE  :  its  Moral  Influence  on  Imagination  and 
Taxtc. — Among  the  intellectual  sources  of  moral  life  and  power,  a 
prominent  place  must  ever  be  assigned  by  the  judicious  educator 
to  the  moulding  and  directing  efficacy  of  imagination  and  taste.  If 
these  influential  faculties  are  untrue  or  impure  in  their  action  and 
character,  the  tendency  of  the  whole  moral  being  is  "only  evil,  and 
tltat  continually."  If  they  are  sound,  healthy,  pure,  and  vigorous, 
they  become  sure  safeguards,  faithful  guides,  and  genial  companions 
of  the  youthful  spirit.  They,  also,  rise  to  the  rank  of  powers  in  the 
moral  domain  of  humanity. 

Moral  influence  of  the  impressions  of  Sublimity  and  Beauty. — In 
that  commingling  of  intuition,  feeling,  and  imagination,  and,  some 
times,  even  of  reflective  judgment,  by  which  the  soul  is  at  once 
overawed,  and  dVlightecl,  and  exalted,  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
vast,  the  sublime,  the  majestic  in  nature  or  in  thought,  or  in  that 
only  le«8  elevating  influence  which  is  inspired  by  the  blending  effects 
of  greatness  and  grace  in  the  grandeur  of  nature  or  of  noble  art,  or 
even  in  that  delighted  and  admiring  love  which  is  elicited  by  the 
presence  of  beauty  in  the  myriad  forms  and  hues  with  which  the 
Creator  has  invested  the  living  and  ever-varying  aspects  of  nature, 
which  man  delights  to  imitate  in  art; — in  all  these  relations  of  mind 
is  involved  a  moral  element  of  power,  by  which  man's  nature  is 
ennobled  and  purified,  and  prepared,  as  in  the  vestibule  of  a  sanctu- 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE   MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  JQ3 

ary,  for  those  yet  higher  and  more  effective  influences  which  lift  awe 
into  adoration,  and  attract  the  soul  to  the  beauty  of  holiness.  Such 
at  least,  we  know,  is  the  natural  tendency  of  unperverted  mind,  and 
the  experience  of  every  soul  on  which  the  true  Light  shineth. 

The  mind  which,  under  the  purifying  influence  of  genial  culture, 
enjoys  the  refining  emotions  and  clear  perceptions  of  a  true  "taste," 
(relish,)  for  those  pursuits  which  lead  to  the  admiring  contemplation 
of  nature,  and  to  the  practice  of  those  arts  which  enable  man  to 
express  his  admiration  of  nature — possesses,  in  its  love  of  the  beauti 
ful,  a  natural  preparation  for  the  reception  of  all  those  salutary 
impressions  which,  in  a  higher  relation,  are  stamped  upon  the  heart 
by  the  irresistible  power  of  every  trait  of  loveliness  of  disposition  and 
character  embodied  in  the  daily  beauty  of  a  pure  and  amiable  life. 

The  Graphic  Arts  which  embody  and  repeat  and  perpetuate  such 
impressions,  are  not  to  be  overlooked  in  an  enumeration  of  man's  capa 
bilities  of  refining  and  elevating  culture,  even  in  its  strictly  moral  and 
spiritual  relation.  The  dumb  statue,  by  its  perfect  symmetry  and 
grace,  or  its  touching  beauty,  makes  the  heart  eloquent  inwardly  with 
delight  and  love,  with  admiration,  or  with  tenderness  and  sympathy. 
The  portrait  which  recalls  the  image  of  the  lost  and  lovely,  the  good 
and  the  true,  the  noble  and  the  worthy,  speaks  most  touchingly  to* 
us,  from  the  spirit  of  the  departed,  in  the  language  of  the  heart. 
The  landscape  which  skillful  art  presents  as  a  microcosm  of  glorious 
nature,  conjured  from  dead,  material  means  and.  implements,  by  a 
concentration  of  man's  inventive  genius  and  educated  hand,  deepens, 
at  once,  our  love  of  this  our  earthly  home  of  palatial  grandeur  and 
finished  beauty,  benignantly  assigned  us  by  the  great  Father,  for  our 
preparatory  abode,  and  our  admiration  of  the  powers  with  which  lie 
has  endowed  the  beings  created  in  his  image.  The  art  which  at 
once  refines  and  elevates,  does  a  noble  preparatory  work  in  rendering 
more  vividly  susceptible  those  faculties  by  which  the  soul,  when 
awakened  to  the  consciousness  of  its  highest  relations,  is  yet  more 
effectually  purified  and  ennobled. 

But  Music — that  art  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  consecrate 
for  His  own  special  service  in  the  offices  of  human  devotion,  and 
which  may  be  employed  in  the  humble  station  of  a  peculiar  minister 
to  man's  enjoyment,  as  a  sentient  being,  capable  of  ever  new  and 
ever  pure  gratification  from  the  concord  of  sweet  sounds,  is,  in  its 
influence  on  the  soul,  an  element  of  singular  moral  efficacy,  in  its 
power  to  inspire  with  reverence,  with  joy,  with  ecstatic  delight,  to 
calm  and  soothe  the  agitated  spirit,  to  touch  the  heart  with  sympathy 
for  sorrow,  or  to  mingle  the  humanizing  emotions  of  brotherhood  and 
companionship.  Rightly  cultivated  and  rightly  practiced,  it  affects 


1G4  MORAL    EDUCATION. 

with  a  pure  and  benign  influence' both  mind  and  heart;  and  happily, 
of  late  years,  has  it  taken  its  appropriate  place  in  schools,  among  the 
effective  means  of  moral  culture  not  less  than  a?sthetic. 

It  is  no  undue  enlargement  in  the  enumeration  of  the  moral 
capabilities  of  humanity,  to  include  within  its  sphere  the  whole  range 
of  those  arts  by  which  man's  conceptions  of  grandeur  and  beauty  are 
rendered  more  definite  in  themselves,  and  more  effective  in  their  in 
fluence  on  his  character. 

4.  SENSIBILITY,  a*  an  element  of  Moral  Life. — In  our  preceding 
observations,  we  have  adverted  to  health  of  body  and  mind,  and  to 
intellectual  and  aesthetic  culture,  as  determining,  in  degree,  man's 
moral  capabilities ;  since  a  normal  physical  and   intellectual  state  is 
the   natural  condition  of  normal   moral  action.     Proceeding  to  the 
further  consideration  of  the  moral  capacities  and   powers,  the  next 
element  in  our  enumeration  will  be  that  Sensibility  which,  by  Crea 
tive  ordination,  links  man,  by  the  sense  of  pleasure  and  pain,  to  the 
outward  world,  establishes  a  sentient  world  within  himself,  and  gives 
birth  to  the  vital  elements  of  love  and  aversion,  in  all  the  varied  forms 
of  appetite^  instinct,  desire,  feeling,  affection,  passion,  and  enwtion,  by 
which  man  is  attracted  or  repelled,  by  which  he  is  prompted  to  action 

^nd   expression,  and   which    consequently   determine   his    morality, 
(manner  of  action.) 

5.  THE  INSTINCTIVE  TENDENCIES,  as  Moral  Incitements. — (1.)  Ap 
petite^  the  natural  primal  craving  for  satisfaction,  which  implies  a  sense 
of  want  and  a  desire  of  gratification,  more  or  less  definite  according 
to  the  degree  of  intellectual  development  and  definite  consciousness, 
secures,  by  Divine  appointment,  the  perpetual   renovation   of  vigor, 
health,  and  life,  of  comfort  and  complacency.     In  the  natural  sym 
pathy  of  mind  and  body,  it  tends,  also,  to  generate  the  genial  dis 
positions  and  emotions,  and  to  diffuse  the  moral  element  of  happiness. 
The  intelligent  educator  recognizes  it  as  a  moral  power,  in  its  influence 
on  habit  and  character.     lie  well  knows  that,  in  its  pure  and  healthy 
conditions,  it  is  an  effective  promoter  of  serenity  and  tranquillity,  and 
cheerfulness,  and  favors  the  exercise  of  the  benevolent  affections;  that, 
when  neglected,  it  brings  on  an  irritative  reaction,  too  strong,  if  ex 
treme,  for  the  control  of  the  guardian  power  of  conscience;  and  that, 
when  glutted  by  excess,  it  imbrutes  the  whole  being,  and  leads  to 
those  degrading  habits  by  which  humanity  is  desecrated  or  ruined. 

(2.)  TJie  natural  Love  of  Activity. — One  of  the  earliest  manifesta 
tions  of  instinct  is  the  restless  desire  of  action,  which  is  seen  even  in 
the  involuntary  and  spontaneous  motions  of  the  muscular  frame  in 
infancy,  in  the  insatiable  thirst  for  exercise  in  childhood,  in  the  irre 
pressible  tendency  of  boyhood  and  youth  to  active  exertion,  in  the 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  1G5 

indefatigable  industry  of  adult  man  ;  and  not  less  in  -  the  instinctive 
craving  for  intellectual  action,  and  the  inextinguishable  curiosity  of 
the  young  mind,  in  the  eager  appetite  for  knowledge  on  all  accessible 
subjects,  and  the  earnest  desire  to  investigate  the  problems  of  our 
being  and  destination,  which  impel  the  rnaturer  mind,  at  every  stage 
of  life.  The  same  desire  of  activity  is  marked  in  the  child's  natural 
craving  for  sympathy  and  affection,  and  in  that  desire  for  esteem  and 
approbation  which  mark  the  dispositions  of  youth  and  manhood. 
All  these  impelling  powers,  as  they  tend  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  life 
to  the  individual,  arid  prompt  him  to  fill  it  by  corresponding  exertion, 
become  vital  elements  of  moral  life  and  character. 

(3.)  The  natural  Aversion  to  Pain. — This  instinctive  principle, 
which  makes  the  sentient  nature  a  provisional  guardian  of  the  safety 
and  welfare  of  infancy,  and,  in  degree,  of  humanity,  throughout  the 
course  of  life,  operates,  at  first,  with  more  obvious  reference  to  the 
protection  of  organic  life  and  health.  But,  as  the  mental  powers 
progressively  unfold  themselves,  and  conscious  sympathy  becomes  a 
source  of  pleasure  or  of  pain,  the  instinct  becomes  a  moral  sentiment, 
and  leads  its  subject  to  avoid  whatever  seems  fitted  to  excite  painful 
or  disagreeable  emotions  in  the  consciousness  of  his  fellow  beings.  It 
advances  as  self  consciousness  becomes  more  fully  developed,  to  that 
moral  rank  which  places  it  in  alliance  with  conscience,  and  warns  us 
to  shun  the  foreseen  pain  of  evil  doing,  and  the  reproaches  of  that 
faithful  monitor  which  Divine  wisdom  has  implanted  in  the  bosom  of 
man  to  represent  its  own  jurisdiction.  It  rises,  at  length,  to  that  fear 
of  God  which  deters  from  sin,  under  the  dread  of  His  sovereignty  or 
the  apprehension  of  his  displeasure,  and  which,  in  its  truest  and  most 
genial  form  of  filial  awe,  forbids  the  very  thought  of  offense.  The 
power  of  this  instinct  is  most  impressively  shown  when,  as  in  some 
deplorable  instances,  its  first  monitory  warnings  have  been  disregarded, 
and  its  terrific  reaction  drives  reason  from  the.  throne  of  intellect,  or 
haunts  a  death -bed  with  horrors. 

(4.)  The  desire  of  Enjoyment — which,  in  infancy  and  childhood, 
tends  to  seek  for  gratification  in  the  sphere  of  the  sentient  nature  in 
its  animal  relations,  rises  to  intellectual  and  moral  action,  with  pro 
gressive  development,  in  subsequent  stages  of  life  and  character,  till' it 
becomes  the  conscious  pursuit  of  even  the  highest  happiness  of 
humanity,  exalts  successively  the  aims  and  endeavors  of  m;m  to  his 
utmost  elevation  of  moral  action  and  character,  and  stamps  itself  as 
one  of  the  most  powerful  agents  in  the  advancement  of  his  being. 

(5.)  The  desire  of  Power. — No  attribute  of  his  nature  more  dis 
tinctly  marks  the  character  of  man  as  a  progressive  being,  than  that 
love  of  power  which  actuates  the  very  infant  in  his  attempts  to  stand, 


]  QQ  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

to  walk,  to  speak,  to  put  forth  efforts  of  muscular  force.  The  child, 
the  boy,  and  the  youth,  all  evince  the  activity  of  this  principle,  in  the 
conscious  ambition  for  progress  and  advancement  by  which  they  are 
impelled  to  earnest  endeavor  and  arduous  exertion,  physical,  intel 
lectual,  and  moral.  The  sense  of  power  is,  in  every  stage  of  human 
1  fe,  one  of  the  strongest  feelings  of  pleasure  of  which  man  is  conscious. 
In  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  it  crowns  his  endeavors  to  explore  the 
worlds  of  nature  and  of  thought,  to  achieve  the  miracles  of  perfect 
art,  to  attain  to  positions  of  affluence  or  of  rank,  to  enjoy,  in  what 
ever  form,  the  splendor  of  greatness.  It  prompts  man,  at  every  stage 
of  his  being,  from  childhood  onward,  to  aim  at  the  relative  manifesta 
tion  of  power  which  is  exhibited  in  superiority  over  others,  in  the 
ability  to  control,  direct,  and  sway  the  minds  and  actions  of  his  fellow- 
men.  This  instinct  of  his  nature  becomes  an  element  of  immense 
productive  force  for  evil,  when  perverted ;  although,  when  prompted 
by  benevolence,  and  restrained  by  justice  and  rectitude,  it  has  ocea- 
sioi^lly  made  men  the  benefactors  of  their  race. 

(C.)  The  desire  of  Estimation. — This  principle  which,  in  childhood, 
is  manifested  in  the  desire  of  love  and  approbation,  becomes,  in  the 
adult,  a  love  of  esteem  and  respect,  and,  so  far,  is  unquestionably  a 
worthy  motive  power,  and  one  which,  subordinated  to  conscientious 
integrity  and  honor,  elevates  the  character  and  prompts  to  benevolent 
action.  When  it  degenerates  to  mere  love  of  fame  and  applause,  or 
sinks  to  the  miserable  desire  for  distinction  or  mere  notoriety,  its 
effects  are,  of  course,  as  degrading  as  in  its  purer  forms,  it  is  ennobling. 
In  any  form,  it  is  an  element  of  peculiar  power  in  man's  moral 
constitution. 

(7.)  The  desire  of  Society. — Thia  principle  man  partakes  with  the 
gregarious  races  of  animal  life.  It  manifests  itself  in  the  clinging 
desire  for  sympathy  and  association,  characteristic  alike  of  infancy, 
childhood,  and  youth.  It  becomes,  in  manhood,  the  foundation  of 
social  and  civil  life,  widens  the  sphere  of  the  individual,  and  amplifies 
his  being  by  the  sympathy,  the  intelligence,  the  material  and  moral 
aid  of  a  whole  community  of  his  fellow  men.  As  an  element  of 
human  progress  and  power,  it  ranks  among  the  strongest  and  the 
most  ample  of  man's  moral  resources. 

(8.)  The  desire  of  Freedom. — In  tjje  stages  of  infancy  and  child 
hood,  and  of  immature  life  generally,  the  instinctive  desire  to  throw 
off  restraint,  and  to  enjoy  liberty  of  action,  is  the  natural  expression 
of  that  native  desire  of  development  which  impels  the  progressive 
human  being  in  every  direction  that  promises  the  pleasure  of  con- 
Bcious  effort  and  power.  Partaking,  however,  of  the  partial  blindness 
attributable  to  all  forms  of  mere  instinct,  it  needs  the  direction  and 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE   MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  itf 

guidance  of  faculties  higher  than  itself,  to  constitute  it  a  uniformly 
safe  element  in  activity.  But  as  it  is  capable  of  employment  in  the 
service  of  man's  best  rights  and  interests,  and,  in  that  capacity,  has 
achieved  some  of  his  noblest  triumphs  for  intelligence,  virtue,  and 
happiness,  it  takes  justly  a  high  rank  among  his  moral  capabilities, 
as  an»iridispensable  condition  of  development  and  progress. 

6.  THE  PRIMARY  EMOTIONS,  as  Moral  Powers. — Sensibility,  the 
susceptibility  of  feeling,  the  great  source  of  moral  life,  presents  its 
numerous  family  of  emotions  as  constituent  members  of  the  group  of 
moral  powers  and  faculties  by  which  man  is  rendered  capable  of 
meliorating  culture  and  spiritual  growth.  Emotion,  as  the  manifesta 
tion  or  expression  of  feeling  and  affection,  is  not  merely  the  natural 
language  of  the  heart,  rendered  visible  or  audible,  but,  in  virtue  of 
the  law  of  sympathy  and  mutual  incitement,  existing  in  the  various 
faculties  of  the  soul,  it  is  itself  a  vital  moral  element  reacting  with  a 
powerful  augmenting  force  on  the  source  whence  it  springs.  As  an 
inner  movement  of  the  soul  rendered  legible,  it  has,  in  many  cases, 
become,  by  universal  consent  and  usage,  a  synonym  for  the  interior 
condition  whence  it  originates,  whether  in  the  quiet  rnoods  of  serenity 
or  the  turbulence  of  passion. 

(1.)  Joy. — One  of  the  earliest  feelings  manifested  by  look  and  ac 
tion,  in  the  infant  stage  of  life,  is  that  joyous  emotion  which  con 
stitutes,  so  largely,  the  happiness  of  animal  existence,  in  all  its  earlier 
conditions.  The  genial  natufe  of  this  emotion  is  indicated  in  the  in 
tense  gratification  which  it  evidently  yields  to  its  immediate  subject, 
and  which,  by  the  law  of  sympathy,  it  diffuses  to  all  sentient  natures 
within  its  sphere.  From  its  lowest  forms  of  serene  complacency,  to  its 
more  positively  marked  degrees  of  animation  and  cheerfulness,  its 
higher  expressions  of  delight,  of  gladness,  and  hilarity,  or  its  more 
sedate  and  lasting  satisfactions,  in  the  mature  sense  of  happinets* 
which  attends  true  enjoyment,  its  influence  on  life  and  health,  on  con 
scious  feeling,  on  "temper  and  disposition,  on  the  whole  intellectual 
and  moral  nature,  is,  in  the  highest  degree,  salutary  ;  while  undue 
devotion  to  its  influence  precludes  the  possibility  of  benefit  from  those 
deeper  and  more  lasting  pleasures  which  flow  from  serious  thought 
and  earnest  purposes.  Mirth,  habitually  indulged,  leads  to  habitual 
levity  and  frivolity,  and  foregoes  the  distinctive  dignity  of  man.  The 
healthy  and  genial  inspiration  of  joy,  however,  even  intelligent  educa 
tors  are  sometimes  prone  to  forget,  is,  in  all  the  relations  of  moral 
condition  and  moral  cultivation,  one  of  the  strongest  influences  to 
which  the  young  mind,  by  the  law  of  its  constitution,  is  peculiarly 
subjected  as  a  vital  element — the  oxygen,  of  its  spiritual  atmosphere. 

(2.)   Sorrow,  grief,  regret,  repentence,    remorse. — These    emotions, 


168  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

diametrically  opposed,  in  all  their  effect-",  to  the  genial  influence  of 
the  preceding,  are  to  be  eschewed  as  permanent  educational  elements 
in  any  normal  plan  of  early  training;  yet  they  have  their  salutary 
office  in  abnormal  instances,  in  softening  obdurate  hearts,  and  sub 
duing  obstinate  wills,  or  in  awakening  torpid  and  dormant  intellects. 
Their  office,  in  the  business  of  education,  is  that  of  exceptional  reme 
dies  for  exceptional  evils :  they  are  punitive  and  reformatory  in  their 
character,  rather  than  genial  and  preventive.  They  belong  not  to  the 
primary  stage  of  nurture,  but  rather  to  the  secondary  one  of  discipline. 
Still  they  are  sometimes  of  the  greatest  value,  when  they  spring  from 
ingenuous  feelings  of  regret  for  conscious  error,  or  self-reprehension 
for  conscious  faults.  It  was  once  most  happily  said,  "The  tear  of 
contrition  serves  to  wash  the  mote  of  sin  out  of  the  eye."  The  hour 
of  grief  is  that  which  enhances  the  value  of  consolation.  The 
blameless  sadness  of  the  young  heart  calls  for  the  gentle  soothing  of 
the  voice  of  affection.  Sorrow  for  deplorable  losses  blesses  the  voice 
which  can  say,  in  genuine  sympathy  and  cheering  kindness,  u  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled  !"  The  moment  of  "  the  heaviness  of  the 
countenance"  is  sometimes  that  in  which  "  the  heart  is  made  better," 
by  detaching  it  from  the  burden  of  conscious  evil,  and  preparing  the 
will  for  the  better  course  of  a  new  life.  In  such  circumstances,  the 
judicious  aid  of  the  attentive  educator  may  assist  in  the  inauguration 
of  a  new  moral  era  in  the  personal  history  of  the  pupil.  Even  the 
rougher  and  severer  discipline  of  repentance  and  remorse  becomes,  to 
the  hardened  adult,  a  minister  of  mercy,  when  it  wrenches  the  sinner 
from  the  thraldom  of  evil  habit,  and  sets  him  free  from  the  "bond- 
age  of  iniquity." 

The  moral  power  of  this  whole  class  of  emotions — from  the 
unaccountable  cloud  of  depression  which  sometimes  steals  over  the 
sunshine  of  the  young  heart,  to  the  deepest  plunge  into  the  darkness 
of  remorse — is  peculiarly  marked  for  its  efficacy  in  the  renovation  of 
feeling,  and  even  of  disposition  and  character.  Jn  the.  sphere  of  the 
family  and  the  school,  it  sometimes  marks  the  record  of  the  day's  history 
with  the  beginning  of  a  salutary  reformation  of  temper  and  deport 
ment.  Hut,  in  the  imperfections  of  human  management,  it  some 
times  is  permitted  to  mark  the  commencement  of  a  reactive  sense  of 
wrong,  when  the  feeling  is  unjustly  caused  by  arbitrary  or  erring 
authority.  It  then  becomes  a  power  for  lasting  evil. 

(3.)  Timidity,  fear,  terror. — Like  the  natural  aversion  to  pain, 
these  instinctive  emotions,  which  are  so  easily  excited  in  childhood, 
bespeak  the  guardian  care  of  the  Creator,  in  his  gracious  provision 
against  danger,  and  consequent  destruction  to  the  organic  frame,  or 
to  the  mental  constitution.  They  are  the  swift  preventives  of  evil, 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  jgg 

the  safeguards  of  humanity  in  peril.  But  the  vividness  of  child 
hood's  emotions  needs  the  aid  of  the  guardian  auspices  of  education 
to  prevent  a  salutary  instinct  from  degenerating  into  unreasoning 
excess,  and  to  protect  the  mental  and  moral  nature  from  the  para 
lyzing  effect,  which,  in  unhappy  instances,  has  extended  to  the  over 
throw  of  reason  itself.  The  timidity  of  childhood  may,  if  not 
watched  over,  become  habitual  self-distrust,  embarrassment,  confusion 
of  thought,  or  even  moral  cowardice.  Wisely  guarded,  it  may  be 
converted  into  a  protection  from  rashness,  presumption,  and  fool- 
hardiness.  Fear  may  be  sometimes  needed  as  a  restraining  influence 
on  forwardness  and  impudence,  or  as  a  check  upon  daring  hardihood, 
in  resistance  to  authority.  But  its  influence  is  unfriendly  to  the 
healthy  development  of  disposition  and  character.  It  never  rises  to 
the  dignity  of  an  aid  to  the  development  of  principle.  It  may  aid  in 
producing  a  vivid  apprehension  of  coercive  and  compulsory  measures, 
and  so  lead  to  obviate  their  necessity.  But  its  low  rank  among 
instincts,  its  semi-brutal  character,  at  best,  place  it  among  the  motives 
which  a  generous  educator  would  ever  despise.  If  called  in,  for  a 
moment,  to  quell  resistance  to  authority,  it  yet  can  never  attain  to 
the  dignity  of  a  genuine  moral  influence.  Expediency  may  some 
times  sanction  the  appeal  to  its  effect,  as  a  matter  of  necessity.  But, 
if  admitted  at  all  into  the  circle  of  moral  relations,  it  can  not  be 
ranked  higher  than  among  the  abnormal.  As  for  its  extreme  form, 
terror — humanity,  at  the  present  day,  forbids  any  resort  to  it,  as  a 
moral  expedient.  The  peril  of  insanity  lies  too  close  at  hand  to 
permit  any  human  being  to  adopt  it,  even  as  a  means  of  deterring 
from  evil.  Its  only  salutary  use  is  its  instinctive  office  to  prompt  the 
instant  flight  from  peril  to  life  itself.  So,  and  so  only,  does  it  prove 
a  benefit. 

(4.)  Indignation  as  a  moral  sentiment. — The  intelligent  moral 
instructor  will,  of  course,  carefully  guard  his  pupils  from  confound 
ing  this  principle  with  the  mere  animal  emotion  or  passion  of  anger. 
Anger  is  the  mere  personal  reaction  of  maddened  feeling  and  blinded 
reason,  which  man  is  capable  of  in  common  with  the  brutes,  and 
which  vents  itself  in  violence  on  the  agent  of  injury.  Indigna 
tion  is  that  impersonal  sentiment  which  regards  not  the  agent  but 
the  act,  which  makes  the  young  heart  glow  at  the  sense  of  wrong, 
when  the  teacher  is  relating  an  instance  of  oppression  or  cruelty, 
which  occurred,  perhaps,  ages  ago,  and  in  some  distant  land.  This 
species  of  resentment  is  a  purely  mental  thing,  a  salutary  and  enno 
bling  emotion  of  reactive  sympathy,  which  belongs  to  man  as  a 
being  consciously  endowed  with  free  agency,  and  equally  abhorring  a 
condition  of  unjust  subjection,  and  the  oppression  which  causes  it — 


170  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

as  a  being  instinctively  impelled  to  oppose  and  overthrow  every 
palpable  form  of  evil  which  besets  the  condition  of  humanity.  In 
dignation  has  inspired  many  of  those  peaceful  revolutions  which 
have  renovated  the  social  and  moral  condition  of  communities, 
more  frequently  than  it  has  originated  those  bloody  revolutions 
which  have  sometimes  been  the  birth-throes  of  national  life  and 
liberty. 

(5.)  Wonder. — Among  the  first  indications  of  mental  life,  in 
childhood,  is  the  emotion  of  wonder,  which,  at  that  stage  of  human 
progress,  is  so  often  called  forth  by  the  novelties  of  observation  and 
experience.  The  freshness  of  feeling  which  it  indicates,  and  the 
manifest  delight  attending  it,  show  plainly  its  power  as  an  element 
of  mental  life  and  moral  activity.  This  emotion,  judiciously  evoked 
and  skillfully  cherished  by  the  watchful  educator,  becomes  not  only  a 
genial  and  a  powerful  incentive  to  intellectual  exertion,  but  the  trib 
ute  of  the  young  heart  on  the  altar  of  the  yet  "  unknown  God," 
who  is  waiting  to  be,  in  due  season,  revealed  to  intelligent  faith.  The 
wonder  which  the  novelty  of  all  created  things  raises  in  the  dawning 
consciousness  of  childhood,  is  the  preparatory  stage  of  the  intelli 
gence  and  reverence  which  are  afterward  to  blend  in  the  soul,  as  it 
rises  to  the  recognition  of  the  Author  of  life  and  the  Giver  of  its  law 
of  duty. 

(6.)  Awe. — This  emotion  transcends  that  of  mere  wonder,  and 
thrills  the  soul  with  a  profounder  sense  of  power,  whether  exhibited 
in  the  tremendous  forces  of  nature,  in  its  astounding  aspects  of 
elemental  commotion,  as  in  the  heaving  fire  of  the  volcano,  the 
dashing  billows  of  ocean,  the  rush  of  the  cataract,  the  blinding  flash 
of  the  lightning,  the  roar  of  the  thunder,  or  the  fury  of  the  tornado, 
or  in  the  calmer  majesty  of  mountain  forms,  the  overwhelming  vast- 
ness  of  impenetrable  forests,  or  the  immeasurable  depths  of  space. 
As  a  moral  inspiration,  it  aids  the  feeble  faculties  of  man  in  his 
attempts  to  dwell  upon  the  conception  of  almighty  power  and  eter 
nal  duration;  and  while  he  must  ever  sink  consciously  baffled  in  all 
his  attempts  to  comprehend  Him  "  whose  greatness  is  unsearchable, 
and  whose  ways  are  past  finding  out,"  yet  he  never  feels  more  vividly 
the  greatness  of  his  own  nature,  limited  though  it  is,  than  when 
losing  his  human  littleness  in  the  contemplation  of  the  great  and 
marvellous  works  which  bespeak  the  majesty  of  Him  who  is  "  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever." 

This  overwhelming  and  yet  ennobling  emotion,  education  has  it 
for  one  of  its  special  offices  to  deepen  and  expand  by  all  the  aids 
which  nature  and  science  furnish  to  the  inquiring  mind  of  man.  Its 
influence  is  doubly  salutary,  as  it  prostrates  the  human  being  in 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  J7l 

conscious  insignificence   before  his  Creator,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
exalts  Him  who  is  the  "  Majesty  of  heaven  and  earth." 

(7.)  Hope. — As  an  intelligent  inspiration,  of  intellect,  heart,  and 
will,  in  activity  connected  with  the  sense  of  duty,  hope,  the  expecta 
tion  of  success,  becomes  an  element  of  high  moral  value  and  power. 

It  is  congenial  with  the  conscious  happiness  of  being  which  natu 
rally  belongs  to  the  joyous  associations  of  early  childhood,  and, 
indeed,  of  young  life  in  all  its  various  stages.  It  inspires  and  sus 
tains  the  aspirations  of  boyhood  and  youth,  and  invigorates  the 
exertions  of  manhood.  It  is  a  silent  tribute  from  the  heart  of  man 
to  Divine  benignity ;  and  when  elevated  and  hallowed  by  faith,  it 
rejoices  in  the  anticipation  of  a  future  life  of  perfect  felicity.  Its 
rank,  and  its  efficacy  as  a  moral  influence,  constitute  it  one  of  the 
highest  powers  by  which  man's  moral  nature  is  actuated. 

7.  THE  BENIGNANT  AFFECTIONS,  as  elements  of  moral  life  and 
power. — (1.)  Love. — By  the  great  pervading  attribute  of  sensibility, 
inherent  in  his  constitution,  man  learns  to  feel  his  condition  before  he 
knows  it,  and  to  sympathize  with  his  fellow-beings  before  he  is  capa 
ble  of  understanding  them.  The  law  of  Sympathy,  written  on  his 
whole  nature,  as  a  primary  element  of  his  being,  which  ultimately 
developed  into  every  form  of  social  and  benevolent  feeling,  brings 
him,  unconsciously,  at  first,  under  the  dominion  of  the  paramount 
law  of  Love,  which  attracts  him  toward  his  fellow-beings  by  a  genial 
and  kindly  influence  which  he  delights  to  feel,  and  which,  as  his  con 
scious  intelligence  gradually  unfolds  itself,  he  learns  to  understand  as 
mutual  and  reciprocal.  This  mysterious  power  ties  the  heart  of  the 
infant  to  that  of  the  mother,  and  that  of  the  mother  to  the  infant 
with  an  affection  stronger  than  life.  In  the  little  community  of  home, 
it  links  the  .souls  of  brothers  and  sisters  in  fraternal  union  of  affection. 
It  is  the  sacred  law  of  parental  and  filial  duty,  and  moves  the  whole 
moral  machinery  of  human  life  in  its  hallowed  and  blessed  sphere  of 
privacy. 

There  virtue  has  its  purest  forms  and  dearest  aspects,  its  genuine, 
spontaneous  amenities  ;  and  though  unknown  beyond  its  own  quiet 
sphere,  has  its  own  unseen  record  of  generous  self-sacrifice,  and  of 
fortitude  more  than  heroic.  Among  the  noblest  motive  powers  of 
moral  action,  the  affections  of  home  are  those  to  which  the  enlightened 
educator  will  ever  assign  the  highest  place,  as  regards  the  capabilities 
of  the  human  heart  for  living  development. 

(2.)  Gratitude. — This  peculiar  benignant  reaction  of  love,  in  view 
of  favor  or  kindness  experienced,  mingles  largely  with  the  exercise  of 
filial  and  fraternal  affection,  and  enters  into  every  emotion  called  forth 
by  the  consciousness  of  benefit  conferred,  in  whatever  degree — from 


172  MORAL   EDUCATION. 

the  ordinary  acts  of  human  kindness  and  courtesy,  to  those  greater 
expressions  of  benevolence,  which  bestow  safety  or  comfort  and  hap 
piness,  in  valuable  and  lasting  forms  of  beneficent  action.  This  gen 
erous  emotion  is  not  always  accompanied  with  the  satisfaction  of  being 
able  to  remunerate  a  benefactor  by  any  adequate  return.  The  service 
or  the  favor  which  calls  it  forth,  is  sometimes  greater  than  language 
or  action,  or  any  form  of  external  expression,  can  equal.  It  may  be 
sometimes  so  great  as  to  prompt  the  devotion  of  a  whole  life  to  the 
friend  or  benefactor  toward  whom  it  is  directed.  Such  is  true  filial 
attachment.  Such  is  man's  position  toward  his  Creator. 

The  promptings  of  this  generous  emotion  lead,  sometimes,  to  the 
noblest  manifestations  of  true  sensibility  and  self-renouncing  devotion. 
Some  of  the  brightest  passages  on  the  page  of  history  are  those  which 
record  the  heroic  actions  to  which  this  feeling  has  given  birth. 

In  the  relations  of  education,  its  influence  on  the  ingenuous  mind 
and  heart  of  youth,  forms  one  of  the  most  sacred  attachments  of 
human  life.  A  grateful  feeling  of  returning  love  for  the  guardian 
mental  care  which,  in  our  early  years,  watched  over,  and  served  to 
form  and  mould  within  us,  the  Weal  image  of  excellence  at  which  we 
were  taught  to  aspire,  the  filial  reverence  which  the  heart,  in  such  cir 
cumstances,  so  gladly  pays  as  a  tribute  to  wisdom  and  worth,  insure  the 
inspirntfon  of  the  noblest  aims  in  all  subsequent  life,  to  the  heart  which 
is  conscious  of  them. 

8.  THE  GENEROUS  AFFECTIONS,  as  Moral  Powers. — (1.)  friend 
ship. — The  cordialities  of  disinterested  friendship,  and  the  mutual 
good  offices  of  human  kindness  and  reciprocal  obligation  are  but  ex 
pansions  of  fraternal  feeling  from  the  primary  sphere  of  home ;  and 
their  efficacy  in  promoting  human  well-being,  on  a  broad  scale,  render 
them  powerful  instruments  of  good,  as  well  as  rich  elements  of  moral 
life  in  the  heart. 

(2.)  Patriotism. — On  a  yet  wider  field,  patriotic  attachment  and 
principle,  as  they  cherish  the  generous  spirit  of  self-devotion,  give 
ample  scope  for  the  cultivation  of  the  virtues  which  adorn  and  dignify 
human  life.  The  noblest  pages  of  history  are  those  which  exhibit  the 
magnanimity  of  genuine  patriotism.  As  a  feeling  of  the  heart,  or  a 
principle  of  duty,  this  sentiment  possesses  peculiar  power  in  inspiring 
man  to  noble  deeds;  and  as  a  spring  of  development  to  personal 
character,  it  must  ever  rank  high  among  the  moral  capabilities  of 
roan. 

(3.)  Philanthropy.*- The  expansive  feeling  which  embraces  the 
whole  human  family  in  the  wide  open  arms  of  brotherhood,  is  a  vir 
tue  yet  more  disinterested,  and  more  true  to  God  and  man,  than  even 
the  truest  and  the  warmest  patriotism.  It  is  eminently  the  Christian's 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  173 

virtue,  so  far  as  he  is  true  to  the  teachings  and  example  of  Him  who 
came  to  proclaim  "good  will  to  men,"  and  charged  his  followers  with 
a  message  of  love  to  "  the  whole  world."  The  history  of  genuine 
Christianity  is  chiefly  the  record  of  those  who  went  forth  on  this 
errand,  "  with  their  life  in  their  hand,"  and  who  were  ever  cheerfully 
ready  to  deposit  it  in  pledge  of  their  devotion  to  the  well-being  of 
"  Barbarian,  Scythian,  bond,  or  free." 

Among  the  powers  which  characterize  man  as  a  moral  being  capa 
ble  of  culture,  and  of  advancement  in  the  scale  of  excellence,  no  trait 
of  disposition  gives  larger  promise  than  this;  and  on  none  does 
humanizing  culture  produce  larger  effects. 

(4.)  Humanity  toward  Animal  Nature. — As  the  offspring  of  Divine 
love,  the  human  spirit,  though  its  lustre  has  been  dimmed  by  the 
breath  of  sin,  yet  retains  something  of  the  characteristic  benignity  of 
its  Source ;  and  the  range  of  its  benevolent  sympathy  is  not  limited 
to  the  circle  of  its  fellow  beings,  but  flows  forth,  if  not  unnaturally 
diverted  from  its  channel,  to  the  wider  sphere  of  universal  being.  In 
its  relation  even  to  the  humbler  races  of  the  creation,  which  have 
been  subjected  to  its  dominion,  by  the  appointed  gradations  in  the 
scale  of  life,  it  manifests  itself  capable  of  a  beneficence  for  which  the 
designation  of  "  humanity"  has  been  suggestively  chosen. 

The  universal  law  of  Love,  if  obeyed,  expands  and  elevates  the 
soul  of  man  to  that  moral  comprehensiveness  of  being  which  ranks 
him  "  but  little  lower  than  the  angels ;"  and  while  he  is  thus  permitted 
to  see  "all  earthly  things  put  under  his  feet,"  his  crown  of  royalty  is 
indeed  one  of  "glory  and  honor,"  because  it  invests  him  with  the 
conscious  responsibility  of  an  intelligent  and  moral  sovereign.  This 
true  majesty  of  man  is  the  source  at  once  of  his  just  self-respect,  and 
of  some  of  his  noblest  regal  attributes  and  virtues,  to  cherish  and 
confirm  which  is  among  the  special  offces  of  appropriate  human  cul 
ture. 

9.  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE,  as  a  Moral  Power. — (1.)  Reverence. — 
The  feeling  of  which  the  young  mind  is  conscious,  as  one  of  the  dawn 
ing  intimations  of  the  development  of  its  own  reflective  powers,  when 
contemplating  the  dignity,  the  authority,  the  wisdom,  and  the  benignity 
of  the  parental  character  on  which  it  consciously  depends  for  being 
and  happiness — is  although  not  yet  fully  or  distinctly  developed  to  its 
own  consciousness,  one  of  the  profoundest  emotions  of  which  it  is 
susceptible ;  and  to  the  unperverted  heart  it  is  one  of  the  strongest 
cords  of  sacred  obligation  by  which  it  is  bound  to  all  filial  duty. 

The  emotion  thus  experienced  is  naturally  transferred,  by  the 
mind's  law  of  association  to  all  forms  of  venerable  human  worth  and 
dignity.  It  is  called  forth  by  the  wisdom  of  age,  by  nobility  of  charac- 


174  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

•ter  in  exalted  station,  and,  in  degree,  by  all  authority  justly  exercised. 
It  marks  alike,  in  such  circumstances,  the  deportment  of  ingenuous 
youth  and  of  true  manliness.  Its  indications  in  the  intercourse  of 
life  are  the  assurance  of  that  susceptibility  by  which  judicious  cultiva 
tion,  and  the  inspiration  of  a  genuine  faith,  are  enabled  to  lift  the 
human  soul  in  reverence  to  the  Father  of  spirits,  and  to  create  a 
sacred  regard  for  all  that  Divine  truth  reveals  as  duty.  Its  value  as 
an  element  in  moral  cultivation,  is  beyond  expression,  great,  as  re 
gards  its  influence,  whether  in  securing  the  respect  and  obedience  due 
to  parents  and  teachers,  to  seniority  in  years,  and  to  eminence  in  at 
tainments,  or  in  conferring  on  education  itself,  its  true  character  n  a 
sacred  relation  in  the  business  and  duties  of  life,  and  as  a  connecting 
link  in  the  chain  which  gives  unity  to  man's  bein"  in  its  extension  to 
a  higher  sphere  of  mental  and  spiritual  existence." 

(2.)  Faith. — Another  element  of  the  highest  power  in  moral 
relations  is  the  Faith  which  believes  and  trusts,  and  thus  unites  man 
to  his  fellow  man,  and  man  to  the  Author  of  his  being.  A  great 
writer  has  denominated  this  principle  as  that  "  which  holds  the  mor 
al  elements  of  the  world  together."  Without  it,  man  is  an  isolated, 
helpless,  hopeless  outcast,  wandering  on  the  shores  of  being  without 
aim  and  without  direction,  ready  to  be  "swallowed  up  and  lost,"  at 
the  end  of  his  brief  career  of  earthly  life. 

Faith  is  the  source  and  spring  of  all  moral  life,  and,  as  a  capability 
in  the  relations  of  culture,  its  productive  power  is  comparatively 
inexhaustible,  or  limited  only  by  the  measure  of  endeavor.  It  lifts 
man  above  himself,  and  supplies  him  with  a  power  beyond  his  own. 
It  gives  the  parent  and  the  teacher  an  influence  nearly  unbounded. 
In  its  highest  form,  it  solves,  with  light  from  above,  the  great  Chris 
tian  paradox,  "  When  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong." 

(3.)  Conscience. — The  primordial  moral  element  which  holds 
sway  over  all  man's  powers  and  faculties,  is  Conscience.  This  great 
regulator  of  the  springs  of  action  no  competent  educator  can  ever 
permit  himself  to'  regard  in  the  merely  popular  light  of  a  reporter 
and  penal  officer,  following  the  acts  of  which  it  takes  cognizance 
only  after  they  have  been  committed,  or  irretrievably  determined. 
As  the  sense  of  duty,  it  presides  over  the  whole  mental  being.  As 
an  intelligent  agent,  it  partake!  in  the  work  of  consciousness  and 
reason.  It  knows  and  judges.  It  remembers,  indeed,  with  fearful 
exactness,  the  deeds  of  the  past.  But  it  has  also  the  eyes  of  intui 
tion  and  of  inference  for  the  present,  and  the  power  of  prospection, 
prediction,  and  suggestion  for  the  future.  In  feeling — unless  blunted 
or  extinguished — it  is  sensitive,  to  the  utmost  degree  of  acuteness ; 
and  it  pierces  to  the  very  "joints  and  marrow"  of  the  moral  organ- 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  175 

ism.  Its  cautery  is  terrible  in  its  unsparing  intensity.  By  Creative 
ordination  it  is  paramount  to  the  will.  It  prompts,  and  threatens, 
;iud  remonstrates,  and  commands,  and  forbids,  and  impels  or  deters, 
with  absolute  authority; — irresponsible  to  any  higher  power  within 
the  whole  domain  of  humanity,  and  acknowledging  none  without, 
but  the  one  supreme  authority  of  God  and  duty. 

As  an  intelligent  sentiment,  and  determining  principle,  it  sums  up 
man's  moral  capacities  and  powers  in  their  whole  extent  of  life  and 
action.  It  constitutes  him  what  he  is  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  in 
his  own  consciousness — a  responsible  moral  agent,  whose  motto,  writ 
ten  on  his  inmost  being,  is  "  Be  perfect? 

Under  the  prompting  influence  of  conscience,  as  the  law  of  duty, 
appointed  by  the  supreme  lawgiver,  a  devout  regard  to  His  authority, 
and  a  grateful  sense  of  His  benignant  care,  the  young  mind,  enlight 
ened  by  the  teachings  of  "the  wisdom  which  cometh  from  above,"  is 
betimes  elevated  to  that  piety  toward  the  Father  of  all,  which  raises 
the  personal  worth  and  virtues  of  the  human  being,  in  his  aspira 
tions,  to  the  height  of  sanctity,  carries  up  all  questions  of  moral 
action  to  the  highest  of  all  tribunals,  and  breathes  into  all  his  en 
deavors  of  duty  the  inspiring  breath  of  a  spiritual  life  and  a  divine 
power.  Most  -justly  did  the  fathers  of  New  England  require  of  the 
teacher  of  youth  that  he  should  regard  himself  as  specially  set 
apart  for  the  "nurturing"  of  childhood  in  "piety,"  as  the  security 
for  all  those  virtues  which  insure  the  safety  of  a  community  and  are 
the  ad'ornment  of  humanity. 

10.  THE  WILL,  as  a  Moral  Power. — Man's  ability  to  determine 
the  moral  course  of  his  actions,  to  choose  the  right  and  avoid  the 
wrong,  can  never  be  made  clearer  to  himself  by  the  light  of  "science 
falsely  so  called/'  than  it  is  in  his  own  inmost  convictions.  It  never 
is  obscured  to  his  consciousness  till,  wandering  from  his  limited 
sphere  of  possible  conception,  he  bedims  it  by  some  cloud  of  meta 
physical  speculation,  and  perplexing  casuistry — "darkening  counsel" 
by  "  skeptical  doubts"  and  "  words  without  knowledge."  Conscience, 
the  only  competent  court,  adjudges  him  free,  innocent  or  guilty,  com 
mendable  or  culpable,  in  every  act  within  the  limits  of  his  power, 
yet — for  that  very  reason,  not  independent  of  the  authority  which 
pronounces  sentence  on  his  actions,  and  which  involves  the  existence 
of  an  authority  higher  than  itself,  to  which  he  is  strictly  responsible, 
here  and  hereafter,  though  at  liberty  now  to  follow  the  bent  of  his 
individual  will.  To  the  doings  of  this  determining  and  executive 
power,  which  directs  and  moves  the  arm,  whether  it  is  stretched  forth 
to  succor  or  to  kill,  attaches,  then,  a  moral  character  of  fearful  power ; 
and  to  influence  it  for  good,  and  not  for  evil,  to  guide  it  in  the  path 


176  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

of  rectitude  and   benevolence,  is  the  appropriate  work  of  education, 
as  the  guardian  of  human  welfare. 

11.  THE   PRACTICAL  VIRTUES,  as  Moral   Powers. — High   among 
these  attributes  stands  Rectitude — that  power  of  self-adjustment  by 
which  man  corresponds  to  the  dictates  of  conscience,  as  the  sense  of 
right,  which  keeps  him  true  to  his  position  in  the  moral   universe — 
true  in  thought,  word,  and  deed,  to  the  posture  in  which  his  Creator 
placed  him  when  lie  "  made  man  upright."     This  principle  confers 
on  the  human  being  that  noble   power  of  self-poise,  which   bespeaks 
his  dignity,  as  a  free   agent,  endowed  with    the  ability,  to   maintain 
his   moral  identity  and  stability,  amid  all  the  fluctuations  of  circum 
stance,  or  the  plausible  solicitations  of  evil.     It  tends  to  render  him 
sacredly  regardful  of  truth  in  all  his  communications  with  his  fellow- 
beings,  and  of  equity  and  justice  in  all  his  transactions.     It  stamps 
his  character  with  integrity  and  honor,  in   every  station  of  power — 
with    fidelity,  honesty,  and  punctuality  in  the  discharge  of  every 
obligation  of  duty.     Truthfulness,  is,  in   a  word,  the  one   sure   and 
firm   foundation  of  every  personal  virtue,  and   the  only  ground  of 
reliance  between  man  and  man.     Without    the    security  which    it 
affords,  the  whole  fabric  of  human   society  would   be  but  a  hollow 
structure  of  falsehood  and  hypocrisy,  and  life  but  a  degrading  scene 
of  deceit,  imposition,  and  intrigue,  issuing  in    universal  corruption 
and  misery. 

A  sacred  regard  to  truth,  in  all  its  relations  of  communication, 
whether  in  expression  or  action,  while  it  is  an  element  so  indispensa 
ble  to  the  existence  of  human  virtue,  in  any  form,  is  one  which 
more  than  most  others,  is  a  growth  of  culture  in  the  soul,  and  pecu 
liarly  needs  the  genial  guardianship  of  watchful  care,  mature  wis 
dom,  and  consummate  skill,  on  the  part  of  the  cultivator.  The 
fertile  imagination  and  artistic  fancy  of  childhood,  are  prone  to 
create  a  world  of  unreality  around  the  unconscious  spirit,  in  its  im 
maturity  of  knowledge  and  experience;  and  a  guiding  mind  is  ever 
needed  to  lead  it  onward  to  a  distinct  perception  of  the  sacred  beau 
ty  which  invests  the  simplicity  and  severity  of  truth,  and  which 
renders  any  conscious  violation  of  it  a  desecration.  The  force  of 
truthfulness,  as  a  moral  principle,  when  so  directed  and  matured,  is 
seen  in  that  loyal  and  devoted  adherence  to  its  dictates,  which  is 
exhibited  in  the  constancy  and  genuine  heroism  of  the  martvr.  In 
his  estimation,  it  is  held  dearer  than  life,  no  intensity  of  pain  or 
suffering  lias  the  power  to  wrest  it  from  him. 

12.  THE  HUMANE  AND  GKNTLE  VIRTUES,  an  Moral  Powers. — Un 
der  this  designation  may  be  properly  included  those  traits  of  disposi 
tion  and  character  which  soften  the  heart  of  man  to  his  fellow  man — 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  1^7 

the  sympathy  which  is  not  a  mere  passive  condition  of  feeling  or  or 
ganic  susceptibility,  but  a  living,  active  participation  in  the  emotions 
evinced  by  our  fellow  creatures;  leading  us  to  rejoice  in  the  happiness 
of  others,  to  compassionate  them  in  conditions  of  want  and  distress, 
to  commiserate  sorrow  and  suffering,  in  every  form — ignorance,  error, 
degradation,  vice,  and  every  pressure  of  evil  which  afflicts  or  depresses 
humanity  ; — to  cherish  the  catholic  spirit  of  universal  charity,  toler 
ance  for  the  sentiments  which  differ  from  our  own,  uniform  tenderness 
toward  woman  and  childhood,  calmness  under  irritating  treatment, 
meekness  under  a  sense  of  wrong,  quietness  and  mildness  with  the 
violent,  patience  and  forbearance-  with  waywardness  and  opposition 
and  injury,  pity  for  the  erring,  mercy  for  the  evil-doer.  All  these  god 
like  traits  of  disposition  are  the  features  which  characterize  the  pecu 
liar  spirit  of  true  Christian  culture ;  none  of  them  the  mere  fortuitous 
products  of  a  happy  constitution  of  body  or  of  mind,  but  all  earned 
by  ceaseless  watchfulness,  and  diligent  endeavor,  and.  sometimes,  by 
arduous  struggles,  and  none  of  them  perfected  without  aid  from  on 
high. 

13.  PERSONAL  QUALITIES,  in  their  Moral  Influence:  The  Self-as 
serting  and  Self-sustaining  Virtues  of  the  Individual  Man. — (1.)  Self- 
respect. — As  a  being  created  in  the  high  sphere  of  intelligent  and 
moral  existence,  and  possessed  of  an  immortal  nature,  man  enjoys,  in 
a  just  self-respect,  a  security  against  degradation  by  any  influence 
which  he  feels  to  be  unworthy  of  the  rank  assigned  him  in  the  uni 
verse.  Consciously  noble  in  origin  and  destination,  he  tends,  if  not 
perverted  or  degraded  by  habit,  to  noble  action ;  and  if,  in  the  pleni 
tude  of  Divine  favor,  he  is  consciously  recovered  from  a  fallen  condi 
tion,  he  feels  it  his  immunity,  as  "a  new  creature,"  to  have  been  liber 
ated  from  a  state  of  bondage — set  free  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  "  glori 
ous  liberty,"  and  impelled  to  run  a  new  and  noble  career.  Respect 
for  his  own  nature  and  personal  condition — when  kept  pure  from  the 
senseless  interminglings  of  pride,  or  haughtiness,  or  arrogance,  of 
overweening  self-esteem,  or  exclusive  self-regard — insures  to  man  the 
proper  dignity  of  his  being,  and  tends  to  elevate  all  his  aims  and  ac 
tions.  It  is  an  element  of  high  moral  power ;  and  the  judicious  culti 
vation  of  its  influence  is  a  prominent  duty  of  all  whose  office,  as 
educators,  constitutes  them  the  guardians  of  humanity. 

(2.)  Ambition. — Feeling  the  nobility  of  his  nature,  man,  when  not 
hopelessly  degraded,  instinctively  seeks  to  act  in  harmony  with  his 
conscious  position,  and,  under  the  influence  of  ambition,  to  aspire  after 
advancement,  in  every  stage  and  relation  of  his  life.  This  desire  may, 
it  is  true,  be  suffered  to  center  on  merely  selfish  purposes — on  the  per 
sonal  aggrandizement  of  an  individual,  to  the  exclusion  or  depression 

12 


178  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

of  others,  and  to  the  violation  of  their  rights.  In  such  cases,  it  sinks 
to  the  level  of  that  brutal  greed  which  prompts  one  of  the  inferior 
animals  to  usurp  the  better  place  at  the  trough,  and  monopolize  its 
advantages,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  weaker  members  of  the  herd. 

But  the  desire  of  advancement,  as  that  of  progress  and  attainment, 
is  utterly  free  from  all  considerations  of  relative  superiority  or  ad 
vantage.  It  is  obedience  to  an  ennobling  instinct,  pure  in  its  charac 
ter,  and  beneficial  in  its  results,  not  merely  to  the  individual  whom  it 
elevates,  but  to  all  whom  it  enables  him  to  aid  from  the  higher  sphere 
of  ability  to  which  he  has  been  raised.  To  the  student  it  is  a  most 
powerful  incitement  to  application  and  exertion;  and  in  the  relations 
of  moral  attainment,  its  influence  is  a  salutary  inspiration  of  the 
highest  order.  It  is  not  incompatible  with  the  purest  spirit  of  benevo 
lence,  in  the  largeness  of  the  plans  on  which  it  delights  to  work,  and 
the  inestimable  value  of  the  benefits  which  it  delights  to  bestow.  It 
urges  the  Christian  aspirant  to  "press  toward  the  mark,"  u  for  the 
prize  of  his  high  calling,"  and  incites  him  by  the  promise  of  a  "crown 
of  life." 

(3.)  Magnanimity. — Ambition  naturally  tends  to  generate  another 
personal  quality  of  noble  character  and  influence — that  magnanimity 
which  lifts  man  above  the  littleness  that  would  limit  the  scope  of  life, 
and  fritter  away  its  purposes  in  paltry  pursuits,  in  trivial  employments, 
or  low  gratifications,  in  snatching  at  mean  advantages,  or  mingling  in 
petty  strifes.  This  ennobling  virtue  incites  its  possessor  to  high  aims 
in  all  his  plans  and  purposes,  and  to  an  utter  disregard  of  meanness 
in  motive  or  action',  as  manifested  by  others  toward  himself.  It  over 
looks  malice  and  injury,  or  forgives  their  results.  It  disdains  rev<  nge. 
It  is  a  sure  preventive  of  that  sordid  narrowness  of  soul  which  induces 
man  to  drudge,  throughout  life,  for  the  mere  purpose  of  accumulating 
wealth,  or  to  practice  the  degrading  shifts  of  a  niggardly  parsimony 
in  expenditure,  through  fear  of  diminishing  his  hoards.  A  magnan 
imous  spirit  scorns  the  selfish  littleness  which  thus  wraps  the  individ 
ual  in  himself,  and  shuts  the  door  of  his  heart  against  the  natural 
claims  of  human  brotherhood.  It  gives  a  generous  breadth  to  meas 
ures  of  usefulness  and  benevolence,  and  raises  human  activity  to  a 
higher  sphere  and  ampler  scope  in  all  directions. 

(4.)  Resolution. — This  attribute,  so  important  in  all  the  practical 
relations  of  life,  implies  the  clearness  of  perception  and  readiness  of 
judgment  in  consequence  of  which  the  will  is  empowered  instantane 
ously  to  decide  the  course  of  action.  Hence  the  certainty  and  the 
swiftness  with  which  execution  follows  purpose,  the  invaluable  habit 
of  promptness  and  dispatch  in  l>u>iiie.ss,  and  of  punctuality  and  effic 
iency  in  j  erformancc,  as  contrasted  with  the  lagging  irresolution,  and 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  }Y9 

halting,  unavailing  endeavor,  which  invariably  issue  in  failure  and 
disappointment. 

The  power  of  energetic  and  decisive  resolve  determines,  at  once, 
the  practical  value  of  an  individual,  and  the  reliance  which  may  be 
placed  on  him  by  others.  It  determines,  in  fact,  the  mental  health 
and  moral  life  of  the  man,  the  efficacy  of  his  action,  and  the  estima 
tion  of  his  character. 

Many  constitutions  are  so  formed  that  even  this  trait  of  mental 
freshness  and  vigor,  so  natural  to  early  life,  in  general,  needs  diligent 
cultivation  to  secure  its  due  development  in  particular  cases.  The 
dreamy  indolence,  the  languid  inactivity,  the  tendency  to  aimless 
reverie  and  absence  of  mind,  which  proceed  from  organic  feebleness, 
wear  the  same  aspect  with  the  profound  abstraction  of  deep  and  earn 
est  thought,  and  thus  excite,  perhaps,  in  the  mind  of  the  parent  or 
the  teacher,  the  expectation  of  the  fruits  of  close  thinking  and  severe 
application — an  expectation  sure  to  be  disappointed.  The  irresolute 
youth  is  prone  to  sink  into  habitual  vacancy  of  mind,  indecision  of 
purpose,  vacillation  and  feebleness  of  judgment,  sluggishness  and 
utter  inefficiency  of  will. 

(5.)  Courage. — K  kindred  quality  of  soul  to  power  and  promptness 
of  resolution,  is  that  genuine  courage  which  man,  as  a  self-reliant  and 
independent  agent,  is  naturally  called  to  exert ;  and  which,  as  a  being 
of  conscious  energy  and  power,  bv  his  very  constitution,  is  one  of  the 
primary  instincts  of  his  nature.  It  enables  him  to  assert  his  place  in 
the  creation,  as  an  agent  intrusted  with  dominion,  to  a  vast  extent, 
over  nature  and  circumstance,  and  destined  to  a  high  position  by  the 
exercise  of  his  peculiar  endowments.  It  protects  him,  at  the  same 
time,  from  any  undue  ascendency  usurped  over  him  by  a  fellow-man. 
It  prompts  him  to  oppose  and  resist  every  encroachment  on  his  rights, 
and  to  imperil  life  itself  in  defense  of  his  natural  liberty  of  action.  It 
nerves  him  to  encounter  danger,  to  triumph  over  obstacles,  and  to 
master  difficulties.  It  lightens  toil,  and  facilitates  attainment. — 
It  gives  to  the  energies  of  individual  mind  and  will  the  comparative 
force  of  numbers.  It  enables  man  to  achieve  miracles  of  physical 
strength  and  moral  power,  not  merely  on  the  field  of  conflict,  or  un 
der  the  gaze  of  admiration,  but  in  the  solitary  grapple  with  physical 
obstacles,  and  the  daring,  unassisted  encounter  with  the  fury  of  the 
elements,  when  the  lone  adventurer  hazards  life  on  some  far  errand! 
of  scientific  or  humane  exploration.  In  its  higher  relations,  as  a  moral 
attribute,  it  inspires  the  individual  to  attack  usurping  or  even  ap 
proaching  evil,  in  its  most  formidable  shapes,  and  to  encounter  fear 
lessly  opposition  and  opprobrium,  and  death  itself,  in  the  cause  of 
truth  and  duty. 


LSI  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

Courage  may,  it  is  true,  degenerate  into  inconsiderate  rashness  or 
foul-hardy  temerity,  and  prove  itself  but  a  blind  animal  impulse.  It 
is  the  office  of  education  to  enlighten  and  elevate  it,  and  render  it  a 
ministering  spirit  of  good  to  humanity,  inspiring  it  with  intelligence, 
and  hallowing  it  with  the  sanctity  of  benevolence  ;  so  that  it  may  be 
come  worthy  to  fulfill  its  highest,  offices,  and  lead  the  van  in  noble 
endeavor  for  the  advancement  of  human  well  being.  Its  moral  power 
and  value  then  become  incalculable  ;  and  to  cherish  it  is  a  peculiar 
duty  of  the  educator. 

(6.)  Fortitude. — A  virtue  yet  higher  than  even  the  noblest  form 
of  courage,  is  that  Firmness  to  sustain,  to  bear,  to  withstand,  to  en 
dure,  or  to  resist  every  pressure  of  pain  and  of  suffering  which  inev 
itable  evil  may  call  him  to  meet  and  to  undergo.  Along  with  this 
upholding  power  usually  comes  the  equanimity  which  preserves  from 
extremes  of  elation  or  depression,  and  maintains  the  moral  identity 
of  the  individual,  the  patience  which  soothes  and  tranquilizes,  and  co 
operating  with  the  enduring  firmness  of  its  kindred  virtue,  contributes 
to  that  calm  self-possession  which  leaves  man  master  of  himself,  and 
equal,  in  his  native  greatness  and  acquired  abilities,  to  resist  the  as 
saults  of  evil,  and  bear  the  double  pressure  of  toil  and  pain  with  un 
shaken  firmness. 

These  arduous  virtues  are,  in  no  sense,  innate,  or  constitutional 
merely  :  they  are  the  fruits  of  diligent  and  persevering  culture — the 
attainments  of  the  trained  and  practiced  spirit.  They  owe  their  power 
to  that  self-education  which,  although  it  may  be  wisely  anticipated, 
must  ever,  in  substance,  be  purchased  at  the  peculiar  price  of  per 
sonal  experience  and  strenuous  endeavor. 

(7.)  Perseverance. — Another  quality  of  high  rank  as  a  moral  power, 
and  closely  allied  to  the  preceding  group,  is  the  persistent  firmness  of 
purpose  which  follows  so  worthily  in  the  track  of  dauntless  courage, 
and  enables  man,  with  the  aid  of  time,  to  accomplish,  in  life-long  bat 
tles  with  external  nature,  those  wonders  of  triumphant  human  energy 
which  inspire  successive  generations  of  the  human  race  with  mingled 
admiration  and  awe.  It  is  the  same  trait  of  persistent  resolution  that 
has  enabled  communities  to  struggle,  for  successive  years,  for  a  foot 
hold  among  the  family  of  nations,  and  to  endure,  to  the  verge  of  ex 
tinction,  for  independence.  The  same  element  sustains  the  explorer 
ofi  nature,  in  his  years  of  solitary  exposure  an<J  unmitigated  hardship, 
through  toil,  and  sickness,  and  peril.  The  same  sustaining  power 
cheers  the  secluded  student  onward  through  his  labyrinths  of  exhaust 
ing  investigation,  pursued  year  after  year,  without  aid  or  sympathy, 
yet  never  abandoned  till  some  glorious  discovery,  duly  verified,  crowns 
his  devoted  loyalty  to  science.  Indefatigable  perseverance,  in  the 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  181 

face  of  opposition  and  accumulated  difficulty,  has  been  the  condition 
of  success  in  many  a  noble  effort  of  philanthropy,  in  its  devoted  en 
deavors  to  alleviate  the  miseries  of  suffering  humanity,  by  meliorating 
its  outward  conditions,  enlightening  its  mental  darkness,  or  inspiring 
it  with  the  elements  of  a  new  moral  and  spiritual  life. 

Without  the  sustaining  power  of  this  attribute,  no  undertaking  of 
moment  has  ever  succeeded,  in  the  experience  of  individuals  or 
of  communities.  Yet  it  is  a  quality  in  which  the  young  mind,  in  its 
eager  desire  of  novelty,  and  its  need  of  alternations  of  activity,  is  more 
deficient  than  it  is  in  that  which  prompts  to  the  most  arduous 
attempts  or  heroic  efforts.  The  vigor  which  manifests  itself  in  firm 
adherence  to  plan  or  purpose,  is  usually  acquired  by  degrees,  under 
skillful  training.  But,  when  attained,  it  stamps  the  seal  of  certainty 
on  whatever  human  endeavor  is  competent  to  effect. 

(8.)  Self -government. — This  invaluable  trait  of  cultivated  character 
implies,  in  the  individual  who  possesses  it,  the  skill  and  the  mastery 
acquired  in  the  training  schools  of  conscience,  magnanimity,  resolu 
tion,  courage,  patience,  fortitude,  and  perseverance.  It  implies  all 
these  qualities  turned  inward  for  the  control  of  self.  Destitute  of 
self-command,  man,  when  brought  to  the  test,  is  but  as  the  infant,  or 
the  lower  animal — the*  mere  victim  of  passion  and  impulse.  The 
main  moral  element  of  character,  is,  in  such  cases,  wanting ;  and  the 
individual  sinks  in  the  scale  of  being,  not  only  in  its  moral,  but  its 
mental  relations.  The  exigencies  of  life  which  try  men's  souls,  and 
demand  the  perfect  action  of  all  their  faculties,  exhibit  the  inexpressi 
ble  value  of  this  trait  of  mental  and  moral  power,  by  which  man  is 
enabled  to  call  into  activity  the  nobler  elements  of  his  being,  and,  by 
their  authoritative  mandate,  control  and  restrain  every  lower  ten 
dency  of  his  nature.  He  thus  reigns  in  moral  sovereignty  over  him 
self,  and  reveals  the  true  majesty  of  manhood  ;  while,  in  loyal  subor 
dination  to  Divine  law,  he  manifests,  not  less  impressively,  the  moral 
beauty  of  the  spirit  of  filial  obedience. 

The  power  of  self-direction  and  self -guidance,  which  that  of  self- 
government  implies,  enables  man,  as  an  intellectual  agent,  to  concen 
trate  the  activity  of  his  whole  mental  being,  on  whatever  solicits  his 
thoughtful  attention,  or  tends  to  promote  or  enlarge  his  intelligence. 
Tn  the  moral  relations  of  his  being,  it  secures  him  against  the  allure 
ments  of  evil,  the  eruptions  of  passion,  the  wreck  of  his  peace  of  mind, 
or  the  moral  ruin  of  degrading  habits. 

Education,  in  its  common  forms,  it  is  true,  can  do  little  by  mere  ex 
ternal  precautions,  admonitions,  or  promptings,  to  confer  the  personal 
happiness  which  it  is  the  peculiar  office  of  self-government  to  bestow. 
Self-intelligence,  self-experience,  and  self-culture,  and  the  sanctity  of 


182  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

religious  principle,  are,  in  this  relation,  the  only  sure  reliance  for  hu 
man  virtue.  But  when  thus  grounded  and  rooted,  it  becomes  the 
firmest  security  for  every  trait  of  excellence. 

(9.)  Self-reliance  is  the  moral  reward  which  man  becomes  entitled 
to  reap  from  the  conscious  power  of  self-government;  and,  within 
such  limitation,  it  is  the  pledge  of  many  of  the  distinguishing  traits 
of  manly  virtue.  It  may,  without  the  genial  guidance  of  education, 
become  over-weening  confidence  and  presumption.  But  rightly  de- 
veloped,  it  is  the  proper  result  of  faith  in  the  attributes  conferred  on 
man's  nature  by  the  Sortrceof  his  being,  in  virtue  of  which  he  is  render 
ed  competent  for  the  station  and  the  duties  assigned  him,  as  an  intelli 
gent,  but  responsible  moral  agent.  The  conscious  feebleness  which 
induces  infancy  and  childhood  to  rely  on  the  power  on  which  they 
feel  they  are  dependent,  is  a  natural  and  appropriate  influence.  But 
in  the  history  of  the  moral  progress  of  the  human  being,  there  soon 
succeeds  a  stage,  in  which  for  the  highest  purposes  of  life  and  charac 
ter,  he  is  weaned  from  the  helpless  condition  of  dependence  on  others; 
and  self-intelligence  and  self-respect  consciously  demand  the  inde 
pendence  of  self-exertion  and  self-reliance.  A  manly  spirit  of  just 
confidence  in  conscious  ability,  never  inconsistent  with  the  crowning 
grace  of  modesty,  secures  the  sincere  respect  of  all. who  themselves 
feel  the  dignity  of  manhood,  whether  in  its  dawn  or  its  maturity.  It 
is  an  indispensable  element  in  personal  character,  as  the  pledge  of 
courageous  enterprise,  and  persevering  application,  of  firmness  of  pur 
pose,  efficient  exertion,  and  final  success,  in  whatever  the  sense  of 
duty,  or  a  just  ambition,  prompts  the  aspirant  to  attempt. 

14.  THE  SELF-RENOUNCING  VIRTUES. — The  dependent  condition 
of  childbood  suggests  the  indispensable  relation  of  habitual  obedience 
to  parental  and  guardian  authority,  and  unquestioning  submission  to 
requirements  which  the  young  mind  may  not  always  be  able  to  com 
prehend.  The  unity  of  plan  and  administration,  and  the  perfrct  sub 
ordination,  which  even  the  imperfect  vision  of  the  human  eye  can  dis 
tinctly  trace  in  the  arrangement  of  the  visible  creation,  suggest  to  the 
reflective  mind  the  universal  prevalence  of  Law,  as  the  prominent 
feature  of  Divine  government.  Order,  and  system,  and  gradation, 
which  man  sees  inscribed  on  all  things  around  him,  and  to  which  he 
is  conscious  that  his  own  mind  is  an  analogous  agent,  lie  feels  to  be 
indispensable  in  his  own  sphere  of  action.  He  recognizes  them  as 
prompters  endued  with  a  wisdom  and  authority  above  his  own,  and 
as  the  legitimate  directors  of  his  whole  course  of  action.  From  the 
habit  of  early  subordination,  acquired  under  the  guardian  care  of 
education,  when  rightly  conducted  in  the  sphere  of  home  and  school 
life,  the  self-intelligent  mind,  in  its  maturity  of  Christian  growth, 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  ^53 

iearns  to  recognize  the  paramount  claims  of  Divine  authority  to  un 
hesitating  obedience  and  cheerful  submission,  in  the  spirit  of  filial 
confidence  and  love,  even  when  patient  resignation  to  ordination  not 
understood  is  the  duty  of  the  moment,  and  the  utterance  of  the 
trusting  spirit  to  its  Author  can  only  be,  "  not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou 
wilt." 

In  the  relations  of  human  intercourse,  the  Modesty  which  feels 
what  is  due  to  others  as  exceeding  the  measure  of  merit  in  self,  is  no 
less  surely  an  attribute  of  true  nobility  in  man,  than  the  self-reliance 
which  forbids  a  feeble  dependence  on  others,  or  a  weak,  subservient 
compliance  with  their  arbitrary  wishes.  A  sincere  respect  for  just 
superiority,  indicates  the  open  eye  for  excellence,  as  manifested  in  the 
attainments  and  actions  of  others,  and  a  full  recognition  of  the  true 
worth  and  genuine  merit  embodied  in  their  character  or  conduct.  It 
is  the  rightful  homage  of  the  heart,  which  ennobles,  and  never  de 
grades.  It  restrains  presumptuous  self-confidence  and  arrogant  as 
sumption,  and  accepts,  in  true  nobleness  of  spirit,  that  lower  relative 
position  which  conscious  immaturity,  or  inexperience,  or  limited  at 
tainments  justly  assign.  It  constitutes  the  docility  of  childhood  and 
youth,  and  not  less  that  of  the  mature  student  of  science,  who  loves 
to  sit  at  the  feet  of  a  competent  instructor,  and  treasure  up  his  words 
of  wisdom. 

The  true  dignity  of  man,  as  an  intelligent  and  moral  being,  while 
it  secures  his  personal  independence,  arid  his  equality,  in  the  sight  of 
God,  with  every  individual  of  the  race,  is  by  no  means  inconsistent 
with  that  profound  respect  for  man,  as  the  offspring  of  the  Father  of 
spirits,  which  generates  humility  of  spirit  and  deportment,  between 
man  and  man,  forbids  all  assumption  as  usurpation,  arrogance  as  in 
jury,  and  haughtiness  as  insult,  and  yet  knows  how  to  meet  them 
with  the  gentle  spirit  of  Christian  meekness.  True  humility  deem? 
no  office  of  kindness  too  low  which  can  minister  to  the  welfare  of  a 
fellow  being,  whether  the  beneficent  act  be  gratefully  or  thoughtlessly 
received.  The  perfect  model  of  this  virtue  exhibited  by  Him  whose 
spirit  was  so  lowly  that  he  condescended  to  wash  the  feet  of  his  fol 
lowers,  was  nobly  copied  in  the  heroic  explorer*  who  did  not  disdain 
to  perform  the  lowest  of  menial  offices  for  his  suffering  crew. 

The  spirit  of  condescension  which  shuns  all  parade  and  formality  in 
intercourse  with  the  young  and  the  dependent,  and  easily  and  gently 
glides  into  sympathy  and  due  familiarity  with  all  worthy  fellow 
beings — which  skillfully  breaks  down  every  "  middle  wall  of  partition" 
between  man  and  man,  and  knows  how  to  "condescend  to  men  of  low 


*  Dr.  Kane,  in  the  scenes  ol  his  Arctic  expedition. 


184  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

i  state,"  without  tlic  display  of  condescension — does  homage  to  the 
Maker,  in  honoring  the  man,  and  recognizes  the  individual's  own  posi 
tion  as  on  the  common  level  of  membership  in  the  great  fain  ly  which 
has  but  one  Head  and  one  Master. 

In  the  management  of  the  familv  and  the  school,  the  whole  class 
of  virtues  on  which  we  are  now  dwelling,  requires  particular  attention 
in  all  communities  in  which  there  is  a  peculiar  tendency,  owing  to  the 
free  spirit  of  their  institutions,  to  place  a  high  nominal  value  on  those 
traits  of  character  which  indicate  independence  ai:d  self-reliance.  The 
unreflective,  unreasoning  nature  of  childhood,  early  catches  the  spirit 
of  the  moral  arid  social  atmosphere  in  which  it  breathes,  and  in  its 
natural  tendency  to  exaggeration  and  excess,  carries  what  might  have 
been  a  positive  excellence  to  a  noxious  vice.  The  absurd  and  cul 
pable  neglect  of  parental  control,  so  prevalent  in  our  day,  often  ex 
hibits  a  spectacle  of  apparent  insanity,  in  the  boys  and  girls  of  our 
families  and  our  schools  abandoning  the  natural  and  beautiful  charac 
ter  of 'their  years,  and  ridiculously  trying  to  play  the  part  of  self-re 
sponsible  men  and  women. 

15.  EXAMPLE,  an  a  Moral  Influence. — Imitation — the  power  by 
which  man  is  enabled  to  maintain  his  personal  analogy  to  surround 
ing  conditions  of  nature,  life,  and  character,  and  thus  to  conform  to 
the  laws  of  being,  in  their  requirements — lavs  him  open,  in  the  early 
stages  of  life,  more  particularly,  to  the  influence  of  example  in  the 
actions  of  his  fellow  bein<rs.  The  character  of  parents,  teachers, 

O  I 

companions,  is,  in  this  way,  unconsciously  transcribed  in  the  daily 
life  of  childhood  and  youth,  and,  to  a  great  extent,  even  in  the  habit 
ual  actions  and  expressions  of  maturer  years.  The  la\v  of  sympa 
thy,  written  on  the  human  constitution,  in  its  effects  on  the  imitative 
tendency  natural  to  man,  is  a  most  fruitful  source  of  good  or  evil  in 
every  moral  relation  and,  emphatically  calls  for  the  watchful  care  of 
the  faithful  educator. 

1C.  PKUDESCE,  as  a  Moral  Monitor, — This  virtue — if,  in  obedience 
to  ancient  classification,  it  may  be  so  called — when  it  springs  from 
just  and  honorable  motives,  is  a  nogatne  but  preventive  wisdom, 
somewhat  analogous  in  its  conservative  effects,  to  the  modesty  which 
reserves  itself  in  communication  with  others.  It  is,  indeed,  but  a  pre 
ventive  virtue,  yet  one  which  education  properly  inculcates  as  a  pro 
tection  against  manifold  evil  to  the  individual  himself  as  well  as  to 
others.  It  forbids  hasty  conclusions,  rash  resolves,  injudicious  com 
munication,  inconsiderate  conduct,  hazardous  undertakings,  foolish  ex 
penditures  of  time,  strength,  health,  or  other  means  of  useful  or 
l»eneficent  action.  It  resembles  thus  the  self-control  which  keeps  man 
in  possession  of  his  powers,  and  enables  him  to  use  them  at  will.  Its 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL  CAPABILITIES.  IQ$ 

moral  value,  therefore,  though  negative,  is  great,  and  great,  obviously, 
in  proportion  to  the  inexperience  and  unconsciousness  of  the  mind  in 
its  earlier  stages  of  progress. 

17.  PERSONAL  HABITS:  their  Moral  Value. — (1.)  The  observance 
of  Order  and  Method  in  the  distribution  of  time  and  the  succession  of 
occupations,  seems  to  be,  in  the  sphere  of  daily  life,  what  the  regu 
larity  of  alternation  in  day  and  night  and  the  return  of  the  seasons, 
is  to  the  year.  They  form  a  security  against  a  thoughless,  random 
mode  of  life,  destitute  of  steady  aim  and  purpose,  made  up  of  loose 
scraps  of  time,  unconsciously  or  idly  passed  in  effecting  nothing. 
Man's  dignity  and  destination  imperatively  forbid  such  a  life.  Moral 
ity  and  religion  equally  condemn  it.  But  from  the  multitude  and 
variety  of  objects  soliciting  its  attention,  and  of  desires  craving  grati 
fication,  the  young  mind,  unaided  by  education,  is  prone  to  lose  itself 
in  vague  and  abortive  endeavor  at  the  passing  moment,  instead  of 
relying  on  that  continuous  and  systematic  industry  to  which  nothing 
practicable  is  denied.  As  the  bark  of  life  floats  down  the  ceaseless 
stream  of  time,  the  hand  of  diligence  gathers  into  it,  hour  by  hour, 
the  rich  and  ever  increasing  freight  of  varied  acquisition,  in  anticipa 
tion  of  another  and  yet  happier  voyage,  in  the  great  Hereafter. 

Activity  and  energy,  in  any  pursuit,  are  valuable  or  successful  only 
as  far  as  they  have  the  continuity  and  sequence  of  system.  It  is  this 
logical  principle  which  gives  unity  and  invaluable  results  to  studies 
pursued  under  even  the  most  limited  opportunities  of  time,  and  which 
enables  the  student  to  weave  the  life  of  a  day  or  of  an  hour  into  the 
continuous  web  of  the  week,  the  month,  and  the  year. 

(2.)  Industry. — The  love  of  work,  and  the  habit  of  working — the 
steady  pursuit  of  a  practical  purpose  in  practical  forms,  is  man's  first 
step  in  the  efficiency  which  elevates  him  above  the  lower  tribes  of  animal 
life,  as  a  being  endowed  not  with  the  mere  sagacity — if  it  may  be  so 
called — of  instinct,  but  with  the  intelligent  forecast  which  foresees, 
and  fore-ordains,  and  prepares;  and  which  consciously  shapes  and 
sustains  a  definite  purpose,  and  willingly  and  skillfully  toils  for  its  ac 
complishment.  For  the  attainment  of  such  results  he  is  qualified  by 
his  original,  native  love  of  activity;  and  when  this  primary  impelling 
power  is  directed  by  intelligence  and  benevolence,  it  gives  efficiency 
and  success  to  all  his  endeavors,  whether  in  the  toil  which  wins 
the  treasures  of  knowledge  and  learning,  in  that  which  accumulates 
those  of  wealth,  or  in  that  which  indefatigably  works  for  human  good, 
in  the  labors  of  beneficent  philanthropy. 

A  judicious  apportionment  of  time  and  occupation,  however  is 
indispensable  to  successful  and  continuous  industry.  By  such  a 


180  MORAL  EDUCATION. 

method  only  can  the  fatal  evils  of  excessive  close  application  be 
avoided,  and  the  due  alternation  of  intervals  of  entire  rest  and  of 
renovating  recreation  afford  opportunity  of  restoring  and  maintain 
ing  the  energies  of  life  and  mind.  He  who  does  not  bring  to  his 
work  the  powers  of  a  whole  man,  is  incompetent  even  to  the  task  of 
the  moment,  and,  in  the  long  run,  his  exertions  prove  but  a  success 
ion  of  failures.  The  jaded  student  or  teacher,  and  the  harassed  man 
of  business,  are  alike  unfitted  for  the  nobler  moral  purposes  of  their 
being.  Habits  of  early-formed  obedience  to  the  Creator's  laws  which 
regulate  the  whole  nature  of  man,  are  the  only  sure  reliance  for  the 
possession  of  permanent  vigor  of  body  and  mind,  or  the  soundness 
of  moral  health  in  the  dispositions  and  affections  of  the  heart.  Noth 
ing  short  of  this  personal  morality  in  planning  and  conducting  the 
business  of  life,  can  secure  the  unity  of  life  in  the  whole  man,  as 
an  intelligent,  efficient,  responsible  moral  agent. 

The  hygiene  of  man's  moral  being  demands  the  most  faithful  at 
tention  even  to  the  minor  details  of  corporal  well-being;  and  in  no 
respect  can  education  more  effectually  subserve  man's  best  interests, 
than  by  an  enlightened  and  constant  attention  to  these  requisites  of 
mental  health,  through  the  whole  decisive  period  of  childhood  and 
yout'i,  which  so  effectually  determines  the  character  of  subsequent 
life. 

The  lengthened  catalogue  of  virtues  and  of  duties,  which  a  dis 
tinct  enumeration  of  the  moral  capabilities,  of  human  nature,  as  the 
subject  of  educational  culture,  required,  will  not  discourage  the  faith 
ful  teacher,  in  view  of  the  manifold  duties  devolving  on  him  as  the 
guardian  of  the  young  mind ;  if,  as  we  hope  he  does,  he  regards 
moral  culture  as  the  chief  part  of  his  work,  and  values'  intellectual 
attainment  in  his  pupils  only  as  it  conduces  to  the  higher  ends  of 
being  and  of  character.  Nor  will  the  extent  of  detail  in  our  sugges 
tions  be  objected  to  by  those  who  feel,  from  the  daily  experience  of 
the  teacher's  life,  how  close  must  be  the  watchful  observation  of 
disposition  and  habit,  and  how  thoroughly  practical  must  be  the 
meliorating  methods  of  influence,  in  the  management  of  the  school 
room  as  a  scene  of  moral  development. 

If  the  preceding  outline  of  classification  serve  no  higher  purpose 
than  that  of  a  convenient  list  for  reference  to  prompt  the  memory  of 
the  teacher,  in  his  endeavors  to  do  some  measure  of  justice  to  the 
numerous  sources  of  moral  influence  on  life  and  character,  the  pur 
pose  of  the  writer  will  have  been  effectually  accomplished. 


' 

'  TW 

.£*    -> 


THOUGHTS  ON  RELIGION  AND  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS. 

BY   RT.  REV.  GEORGE   BURGESS,  D.  D. 


IF  the  Chrstian  religion  be  from  God,  it  ought  to  influence  every 
thought  and  act  of  man,  and  to  control  every  department  of  human 
life.  If  education  be  the  school  of  character,  it  is  least  of  all  to  be 
excepted  from  the  sovereignty  of  that  religion. 

That  Christian  men,  therefore,  should  view  with  indifference  any 
attempt  to  establish  an  absolute  separation  between  education  and 
religion,  is  not  to  be  expected  from  them  till  they  renounce  their 
faith.  They  can  have  no  more  idea  that  a  child  can  be  rightly  ed 
ucated  without  instruction  in  the  laws  of  God  and  in  the  Gospel, 
than  that  a  man  can  live  without  the  same  knowledge,  and  yet  duly 
serve  his  Maker,  and  be  prepared  for  the  life  to  come. 

Education,  therefore,  must  be  religious,  and  must  include  instruc 
tion  in  all  necessary  knowledge  of  the  truths  of  divine  revelation. 
In  proportion  as  the  dignity,  the  importance,  and  the  efficacy  of 
education  are  magnified,  this  necessity  becomes  but  the  more  im 
pressive  and  undeniable.  If  the  educator  could  be  content  with 
defining  his  task  as  that  of  teaching  to  read  and  to  write,  or  even  to 
measure  the  earth  and  to  number  the  stars,  it  might  be  allowed 
that  this,  like  any  other  specific  skill,  could  be  imparted  without 
saying  a  word  concerning  duty,  or  sin,  or  salvation.  But  we  are 
accustomed  to  hear  far  higher  praises  of  the  work  and  of  the  men 
that  are  to  form  the  youthful  mind,  and  so  to  shape  the  chSfracter 
and  the  destinies  of  a  people.  Either  undue  and  exaggerating 
honor  is  paid  to  the  office  of  the  teacher,  or  he  must  teach  the  most 
sacred  truths,  as  well  as  those  of  inferior  majesty  and  of  only 
earthly  interest. 

The  honest  Christian  must  bid  him  take  his  choice.  Be  the 
teacher,  he  will  say,  of  an  art  or  any  number  of  arts,  if  you  will,  and 
touch  not  moral  things ;  or  be  a  teacher  of  all  which  makes  the 
man,  and  then  you  must  teach  the  knowledge  of  God. 

The  honest  teacher  will  answer,  either  that  he  is  a  Christian,  and 
is  ready,  according  to  his  ability,  to  teach  religiously  and  to  teach 
religion ;  or  that  he  is  content  to  leave  to  others  the  highe^task, 

(187) 


188  THOUGHTS    ON    RELIGION    AND    PUBLIC    SCHOOLS. 

and  to  teach  only  the  elements  of  secular  science  and  art.  In  either 
event,  there  is  no  longer  any  confusion ;  and  the  question,  whether 
there  shall  be  a  course  of  secular  instruction,  and  a  separate  course 
of  religious  instruction,  or  whether  one  course  shall  mingle  both,  be 
comes  a  question  of  possibility  or  of  expediency,  and  is  transferred 
from  the  sphere  of  abstract  principle  and  imperative  conscience. 

The  clergy  of  most  countries  have  adhered  to  the  wider  view  of 
education  in  schools,  and  have  insisted,  as  long  as  they  could,  that 
it  should  be  distinctly  Christian,  and  should  even  form  a  part  of  the 
ecclesiastical  system.  They  are  not  to  be  blamed ;  and  had  union 
in  religious  belief  been  preserved,  it  is  hard  to  prove  that  their  plan 
would  not  have  been  altogether  the  best.  But  for  this  it  is  now  too 
late.  In  all  free  nations  the  freedom  of  discussion,  doubt,  and  denial 
has  been  practically  asserted  ;  and,  for  all  purposes  of  religious  edu 
cation,  the  body  of  Christians  is  one  no  longer. 

In  education,  viewed  as  a  whole,  the  place  to  be  occupied  by  re 
ligious  truth  has  not  lost,  for  this  cause  the  smallest  measure  of  its 
importance.  Religion  is  still  as  sovereign  there  as  ever.  Somewhere 
in  all  true  and  sufficient  education  it  must  have  its  throne ;  and  from 
that  throne  it  must  sway  all  the  rest. 

But  the  State  can  support  no  such  throne ;  because  the  State  is 
composed  of  an  immense  mass  of  men  whose  religion  is  not  the 
same.  AVhen  education  becomes  a  matter  of  public  provision,  the 
very  highest  part  of  education  is  excepted.  The  public  school,  even 
if  under  that  name  we  should  embrace  any  more  elevated  institu 
tions  which  the  public  funds  might  sustain,  is  not  the  seat  of  that 
portion  of  this  moral  work  which  has  to  do,  most  directly  and  most 
mightily,  with  the  heart.  That,  however,  it  must  forego,  and  be 
contefll  with  its  own  appropriate  task  and  praise. 

The  higher  task  must  be  performed  elsewhere ;  and  the  conse 
crated  precincts  of  the  church,  and  the  equally  hallowed  walls  of 
home,  must  be  the  scene  of  religious  instruction.  It  has  there,  too, 
a  fitter  and  a  happier  sphere  than  the  State,  with  all  its  wealth  or 
its  universal  care,  can  attempt  to  furnish. 

All  this  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  undoubted  fact  that  re 
ligion  is  the  prompting  motive  from  which  public  education  has  had 
its  origin,  and  must  have  its  best  support.  It  sustains  that  educa 
tion  as  it  sustains  every  good  design.  It  desires  that  all  men  should 
be  trained  in  useful  knowledge  of  every  kind,  because  it  desires 
tin  ir^mprovement  and  happiness.  Ignorance,  in  its  view,  is  weak- 


THOUGHTS    ON    RELIGION    AND    PUBLIC    SCHOOLS.  189 

ness,  is  poverty,  is  exposure  to  moral  disease,  is  the  absence  of  many, 
of  the  highest  enjoyments,  is  the  obstruction  of  the  purposes  for 
which  the  beneficent  Creator  made  man  in  His  own  image.  There 
fore,  ignorance  is  an  enemy  to  godliness,  and  a  hinderance  of  salva 
tion,  as  well  as,  in  itself,  a  positive  and  mighty  evil ;  and  religion 
must  long  and  labor  to  remove  it  from  the  path  of  society.  To 
suppose  that  a  Christian  can  be  indifferent  to  the  intellectual  culti 
vation  of  his  fellow-men  would  simply  imply  that  he  had  no  appre 
ciation  of  its  value  for  himself;  for  he  must  wish  to  communicate 
all  which  he  prizes. 

It  is  perfectly  true,  also,  that  even  in  the  teachers  of  all  secular 
knowledge,  religious  men  will  desire  and  prefer  a  spirit  and  princi 
ples  like  their  own.  A  father  who  merely  commits  his  son  to  the 
instructions  of  a  writing-master,  would  rejoice  to  find  in  him  a  man 
of  Christian  worth,  and  would  feel  that  the  boy  was  somewhat 
safer.  It  is  not  possible,  in  any  department  of  life,  to  exclude  or 
neutralize  the  beneficial  influence  of  the  steadfast  fear  of  God  and 
the  sincere  love  of  mankind.  The  religious  man  or  woman  will 
always  be,  all  other  things  being  equal,  unspeakably  the  better 
teacher,  even  of  arithmetic  or  of  needlework.  Under  any  system  of 
public  education,  however  remote  from  a  sectarian  or  exclusive 
character,  this  preference  will  be  felt,  and  cannot  be  changed  into 
indifference. 

Under  these  systems  the  introduction  of  religious  instruction,  in 
combination  with  secular  instruction,  is  relinquished,  not  upon 
grounds  of  abstract  excellence,  but  upon  those  of  convenience  or 
necessity.  Accordingly,  either  the  system  is  not  extended  over  the 
youngest  or  the  oldest  of  those  who  are  to  be  educated ;  or  if  it  be, 
it  does  not  command  a  general  acceptance.  The  public  school 
offers  no  urgent  invitation  to  the  child  just  rising  from  infancy;  it 
leaves  him,  not  unwillingly,  to  the  gentle  hands  of  his  mother  or  of 
some  maternal  preceptress.  At  the  other  end  of  the  course,  colleges 
and  universities  are  commonly  allied  to  the  Church  rather  than  to 
the  State.  From  the  latter  they  accept  aid ;  to  the  former  they 
accord  welcome  intervention  and  an  active  control.  Not  merely 
financial  or  political  considerations  fix  the  limits  of  public  educa 
tion  on  this  side  of  the  highest  institutions  of  learning.  For  it  is 
felt  that  all  education  must  begin  and  end  in  religion  ;  that  the 
infant  must  learn  the  names  of  God  and  of  the  crucified  Kedeemei 
with  his  first  accents ;  and  that  the  young  man  should  not  go  forth 


190  THOUGHTS    OX    RELIGION    AND    PUBLIC    SCHOOLS. 

into  the  world  of  professional  study,  action,  and  influence,  without  a 
settled  faith.  But  between  these  two  periods  lies  the  time  which 
public  education  appropriates;  appropriates,  simply  because  the 
interests  of  the  commonwealth  require  the  instruction  of  all  in  use 
ful  knowledge,  and  because  no  other  power  can  furnish  the  means 
of  such  instruction  for  all  alike. 

If  the  task  of  religious  education  be  then  declined  by  the  public 
teacher,  it  is  left  in  hands  which  certainly  are  better  fitted  to  exe 
cute  it  with  dignity,  with  diligence,  with  fidelity,  and  with  tender 
ness.  It  is  in  the  hands  of  special  teachers,  whose  labors  are  volun 
tary  ;  of  pastors ;  and  of  parents. 

The  Sunday  School  has  become  one  of  the  institutions  of  society, 
wherever  the  English  tongue  is  spoken.  It  enlists  a  body  of  teach 
ers  whose  intelligence  is  animated  by  no  other  impulse  than  that  of 
Christian  love.  They  receive  no  hire,  and  they  wield  no  instruments 
of  discipline.  They  come  to  their  pupils  on  they  day  which  is  con 
secrated  to  all  holy  works  of  piety  and  charity.  There  is  nothing 
to  disturb  the  pure  influence  of  their  instruction ;  no  other  studies 
crowding  in  ;  no  intermixture  of  heathen  mythology  or  abstract 
science  ;  no  hurry  to  the  playground  ;  no  dread  of  the  rod  or 
superadded  task ;  and  none  of  those  hereditary  associations,  which, 
absurd,  unjust,  and  pernicious  as  they  are,  yet  do  still,  more  or  less, 
connect  themselves  with  the  relation  between  the  boy  and  the  pro 
fessional  teacher.  Love  is  the  bond  between  those  who  teach  and 
those  who  learn  on  the  Sabbath. 

When  the  pastor  is  the  teacher,  love  is  united  with  reverence.  His 
office  inspires  that  reverence,  and  his  intelligence  in  sacred  things 
merits  a  confidence  which  might  elsewhere  be  less  readily  bestowed. 
The  duties  of  pastors  to  the  young  may  be  but  imperfectly  under 
taken,  especially  where  the  ancient  and  most  useful  custom  of  cate 
chising  has  fallen  into  neglect.  But  it  would  still  be  great  injus 
tice  to  compare  their  influence  with  that  of  teachers  who  sustain  no 
sanctity  of  office,  have  devoted  no  special  study  to  sacred  letters, 
and  are  not,  in  virtue  of  their  office,  supposed  to  be  persons  of 
piety. 

But  no  teachers  have  an  appointment  more  holy  or  divine  than 
fathers  and  mothers.  The  cannot  but  educate  their  children  reli 
giously  or  irreligiously.  No  separation  can  take  place  in  the  train 
ing  of  home ;  for  that  is  purely  for  the  heart  and  soul ;  and  its  first 
and  supreme  end  is  the  goodness  of  the  child.  lie  learns  his 


THOUGHTS    ON    RELIGION    AND    PUBLIC    SCHOOLS.  191 

prayers  on  the  knees  of  his  mother ;  lie  is  taught  to  examine  him 
self  at  the  close  of  each  day ;  his  conduct  is,  without  ceasing,  sub 
jected  to  a  watchful  scrutiny ;  there  is  no  vacation,  no  recess,  no 
occasion  when  he  is  released  from  this  supervision.  These  teachers 
have  an  authority,  too,  which,  for  him,  is  the  direct  interpretation 
of  the  will  of  his  Maker.  To  the  child,  the  voice  of  the  parent  is 
the  voice  of  God;  for  so  has  God  commanded.  And  all  which  he 
hears  and  learns  from  these  sources  comes  to  him  as  nourishment 
from  the  bosom  of  an  exhaustless  love,  to  which  his  childhood  must 
cling  as  if  it  were  to  him  the  whole  wide  universe.  9 

This  is  the  provision  which  the  Church  and  the  family,  with  many 
collateral  aids,  assign  for  religious  education.  Piety  in  the  public 
teachers,  and  religious  truth  in  the  common  school,  would  be  addi 
tional  aids;  but  are  they  indispensable,  or  could  their  influence 
be  weighed  in  the  balance  against  all  this  ?  Whatever  may  be  the 
excellence  of  many  professional  instructors,  whatever  their  noble  en 
thusiasm  iu  their  calling,  it  is  not  to  be  disputed,  that,  as  a  body, 
the  teachers  of  public  schools  are  governed,  in  the  choice  and 
pursuit  of  their  occupation,  by  the  same  motives  which  incite  per 
sons  of  respectable  and  worthy  characters  in  all  departments  of 
business.  They  engage  in  it  for  a  remuneration ;  they  abandon  it 
when  it  becomes  unprofitable ;  or  they  exchange  it  for  positions  which 
are  more  lucrative  or  more  to  their  taste.  They  are  not  appointed, 
and  cannot  well  be,  for  their  personal  devoutness.  If  they  should  teach 
religion,  it  would  be  as  they  teach  grammar,  not  because  the  task  is 
known  to  be  enthroned  in  their  affections,  but  because  it  is  made  a 
part  of  their  business.  We  do  not  disparage  the  transcendent  benef 
icence  and  exalted  piety  of  many  teachers ;  but  it  is  an  accident,  so  to 
speak,  whether  these  mark  the  character  of  an  individual  teacher ; 
they  are  not  and  cannot  be  the  distinguishing  properties  of  a  class 
selected  as  teachers  must  always  be  under  any  public  arrangements. 
Little  will  it  avail,  that  a  cold,  dry,  unfeeling,  and  perhaps  unbeliev 
ing  teacher,  consent  to  teach  catechism,  or  to  open  his  school  with 
prayers.  A  truly  religious  teacher,  even  without  those  exercises, 
will  leave  some  impress  of  his  own  spirit  on  the  minds  which  he 
has  assisted  in  forming  and  replenishing.  This  can  be  attained 
even  now ;  and  if  any  would  avoid  this,  they  must  make  piety  a 
ground  of  exclusion  from  the  office.  The  most  determined  unbe 
liever  would  hardly  desire  such  an  issue ;  but  neither  can  piety  be 
made  a  condition  of  admission,  if  it  were  even  in  our  power  to  en- 


192  THOUGHTS    ON    REL1GIO.N    AND    PUBLIC    SCHOOLS. 

force  the  rules,  since  the  talents  and  acquisitions  which  make  the 
successful  teacher  are  dissociated  from  it;  and  since,  precious  as  it 
is,  it  cannot,  in  this  position,  be  deemed  one  of  the  chief  instruments 
on  which  the  cause  of  religion  must  rely. 

What,  then,  is  the  power  which  Christianity  cannot,  and  what  is 
that  which  it  con,  exercise  in  the  system  of  public  schools  of  a  land 
like  our  own  ? 

It  cannot  teach  all  its  doctrines  and  laws,  ns  they  are  held  by  any 
body  of  Christian  believers. 

•  It  cannot  blend  religious  truth  with  secular  instruction,  to  any 
degree  which  implies  the  attempt  to  communicate  systematic  reli 
gious  knowledge. 

It  cannot  attempt  to  inculcate  a  religious  character,  or,  in  other 
words,  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  precept  and  exhortation. 

It  can  take  for  granted  a  general  acquaintance,  in  the  pupils, 
with  the  facts  of  Christianity,  united  with  reverence  for  it  as  a 
Divine  revelation. 

It  can  infuse  into  the  teacher,  so  far  as  he  obeys  it,  a  spirit  which 
attracts  to  his  religion,  and  inspires  the  desire  to  resemble  its  faith 
ful  followers. 

It  can  afford  a  Christian  view  of  every  science  and  every  depart 
ment  of  knowledge,  and  show  their  connection  with  revealed  truth 
in  its  great  outlines. 

It  can  inculcate  the  whole  moral  code  of  the  Gospel,  by  rule  and 
example. 

It  can  exclude  and  counteract  every  influence  of  infidelity. 
It  raw,  in  many  instances,  with  the  universal  consent  of  the  com 
munity,  affix  a  more  decidedly  religious  character  to  the  school 
duties  of  each  day,  by  the  observance  of  daily  prayers. 

It  can,  with  the  same  consent,  introduce  the  Bible,  and  promote, 
by  daily  reading,  the  familiar  knowledge  of  its  contents ;  not  as  if 
it  were  a  mere  reading-book,  though  the  best,  but  as  the  generally 
acknowledged  word  of  God. 

It  c«;?,  with  the  same  consent,  which  may  generally  be  assumed, 
impress,  as  occasion  is  offered,  all  that  great  and  priceless  mass  of 
truth  in  which  all  Christians  are  substantially  united. 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES. 

BY   REV.    THOMAS    HILL,    D.D., 

PRESIDENT   OF   ANTIOCH   COLLEGE,    YELLOW   SPRINGS,   OHIO. 

[Reprinted  from  Barnard's  American  Journal  of  Education.] 


13 


ARTU  IK 


CONTENTS. 

FAUX. 

General  View  of  the  Field  of  Education,. .  .     4 


Mathematics,  Physics,  History,  Psychology,  Theology, 5 

Tabular  View  of  the  Studies  in  a  Course  of  Liberal  Education,  from  the  Sub- 
Primary  School  to  the  College, 12 

ARTICLE     II.  Early  Instruction  in  Mathematical  Studies, 19 

Geometry, 20 

Arithmetic 24 

Algebra, 26 

ARTICLE   III.  Natural  History;  or,  the  Study  of  the  Material  World  in  its  natural  state, 29 

Mechanics, 30 

Geography, 31 

Astronomy, 32 

Botany, 33 

ARTICLE   IV.  History,  Trade,  and  Art 41 

Language — venacular  and  foreign, 44 

Law — the  family,  the  school,  the  slate 48 

Misconceptions  corrected, 49 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES, 

(FIRST  ARTICLE.) 
BY  REV.  THOMAS  HILL, 

Waltham,  Mass. 


WE  take  it  for  granted  that  there  is  a  rational  order  of  develop-  / 
ment  in  the  course  of  the  sciences,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  followed  in/ 
the  course  of  common  education.     Starting  from  these  assumptions, 
we  seek  to  find  what  that  order  is,  and  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that 
there  are  five  great  studies _for  the  human  spirit,  —  Mathesis,  Physics. 
History.  Psychology,  and  Theology^  — -whiJeK "must  be  pursued  in  the 
order  in  which  we  have  here  named  them.     This  circle  of  five  points- 
must  be  embraced  in  every  scheme  of  education,  whether  for  the  nun- 
sery,  the  subprimary  school,  the  primary  school,  the  grammar  school 
the  high  school,  or  the  college.     No  one  of  them  is  to  be  omitted,  iA 
any  school,  until  the  student  enters  the  professional  school  in  which\ 
he  is  to  prepare  directly  for  the  exercise  of  his  profession  or  calling  j 
in  life.  • 

We  also  take  it  for  granted  that  there  is  a  natural  order  of  devel-  j 
opment  in  the  human  powers,  and  that  studies  should  be  so  arranged! 
as  to  develop  the  powers  in  this  order.    Starting  from  this  assumption,! 
we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  the  ability  to  receive  impressions, 
that  is,  the  perceptive  power,  first  shows  itself;  next,  a  power  to  con 
ceive  or  imagine ;  thirdly,  the  power  of  reasoning ;  fourthly,  the  power 
to  decide  and  act  upon  the  decisions  of  reason.     Moreover,  these 
faculties  are  called  out  in  their  proper  oresr  of  development  by  taking 
the  five  branches  of  study  in  their  proper  order,  —  and  this  harmony 
of  the  results  of  our  two  lines  of  inquiry  is  a  presumptive  proof  of 
their  correctness. 

These  are  the  conclusions  at  which  we  have  arrived,  and  which  we 
propose  to  illustrate  somewhat  at  length  in  the  present  paper.  Their 
great  breadth  and  generality,  and  the  demand  which  they  make,  upon 
those  who  accept  them,  to  change  the  whole  character  of  our  educa 
tion  from  the  hour  of  the  child's  birth  to  the  day  of  his  graduation 
from  college,  must  be  our  apology  for  the  length  of  our  remarks,  am? 
for  our  request  that  the  reader  should  not  dismiss  thtm  from  his  minf 
without  a  candid  consideration  of  their  value. 

It  is  manifest  that  the  faculties  which  are  nret  developed  should  be 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  197 

first  exercised  by  a  judicious  training.  It  is  true  that,  in  one  sense, 
all  the  faculties  are  developed  together,  —  that  glimmerings  of  reason, 
and  faint  indications  of  a  will,  are  perceived  in  the  youngest  infant. 

IThus,  also,  in  education,  the  child  is  to  be  treated  from  the  beginning 
as  a  reasonable  and  free  agent.     But  the  perceptive  powers  become 
I     perfected  in  their  action  long  before  the  reason  is  matured,  or  the  will 
I      strongly  developed.     For  the  first  few  years  of  a  child's  life  its  prin- 
I       cipal  occupation  is  that  of  learning  to  recognize  material  things  by 
their  forms.     This  natural  education  in  geometry  begins  through  the 
eye  at  the  age  of  a  few  days ;  and,  during  the  whole  of  childhood,  the 
attention  is  strongly  directed  to  those  characteristics  of  bodies  which 
\      appeal  to  the  senses.     By  the  age  of  fifteen  the  perceptive  powers  are 
1     frequently  in  their  highest  state  of  development.     The  powers  of  im 
agination  are  not  usually  manifested  at  all  until  the  age  of  two  or 
\    three  years ;  never  in  a  distinct  form  before  the  age  of  seven  or  eight 
1    months,  and  seldom  if  ever  attain  their  fullest  vigor  before  the  age  of 
1    twenty.     The   reasoning   powers  cannot  usually  be  shown  to  exist 
\  entirely  distinct  from  the  other  faculties  until  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve 
f  years,  and  seldom  reach  their  perfection  before  the  age  of  thirty. 
The  will  manifests  itself,  and  comes  to  maturity  no  earlier  than  the 
power  of  reasoning. 

Hence  nature  herself  indicates  that  the  studies  of  the  child  should 
follow  in  such  succession  that  his  perceptive  powers  should  first  be 
exercised  more  than  any  other ;  that  his  imaginative  powers  should 
•next  be  called  into  play ;  and  that  those  studies  which  require  reason 
ing,  and  those  which  treat  of  his  responsibilities,  should  not  be  given 
him  at  too  early  an  age.  A  man  must  first  learn  facts,  then  conceive 
hypotheses,  before  he  can  reason  of  abstract  truths,  and  deduce  laws 
of  duty. 

It  is  also  self-evident  that  there  must  be  a  natural  sequence  or  order 
of  truths,  or,  as  it  has  been  called,  a  hierarchy  of  sciences.  In  our 
view  of  the  whole  field  of  knowledge,  we  see  it  divided  into  five  great 
branches;  Mathesis,  Physics,  History,  Psychology,  and  Theology. 
I  Theology  treats  of  the  uncreated  Creator,  and  of  our  special  relations 
to  Him.  ^Psychology  .treats'  of  man,  wbo  may  be  called  'the  created 
creator."  History  deals  with  the  thoughts  and  deeds  of  men  ;  that  is 
with  the  creations  of  the  created.  Physics  treat  of  the  material  world, 
that  is,  of  the  creations  of  the  uncreated,  with  the  creation  in  the  usual 
sense  of  that  word.  Physics  thus  bear  the  same  relation  to  Theology 
that  History  does  to  Psychology,  and  may  hence  be  called  Natural 
History.  Mathesis  treats  of  that  field  of  space  and  time  in  which  the 
deeds  of  History  and  of  Natural  History  are  wrought;  that  is,  if  we 


198  THE   TRUE    ORDER   OF    STUDIES. 

consider  time  and  space  as  having  objective  reality,  Mathesis  deals 
with  the  uncreating  uncreated. 

Now,  all  possible  objects  of  human  thought  are  comprised  under 
one  or  another  of  these  five  heads,  and  these  five  studies  logically  pre 
cede  each  other  in  the  order  we  have  here  indicated.  Mathematics 
must  precede  Physics,  because  conceptions  of  form,  time,  and  number, 
necessarily  precede  any  conceptions  of  material  phenomena,  which  are 
subject  to  the  laws  of  form,  time,  and  number.  In  other  words,  Me 
chanics  treats  of  motion  in  straight  lines  or  in  curved  orbits,  of  the 
transfer  of  force  in  various  directions  subject  to  the  conditions  of 
geometry,  of  the  strength  of  materials  in  various  forms,  and  of  the 
adaptation  of  those  forms  to  the  purposes  of  art ;  all  of  which  implies 
geometrical  knowledge.  Chemistry  deals  with  definite  proportions, 
with  the  laws  of  multiples,  and  of  combinations,  so  that  it  necessarily 
requires  a  knowledge  of  arithmetic.  Botany  and  zoology  in  their 
morphology  require  both  geometry  and  arithmetic;  in  their  physi 
ology,  chemistry,  and  in  both  departments,  mechanics. 

As  Mathematics  thusjiecessarily  precede  Physics,  so  Physics  must 
prece4^History.  All  that  men  do  must  be  done  in  this  world  of  ours, 
upon  these  materials  set  before  us,  while  subject  to  the  conditions  of 
our  material  frame.  All  the  thoughts  of  men  must  be  expressed  either 
by  word,  by  symbol,  or  by  a  work  of  art ;  —  and,  of  these,  even  words 
imply  a  knowledge  of  the  outward  world,  for  all  words  were  originally 
figurative.  Hence,  every  historical  study  must  be  preceded  by  the 
knowledge  of  a  certain  amount  of  physical  truth,  that  is,  of  Natural 
History.  We  might  add  that  while  the  deeds  of  men  are  wrought  by 
physical  agents,  a  great  deal  of  the  thought  of  man  has  been  expended 
upon  physical  theories ;  so  that  a  just  appreciation  of  human  thought 
and  action  requires  a  knowledge  of  that  material  world  which  has 
been  the  theatre  of  men's  actions,  and  the  object  of  so  many  of  their 
thoughts. 

Again,  Psychology  requires  a  knowledge  of  Physiology  and  of 

\  History.    We  know  nothing  of  the  human  soul  save  through  its  actions, 

interpreted  by  our  own  consciousness ;  —  including  in  its  actions  its 

\  thoughts  as  uttered  in  words.     Lastly,  Theology  requires  a  knowledge 

\L  of  Psychology  and  of  Natural  History.     For  we  can  know  nothing,  by 

nature,  concerning  the  Creator,  in  whose  image  we  are  made,  except 

by  first  studying  his  works,  and  especially  that  image  of  Himself 

which  He  has  placed  within  us.     We  may  have  religion  with  but 

little  theology,  but  we  cannot  have  any  theology,  at  all,  without  some 

previous  knowledge  of  ourselves," and  of  the  other  works  of  God. 

1  It  must  be  evident,  therefore,  that  the  Mathematics  logically  take 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  JQQ 

the  lead  as  the  great  and  indispensable  foundation  of  all  learning.  It 
is  not  only  impossible  to  dispense  with  them,  but  impossible  to  place 
them  anywhere  else  than  at  the  beginning  of  all  intellectual  education. 
No  man  can  possibly  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  anything  in  the  world 
without  first  attaining  some  mathematical  knowledge  or  power.  That 
mathematical  knowledge  may  have  been  gained  unconsciously,  and 
may  not  have  arranged  itself  in  a  distinct  scientific  form  in  his  mind  ; 
but  it  must  be  there,  for  there  cannot  possibly  be  any  intellectual  life 
whatever  upon  our  planet  which  does  not  begin  with  a  perception  of 
mathematical  truth.  A  natural  method  of  education  requires  us 
therefore,  to  pay  our  earliest  attention  to  the  development  of  the  child's 
power  to  grasp  the  truths  of  space  and  time. 

J  Mathesis  would  naturally  divide  itself  into  three  great  branches, 
/Creating  of  space,  of  time,  and  of  number.     Geometry  unfolds  the 
J  laws  of  space ;  algebra  those  of  time ;  and  arithmetic  those  of  nurn- 
/  ber.     Other  branches  of  Mathematics  are  generated  by  the  combina- 
{  tion  of  these  three  fundamental  branches.     Now,  geometry,  arithmetic, 
and  algebra,  should  be  taught  in  a  natural  order.     There  is  a  difficulty 
in  deciding,  simply  from  the  logical  sequence,  what  that  order  is,  be 
cause  the  fundamental  ideas  of  the  three  studies  are  so  nearly  inde 
pendent  of  each  other.     Pure  algebra,  as  the  science  of  time,  cannot, 
however,  be  evolved  without  reference  to  number  and  space;  it  will, 
to  say  the  least,  in  the  very  process  of  its  evolution,  generate  arith 
metic.     But  geometry  can  be  evolved  without  the  slightest  reference 
to  time,  although  not,  to  any  extent,  without  reference  to  number. 
The  idea  of  number  is  one  of  the  earliest  abstractions  from  our  con 
templation  of  the  material  world. 

The  relative  order  in  which  these  studies  should  be  pursued  will, 
however,  be  made  more  manifest  on  reference  to  the  order  of  develop 
ment  of  the  child's  powers.     Number,  though  an  early  abstraction 
from  phenomena  in  space,  is  a  much  higher  and  more  difficult  concep 
tion  than  conceptions  of  form.     The  child  recognizes  the  shape  of  I 
individual  things  long  before  he  can  count  them,  and  geometry  should] 
therefore  precede  arithmetic  in  his  education.     But  time  is  much  morel 
difficult  of  comprehension  than  space,  —  it  requires  a  riper  effort  of 
the  mind  to  conceive  of  pure  time  without  events,  than  of  pure  space 
without  bodies.     The  latter  remains,  so  to  speak,  visible  to  the  mental 
eye ;  the  former  does  not  even  in  imagination  address  any  of  the  senses. 
Geometry  is,  therefore,  the  first  study  in  an  intellectual  course  of 
education ;  generating  and  leading  to  arithmetic,  and  through  that  to 
algebra ;  preparing  the  way  also  for  Physics,  and  thus  for  History, 
Metaphysics,  and  Theology.     We  must  begin  intellectual  education 


200  THE   TRUE   ORDER   OF   STUDIES. 

with  geometry,  leading  the  child  through  other  studies  as  rapidly  and 
in  such  order  as  the  amount  of  his  geometrical  knowledge  justifies  and 
demands.  Some  knowledge  of  geometry  is  gained  by  an  infant  within 
a  week  of  its  birth  ;  and  when  it  first  comes  to  school  it  has  usually 
gained  at  first  hand  from  nature  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  laws  of 
space  to  serve  as  a  basis  for  a  good  deal  of  other  information  picked 
up  here  and  there. 

If,  nOW,  We  Consider  the  nrdm^nfjmLiliyjaiflp  in  physical.  -Rfcud-yr-wfl 

shall  find  here,  also,  three  principal  jc^artmiuits^of  science^  mecbani- 
cal,  chemical,  and  vital.  The  laws  of  color,  sound,  odor,  and  flavor, 
appear^at  lirst  sight  irreducible  to  either  of  these  three  divisions  ; 


but  a  closer  examination  of  the  question  will  show  us  that  this  arises 
simply  from  an  intermingling  of  psychological  relations  with  the  physi 
cal  phenomena.  The  three  divisions  of  Physics  naturally  follow  each 
other  as  we  have  named  them.  Some  knowledge  of  jiiechanics,  that 
is,  of  the  lawsof  force  and  motion,Js_nec'essary  to_any  knowleJgej)f 
chemistry,  and  some  knowledge  of  chemistry__a  nd  of  mechanics  is 
necessary  forjiny  thorqygti  ^iH^r^im.lip.r  nf  p]nntc  m]  animals.  But 
it  is  evident  that  all  knowledge  of  Natural  History  must  begin  with 
observation  ;  and  that  one  of  the  uses  of  the  previous  knowledge  of 
Mathematics  is  to  teach  the  child  to  observe  with  accuracy.  The 
senses  through  which  we  observe  material  phenomena  are,  of  all  the 
human  powers,  the  earliest  to  be  developed,  and  should,  therefore,  be 
the  first  to  receive  a  deliberate  cultivation.  Now,  the  mechanical 
relations  of  bodies,  including  color  and  sound,  are  those  most  obvious 
to  sense;  the  chemical  are  more  difficult  of  discovery,  and  the  effect 
of  vital  powers  can  scarce  be  perceived  without  an  interpretation  from 
our  own  consciousness.  Thus  it  is  manifest  that  the  order  of  arrange 
ment  in  these  three  departments  of  Physics  is  conformed  to  the  order 
of  development  of  the  human  powers;  and  we  may  add  that,  in  every 
subdivision  of  these  smaller  departments  of  science,  the  same  princi 
ples  of  classification  will  give  us  both  a  theoretical  and  practical  guide 
to  the  natural  and  most  effective  mode  of  teaching  them  ;  —  we  must 
give  first  that  which  is  most  dependent  upon  direct  perception,  and, 
afterward,  that  which  is  more  dependent  upon  an  analysis  of  con 
sciousness  ;  —  give  first  that  which  is  most  nearly  a  simple  function 
of  space,  and,  afterward,  that  which  demands  the  conception  of  time 
or  of  force. 

\  In  attempting  to  subdivide  the  great  department  of  History,  we 
shall  find  difficulties  arising  from  the  complexity  of  the  objects  of 
human  thought  and  action,  and  from  the  multiplicity  of  modes  in 
which  men  have  expressed  their  thoughts  and  emotions.  But  we  are 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  201 

inclined  to  make  our  primary  division  fourfold.     In  the  first  division  I 
we  should  place  Agriculture,  Trade,  and  Manufactures ;  in  the  second  f 
the  Fine  Arts;  in  the  third  Language  and  the  history  of  thought;  in  ( 
the  fourth  Education,  Politics,  and  Political  Economy.     That  is,  the 
first  division  should  embrace  the  history  of  men's  operations  on  mate 
rial  things  to  produce  a  tangible  product ;  the  second  should  treat  of 
men's  use  of  forms,  colors,  arid  tones,  in  the  expression  of  thought ;  the 
third,  of  the  expression  of  thought  through  words ;  the  fourth,  of  men's 
action  on  each  other. 

In  Psychology  we  might,  perhaps,  divide  man  into  intellect,  heart,    | 
and  will,  giving  rise  to  intellectual,  aesthetic,  or  moral  and  religious 
philosophy. 

In  Theology  we  should  be  obliged  to  feel  cautiously  our  way  by 
the  light  of  Scripture.  A  natural  division  might  be  to  consider  the 
Divine  Being  as  being  first  the  Creator  of  the  world,  secondly  the 
Father  of  all  spiritual  beings.  The  first  would  lead  us  to  what  is 
called,  generally,  Natural  Religion,  the  second  to  themes  more  pecu 
liar  to  Revealed  Religion ;  the  first  would  treat  of  the  relation  of 
the  physical  world  to  its  Maker,  the  second  of  our  own  relation  to 
Him. 

Thus,  out  of  the  five  great  branches  of  learning,  Mathesis,  Physics, 
History,  Metaphysics,  and  Theology,  we  have  made,  as  a  first  essay 
toward  a  subdivision,  fifteen  classes,  to  wit :  Geometry,  Arithmetic, 
Algebra ;  Mechanics,  Chemistry,  Biology ;  Trade,  Art,  Language, 
Law ;  Intellectual  Philosophy,  Esthetics,  Ethics ;  Natural  Theology, 
Religion.  We  believe  that  all  sound  education  gives,  with  or  with 
out  the  consciousness  of  the  pupil  and  the  teacher,  instruction  in  all 
of  these  fifteen  studies ;  and  that  there  is  no  period  of  a  child's  life  in 
which  he  ought  not  to  be  receiving  direct  instruction  in  at  least  some 
of  the  classes  of  study  belonging  to  each  of  the  five  great  branches. 
This  instruction  should  be  adapted  to  the  child's  age,  consisting,  at 
first,  principally  of  those  studies  which  come  first  upon  our  list,  and 
of  those  which  are  named  first  under  each  branch ;  and  giving  only 
prophetic  hints  and  foretastes  of  the  higher  parts  of  the  course. 

A  true  system  of  intellectual  education  would  take  the  child  at  the 
age  of  five  years  and  give  it  daily  instruction  in  the  simplest  facts  of 
geometry  and  arithmetic.  Geometry  should  be  taught  at  first  without 
reasoning,  simply  as  a  matter  of  perception,  either  by  diagrams,  or, 
still  better,  by  tangrams,  bricks,  geometrical  solids,  and  simple  models 
for  generating  curves  and  curved  surfaces.  The  latter  would  belong 
to  a  period  five  or  seven  years  later  in  the  child's  life,  when  the  im 
agination  is  to  be  exercised  as  well  as  perception.  Arithmetic  should 


202  TUB   TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

also  be  first  taught  by  actual  concrete  numbers;  nothing  being  better 
than  a  handful  of  beans.  With  these  the  properties  of  prime  and 
composite  numbers,  the  commutative  principle  of  the  factors  in  multi 
plication,  and  similar  arithmetical  truths,  may  be  shoim  to  very  young 
gcholars;  and  the  laws  of  derivation  or  differentiation  illustrated  to 
older  pupils.  If  there  is  any  soundness  in  the  views  which  we  have 
given  of  the  hierarchy  of  science,  and  of  the  development  of  the  human 
powers,  such  works  as  Warren  Colburh's  inimitable  First  Lessons 
must  not  be  the  first  lessons,  but  must  be  reserved  to  the  age  of  twelve 
or  thirteen  years. 

In  the  department  of  Physics,  the  child  of  five  years  should  be 
trained  in  habits  of  observation.  Every  school  for  young  children 
should  have  a  cabinet  of  all  the  minerals  common  to  the  neighborhood 
of  the  school-house,  and  of  all  the  most  common  plants,  insects,  and 
other  animals,  —  or,  at  least,  good,  well-colored  drawings  of  them, — 
and  the  teacher  should  take  frequent  walks  with  the  children,  requir 
ing  them  to  look  for  natural  objects,  and  name  them  according  to  the 
lists  accompanying  the  cabinet,  until  the  child  can  name,  at  sight, 
several  hundred  of  the  plants  and  insects  of  his  native  town.  The 
attention  of  the  pupil  should  be  directed  not  only  to  the  form,  but  to 
the  color,  odor,  sounds,  tastes,  roughness,  or  smoothness,  of  the  vari 
ous  objects.  The  simple  mechanical  powers  should  be  illustrated  by 
simple  apparatus.  Attention  should  also  be  directed  to  the  most 
obvious  chemical  phenomena,  such  as  the  oxidation  of  metals,  the 
burning  of  coal,  &c.  By  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  years,  geography 
must  be  taught ;  at  first  wholly  from  the  globe,  afterwards  from  maps 
and  books.  It  is  also  important  to  give  the  child  early  ideas  of  the 
true  nature  of  the  sun,  moon,  planets,  and  stars;  their  size,  motions, 
and  relative  distances.  These  Natural  Sciences,  which  are  usually 
reserved  for  the  high  school,  are,  in  fact,  especially  adapted,  in  their 
rudiments,  for  the  primary  school ;  and  if  the  main  facts  were  set 
clearly  before  the  child's  mind,  at  the  age  of  from  eight  to  twelve 
years,  they  would  enlarge  and  develop  his  powers,  both  of  observa 
tion  and  of  conception  or  imagination,  and  he  would  be  much  better 
fitted  to  study  them  logically  at  the  age  of  sixteen  cr  eighteen. 

In  the  department  of  History  there  will  be  no  call  for  special  in 
struction  until  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  years.  The  scholar  may  then 
be  taught  to  observe,  in  the  fields  and  shops  of  the  neighborhood,  the 
modes  of  cultivation,  the  machinery  and  manufactures,  the  articles  of 
commerce,  and  the  modes  of  packing  and  transporting  them.  He 
must  be  encouraged  also  to  draw,  and  to  sing ;  the  drawing  being  at 
first  the  simplest  copying  of  the  outlines  of  leaves,  flowers,  &c.,  and 


TIIE   TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  293 

the  singing  being  at  first  simply  by  rote.  Language  he  will  have 
learned  orally  from  his  earliest  years,  —  but  at  the  age  of  five  or  six 
he  must  be  taught  to  analyze  words  into  their  phonetic  elements,  and 
a  few'  weeks  or  months  afterward  be  taught  letters  as  the  representa 
tives  of  these  phonetic  elements.  Spelling,  in  the  ordinary  sen>e, 
must  be  strictly  avoided  for  some  years,  as  it  has  a  mischievous  effect 
on  the  child's  whole  nature,  slight  and  usually  unnoticed,  but  real  and 
mischievous,  as  far  as  it  goes.  In  order  to  insure  good  habits  of 
reading  let  a  phonetic  alphabet  (books  in  the  Cincinnati  alphabet  are 
most  accessible)  be  used  for  at  least  two  years,  and  let  there  be  a 
daily  drill  in  phonetic  analysis  and  synthesis  of  words  for  four  or  five 
years.  As  for  Law,  its  rudiments  will  be  incidentally  taught,  suffi 
ciently  for  so  early  an  age,  by  the  discipline  of  the  school-house,  by 
accidental  references  to  political  questions,  and  by  the  rules  of  honor 
in  the  games  and  sports  of  the  playground. 

In  the  fourth  great  branch  of  study,  the  teaching  will,  at  this  early 
age,  be  also  incidental.  The  child  will  learn  something  of  its  intellect 
ual  powers,  its  tastes,  and  its  obligations,  from  its  attempts  at  study, 
at  drawing  and  singing,  and  at  keeping  the  rules  of  school.  And  in 
the  fifth  great  branch  of  Theology  the  child  of  tender  age  must  have 
his  reverence  for  the  Divine  Being  deepened,  and  his  conceptions  of 
His  attributes  enlightened,  by  being  taught  to  look  upon  crystals, 
plants,  and  animals,  as  the  workmanship  of  His  Wisdom,  —  the  pleas 
ures  of  home  and  of  the  school-room  as  the  gifts  of  His  love,  —  the 
actions  of  even  children  as  pleasing  or  displeasing  to  Him  in  His  holy 
oversight  of  men. 

It  would  be  tedious  if  we  went  on  to  greater  length  in  defining  the 
studies  for  each  succeeding  age,  as  we  have  defined  them  for  pupils 
from  five  to  seven  years  of  age.  We  will,  therefore,  endeavor  to  show, 
in  a  tabular  form,  the  order  of  study  in  each  of  the  particular  subdi 
visions  of  our  five  great  branches.  The  left-hand  column  contains  the 
age  of  the  pupil,  beginning  with  his  entrance  into  the  primary  school 
at  five,  and  ending  with  his  graduation  from  college  at  twenty-two ; 
the  succeeding  columns  contain  the  studies.  By  the  term  incidental 
instruction,  we  signify  that  oral  instruction  which  circumstances  from 
time  to  time  furnish  the  teacher  an  opportunity  of  giving,  or  that 
written  teaching  which  the  child  will  find  in  all  the  well  chosen  books 
that  it  reads  at  home  or  at  school.  This  tabular  view  is  not  proposed 
as  a  Procrustean  bed,  but  as  a  typical  plan  of  studies,  which  should 
be  somewhat  modified  by  the  circumstances  and  abilities  of  each 
student. 


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206  THE    TRUE   ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

We  of  course  would  attempt,  by  this  table,  merely  a  first  sketch  of 
a  plan  of  general  study,  in  which  there  is  no  room  for  detail,  and  on 
which  a  great  deal  of  careful  thought  must  be  bestowed  before  the 
proportion  and  arrangement  of  parts  would  be  practically  applicable 
to  actual  use.  We  have  introduced  it,  not  for  the  sake  of  giving 
details,  but  to  illustrate  more  clearly  the  general  principles  of  that 
plan  of  education,  which  we  think  is  in  use  in  Nature,  and  is  thus 
given  to  us  to  learn,  to  understand,  and  to  adopt.  It  will  be  observed 
that  in  each  column  severe  study  begins  later  than  in  the  preceding 
column,  and  that  the  same  is  true  when  we  take  the  wider  columns, 
which  are  separated  by  double  rules.  The  table  also  shows  how  varied 
and  extensive  are  the  studies  which  we  consider  necessary  for  a  pupil  at 
every  stage  of  his  education.  From  ten  to  fifteen  different  objects  are 
always  claiming  his  attention  and  taxing  his  powers.  We  have 
willingly  brought  this  point  forward  prominently,  because  upon  it  is 
founded  the  only  strong  objection  which  we  have  heard  advanced 
against  our  views  of  education,  during  the  ten  or  twelve  years  since 
we  first  began  publicly  to  present  them. 

It  is  said  that  our  course  of  study  is  so  extended  that  we  should  be 
able  to  give  the  pupil  only  a  smattering  of  each ;  that  the  powers  of 
the  child  would  be  very  imperfectly  developed  in  any  one  direction ; 
and  that  we  should  end  in  making  him  a  superficial  "  jack  at  all 
trades,  master  at  none."  In  reply  to  the  proverb,  we  would  retort 
with  the  saying  of  the  Stoics,  "  The  wise  man  is  a  king  and  a  cobbler." 
In  reply  to  the  charge  of  encouraging  superficiality,  we  shall  be  obliged 
to  explain  somewhat  more  at  length. 

According  to  the  scheme  which  we  have  given,  it  will  be  seen  that, 
by  the  age  of  sixteen,  when  children  usually  leave  the  common  school, 
we  propose  to  give  them  not  only  the  usual  proficiency  in  Reading 
and  Spelling,  Arithmetic,  Geography,  and  Grammar,  but  also  to  give 
them  a  knowledge  of  geometry,  of  the  use  of  logarithms,  of  the  ele 
ments  of  algebra,  of  the  elements  of  mechanics,  optics,  &c.,  of  the 
elements  of  chemistry,  of  the  plants  and  animals  of  their  native  town, 
of  drawing  and  singing,  of  history  and  of  languages.  Now,  we  confess 
that  the  attempt  to  introduce  these  studies,  or  half  of  them,  as  usually 
taught,  into  the  common  schools,  in  which  the  other  studies  are  taught 
in  the  usual  way,  would  only  result  in  giving  the  children  a  confused 
and  useless  smattering  of  everything,  a  correct  training  in  nothing. 
In  order  to  make  any  valuable  improvement  in  common  school  educa 
tion,  we  must  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  lead  the  scholars  upward  by 
the  path  of  nature.  The  labor  of  learning  to  read  must  be  dispensed 
with,  and  by  means  of  phonotype  the  task  of  learning  to  read  be 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  20  7 

reduced  to  the  pleasant  sport  of  a  few  months.  The  stultifying  pro 
cess  of  learning  to  spell  must,  if  retained  at  all,  be  made  a  diversion 
by  rendering  phonetic  print  so  familiar  that  the  ordinary  spelling  will 
be  remembered  for  its  comicality.  The  intense  labor  of  arithmetic 
must  be  postponed  until  the  child  has  learned  all  the  principal  facts 
of  number,  from  playing  with  beans,  and  the  labor  will  no  longer  be 
intense.  Geometry  must  be  introduced  by  blocks  and  tangrams,  and 
addressed  to  the  imagination  before  it  appeals  to  the  reason.  Botany 
and  zoology  must  be  begun  in  the  earliest  years  by  pointing  out  the 
weeds  and  insects,  and  showing  the  interesting  points  in  each  creature. 
By  thus  beginning  aright  the  child  will  find  the  subsequent  path  easy. 
But  the  child  who  has  already  attained  the  age  of  fourteen  without 
any  knowledge  of  nature,  or  geometry,  without  any  training  of  the 
senses  to  exact  observation  or  of  the  imagination  to  precise  conception, 
must  not  expect  to  find  his  path  easy. 

The  mode  of  teaching  each  study  must  also  be  adapted  to  the  design 
of  the  whole  course.  Each  study  must  be  begun  by  presenting  its 
facts  to  the  senses  or  the  imagination,  and  the  order  of  presentation  be 
determined  by  the  importance  and  obviousness  of  the  facts.  Then 
the  principles  of  the  science  must  be  presented.  But  the  distinguish 
ing  mark  of  teaching  on  this  mode  must  be  its  thoroughness  and  exact 
ness.  Let  the  fact  be  apprehended  with  precision.  This  is  the  most 
important  aim,  lying  at  the  foundation  of  all  education;  —  teach. to 
observe  accurately,  and  to  repeat  the  observation  until  the  precise  fact 
is  fixed  in  the  memory.  The  observation  should,  if  possible,  include 
all  the  sensible  qualities.  The  second  great  aim  is  to  produce,  in 
imagination,  vivid  and  definite  images  of  things  defined  or  described 
in  words.  The  third  great  aim  is  to  unfold  principles  in  such  way  as 
to  make  them  facts  to  the  pupil.  When  a  child  observes  accurately 
the  principal  facts  of  a  science,  and  remembers  them ;  conceives 
clearly  its  hypotheses;  and  understands  thoroughly  its  leading  or 
fundamental  principles ;  that  child  has  riot  learned  that  science  super 
ficially.  It  has  taken  him  but  a  few  months  to  gain  this  knowledge, — 
and  the  amount  of  it  is  small ;  but  the  question  of  superficiality  or 
thoroughness  is  not  a  question  of  quantity,  but  of  quality.  Inaccu 
rate  observation,  imperfect  conception,  erroneous  view  of  principles, 
these  are  the  proofs  of  a  superficial  knowledge.  But  the  accurate 
observer,  clearly  apprehending  and  understanding  what  he  sees,  is 
thorough  as  far  as  he  has  gone,  even  from  the  beginning.  And  if  a 
proper  selection  of  facts,  hypotheses,  and  principles,  be  made  when  be 
ginning  a  course  of  instruction,  in  any  study,  it  requires  but  a  moder 
ate  time  to  impart  a  valuable  general  acquaintance  with  any  science ; 


208  THE    TRUE   ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

not  a  vague  recollection  of  a  multitudinous  array  of  particular  facts, 
but  a  definite  conception  of  the  scope  and  spirit  of  the  science.  Or 
dinary  text-books  cannot,  in  general,  be  depended  upon  to  give  such 
views.  They  are  not  prepared  with  reference  to  a  broad  scheme  of 
education,  and  they  comprise  in  themselves  material  for  the  instruc 
tion  of  older  as  well  as  younger  scholars.  Even  those  text-books 
which  are  arranged  in  series  err  by  making  the  whole  series  too  dif 
fuse,  and  lacking  in  clearness.  Of  all  the  multitudinous  text-books 
which,  in  a  long  service  on  a  school-committee,  we  have  examined,  we 
have  only  seen  four  or  five  that  were  of  the  highest  order  of  excellence ; 
and  even  of  those  some  of  the  best  are  misused,  —  put  in  a  high 
sekooi  when  they  belong  in  a  primary,  or  in  a  primary  when  they 
belong  in  a  high  school.  The  book  for  the  primary  school  should 
present  facts  and  rules  judiciously  selected  and  carefully  expressed, — 
the  book  for  the  high  school  should  present  principles ;  selecting  the 
broadest,  most  comprehensive  principles,  and  putting  them  if  possible 
into  a  form  in  which  they  will  be  directly  applicable  to  use.  The 
highest  use,  however,  of  all  learning  is  to  fill  the  pupil  with  a  deeper 
sense  of  the  power,  wisdom,  and  love  of  God,  to  lead  him  to  a  more 
perfect  consecration  to  the  service  of  God ;  —  and  what  is  commonly 
called  practical  is  only  valuable  when  used  in  that  service.  The  five 
great  branches  of  the  hierarchy  lead  to  theology,  and  theology  to 
religion.  The  will  is  the  highest  faculty,  and  its  highest  function  is 
to  control  the  spirit  to  the  service  of  the  Highest,  to  the  pursuit  of  the 
beautiful,  the  good,  and  the  true ;  finding  the  highest  beauty  in  virtue, 
the  highest  goodness  in  consecration  to  the  service  of  God's  creatures, 
the  highest  truth  in  the  knowledge  of  Him  and  of  our  relations  to 
Him. 

But  to  return  to  superficiality,  to  which  our  scheme  of  education 
may  lead  those  who  but  partially  adopt  it,  we  say  that  accuracy  in 
laying  the  foundations,  accuracy  in  apprehending  the  principal  facts, 
accuracy  in  comprehending  fundamental  principles,  is  the  true  measure 
of  thoroughness,  and  the  true  preparation  for  forming  an  extensive 
acquaintance  with  special  facts  and  subordinate  principles.  Without 
this  thoroughness  of  foundation  the  so-called  thorough  acquaintance 
of  the  specialist  is  of  very  little  value;  it  amounts  only  to  intellectual 
lumber.  The  child's  powers  are  to  be  developed  in  due  proportion, 
and  he  is  to  be  furnished  with  the  most  useful  knowledge  that  he  can 
obtain  at  his  age.  Neither  of  these  ends  is  obtained  in  our  ordinary 
schooling,  in  which  Spelling  and  Arithmetic,  and  Statistical  Geog 
raphy  occupy  the  child  for  four  or  five  years,  and  he  nevertheless 
leaves  school  without  ever  having  been  led  to  observe  the  relation  be- 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  209 

twcen  p,  b,  /,  »,  w,  or  to  note  whether  wh  or  hw  comes  nearer  to  the 
initial  sound  of  such  a  word  as  when;  he  leaves  school  without  know 
ing  that  every  number  is  either  prime  or  the  product  of  certain  primes ; 
without  knowing  how  many  great  coast  lines  are  arcs  of  great  circles 
tangent  to  the  polar  circles,  or  having  a  clear  idea  what  physical  fact 
in  nature  is  represented  by  those  polar  circles. 

Our  remarks  have  thus  far  had  almost  exclusive  reference  to  simply 
intellectual  education.  Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  we  ignore  other 
branches  of  instruction.  A  child  is  a  spirit,  whose  will  manifests 
itself  through  a  body  under  the  guidance  of  reason,  and  at  the  impulse 
of  passion.  Here  are,  then,  four  kinds  of  education  which  he  needs,  — 
an  education  of  the  body,  an  education  of  the  heart,  an  education  of 
the  intellect,  and  an  education  of  the  will.  These  four  departments 
of  culture  must  proceed  together  harmoniously,  and  will  do  so  easily 
according  to  our  scheme  of  intellectual  education.  The  body  must  be 
cared  for,  by  giving  the  child  abundance  of  out-door  cheerful  exercise. 
At  home  the  parents  must  also  provide  suitable  food  and  clothing. 
The  special  organs  subservient  to  the  mind  should  receive  also  the 
teacher's  care.  The  susceptibility  of  the  senses  to  external  impressions 
differs  by  nature,  but  the  differences  of  this  susceptibility  are  usually 
marked  by  the  still  greater  differences  produced  by  culture,  in  the 
ability  to  interpret  those  impressions.  Careless  observers  of  the  blind 
have  reported  them  as  having  marvellous  sensitiveness  in  the  organs 
of  touch  and  of  hearing;  but  the  marvellousness  is  not  in  their  sen 
sitiveness,  but  in  the  accuracy  of  judgment,  acquired  by  habit,  con 
cerning  the  bearing  of  faint  impression  through  those  senses.  The 
accuracy  of  our  judgment  upon  sensations  may  always  be  improved 
by  a  culture  similar  to  that  imposed  by  nature  upon  those  deprived 
of  part  of  their  organs  of  sensation. 

The  present  paper  has  been  chiefly  occupied  with  a  sketch  of  the 
true  order  of  studies  in  intellectual  education.  The  three  other  parts 
of  a  child's  training  are  equally  important,  and  each  opens  a  wide 
field  of  investigation  and  discussion. 

Physical  education  must  give  the  child,  as  far  as  hereditary  weak 
ness  of  constitution,  or  unavoidable  accidents  of  position,  allow,  a 
healthy,  vigorous,  strong  body,  with  quick  and  accurate  senses. 

Intellectual  education  must  develop  the  child's  power  of  thought 
and  give  him  a  clear  understanding  (as  far  as  it  is  permitted  to  our 
capacity),  of  his  relation  to  the  world,  and  to  his  Maker.  This  edu 
cation  is  to  be  conducted  with  reference  to  the  order  of  succession  in 
the  great  hierarchy  of  Science,  as  we  have  explained  at  length  in  the 

present  article. 

14 


;10  THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES. 

Moral  culture  must  develop  in  the  child,  as  far  as  native  gifts  will 
allow,  pure  tastes,  a  cheerful  and  affectionate  temper,  a  loving,  con 
fiding  heart,  a  tender  conscience.  This  culture  is,  in  general,  to  be 
effected  not  only  by  precept  but  by  example,  and  by  treatment ;  — 
showing  to  the  child  the  temper  you  expect  from  it  in  return,  and 
leading  it  at  least  to  do  those  things  which  a  good  heart  would  prompt 
a  wise  and  good  man  to  do. 

r  Religious  culture  is  the  development  of  the  will.     It  begins,  there- 
/fure,  so  soon  as  the  child  is  taught  to  apply  itself  either  to  study  or 
I  to  work.     The  necessity  for  labor  is  the  first  serious  demand  upon  the 
will,  and  develops  that  power  which  most  nobly  manifests  itself  when 
the  young  man,  on  arriving  at  mature  life,  devotes  himself  with  unwa 
vering  earnestness  to  serving  God  and  God's  children  in  that  mode  in 
which  he  judges  he  can  serve  them  most  effectually ;  forgetting  all 
purely  selfish  aims,  and  counting  not  even  his  life  dear  to  him  if  he 
can  finish  the  work  which  has  been  given  him  to  do. 

We  propose  to  continue,  in  future  numbers  of  this  Journal,  the 
discussion  of  these  views  of  education,  taking  up  the  five  branches 
of  the  hierarchy  in  succession,  and  showing  in  what  manner  the 
general  principles  which  we  have  now  announced  should  influence 
the  practical  work  of  the  teacher  and  of  the  parent,  especially 
in  the  earlier  years  of  the  child's  life.  We  are  fully  aware  that  in  so 
large  an  undertaking  there  is  room  for  error  of  opinion  ;  but  of  the 
correctness  of  the  first  division  of  the  hierarchy  into  five  branches 
we  have  no  doubt ;  nor  of  the  propriety  of  cultivating  observation 
before  imagination,  and  imagination  before  reasoning.  Still  los 
can  we  doubt  that  the  primary  need  among  educators  is  the  need 
of  firmly-established  and  wide-reaching  principles,  such  as  those  which 
we  have  here  attempted  to  attain.  If  any  man  thinks  that  we  have 
failed,  let  him  join  with  us  in  hoping  that  we  may,  at  least,  stimulate 
some  reader  to  more  successful  efforts. 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES, 
(SECOND  ARTICLE.) 

BY    BEV.     THOMAS    HILL. 


•  J 
Waltham,  Mass. 


IN  our  former  article  we  gave  a  general  view  of  the  whole  field  of 
education  as  it  presents  itself  to  us.  We  propose,  now,  to  take  it  up 
more  in  detail,  and,  in  the  present  article,  to  treat  particularly  of 
early  instruction  in  mathematical  studies.  But,  before  we  begin  the 
discussion  of  the  special  subject,  let  us  briefly  recapitulate  the  general 
views,  which  lead  us  to  assign  this  special  study  a  primary  place  in 
education. 

A  child's  will,  under  the  guidance  of  reason,  and  at  the  impulse  of 
passion  or  feeling,  manifests  itself  through  a  physical  organization. 
A  fourfold  education  is  therefore  needed.  It  is  essential  that  the 
body  should  be  in  good  health,  and  that  its  powers,  both  of  percep 
tion  and  of  action,  should  be  trained  to  promptness,  accuracy,  and 
efficiency.  It  is  necessary  that  just  sentiments  and  pure  emotions 
should  be  fostered,  evil  passions  and  wrong  desires  repressed.  Nor 
can  we  neglect  the  enlightenment  of  the  reason  and  the  training  of 
the  logical  powers.  Least  of  all  will  a  true  education  fail  to  give 
energy  and  purity  of  purpose  to  the  will. 

Now,  these  four  modes  of  education,  —  the  religious,  which  directs 
and  strengthens  the  will,  the  intellectual,  which  informs  and  develops 
the  reason,  the  moral,  which  cultivates  the  taste  and  restrains  the  pas 
sions,  and  the  physical,  which  exercises  the  senses  and  develops  the 
muscles,  —  must  be  carried  on  together,  and  not  one  of  them  can  be 
neglected  with  impunity  by  those  intrusted  with  the  education  of 
youth,  whether  in  the  nursery,  the  school,  or  the  college. 

I  Again,  there  are  three  sets  of  intellectual  powers,  —  the  perceptive, 
the  conceptive,  and  the  logical.  All  knowledge  rests  on  a  double 
basis  of  perception  and  conception  ;  but  perception  logically  precedes 
conception.  The  powers  of  imagination  and  reasoning  are  developed 
through  the  exercise  given  by  observation ;  hence  the  natural  order 
of  education  would  be,  to  teach  first  those  sciences  most  dependent 
on  observation,  and  lastly  those  most  dependent  on  consciousness. 
Now,  this  order  will  lead  us  first  to  mathematics,  the  science  in  which 
consciousness  pl;>ys  the  least  important  part ;  for,  although  our  ideas  of 


212  THE   TRUE   ORDER    OF   STUDIES. 

time  come  from  inward  observation,  and  are  thus  partly  derived  from 
consciousness,  the  idea  of  space,  which  is  the  more  important  element 
in  mathematics,  is  wholly  from  without.  But  in  no  other  science  is 
there  any  idea  which  is  wholly  free  from  dependence  upon  our  own 
consciousness  of  power.  Geometry  is  thus  shown  to  be  naturally  the 
first  study  fora  child  ;  it  is  of  all  studies  least  dependent  on  intuitions, 
and  therefore  is  best  adapted  for  the  undeveloped  mind.  But  geom 
etry  and  the  mathematics  in  general  have  a  higher  claim  to  be  the 
first  study  of  a  scholar  than  their  mere  adaptation  to  the  weakness 
of  the  inexperienced  student.  They  are  the  necessary  prelnde  to  the 
understanding  of  other  sciences.  It  must  at  all  events  be  conceded 
that  a  minute  and  thorough  acquaintance  with  mathematical  principles 
is  a  necessary  part  of  any  successful  preparation  for  the  study  of 
physics.  Geometry  or  the  calculus  is  the  Ithurielrs  spear  which  is 
able  to  make  a  plausible  physical  theory  assume  its  true  appearance 
of  falsehood  and  deformity. 

But,  among  the  various  branches  of  mathematics,  which  takes  pre 
cedence  in  time?  Which  conies  first  in  the  order  of  study,  —  geom 
etry,  algebra  or  arithmetic  ?  Beyond  all  controversy,  we  must  say 
geometry.  The  idea  of  form  is  the  first  of  all  the  ideas,  on  which  any 
science  has  been  founded,  to  enter  the  child's  mind.  The  child  learns 
to  recognize  innumerable  objects  by  their  shapes,  many  months  and 
usually  even  several  years  before  it  is  able  to  count.  What  stronger 
testimony  could  Nature  bear  to  the  propriety  of  teaching  geometry 
before  arithmetic?  We  may  also  remark  that  the  history  of  the  race 
confirms  this  view  of  the  proper  succession  of  mathematical  studies. 
Geometry  had  made  great  advances  while  yet  arithmetic  was  but 
partially  developed,  and  algebra  had  not  yet  been  invented. 

A  young  child,  whose  attention  is  easily  arrested  by  mere  differ 
ences  of  figure,  will  usually  prove  an  apter  scholar,  in  geometry, 
than  an  older  child,  whose  mind  has  become  partially  accustomed 
to  abstract  thought,  and  whose  attention  is  not  so  readily  fixed  on 
differences  of  simple  outline.  We  have,  for  the  sake  of  testing  this 
view,  given  isolated  experimental  lessons  to  children  of  various  agos, 
and  to  the  same  child  at  various  periods  of  his  life;  and,  although 
we  have  not  kept  any  such  precise  record  of  these  experiments  as 
their  importance  deserved,  we  have  been  convinced  that  they  sustained 
our  theory.  A  boy  of  fifteen,  who  has  never  studied  geometry,  is  not 
so  well  prepared  to  study  it  as  he  was  at  the  age  of  eight  or  ten.  Of 
course  we  do  not  mean  that  a  child  under  ten  years  of  age  is  capable 
of  following  geometrical  demonstrations  ;  —  this  would  be  contrary  to 
all  our  philosophy  of  the  subject.  The  powers  of  reasoning  required 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  213 

in  geometrical  demonstration  are  not  developed  until  four  or  five 
years  later. 

One  great  cause  of  the  neglect  of  geometry,  in  our  primary  school 
education,  is  doubtless  to  be  found  in  this  i'alse  view  of  the  study ; 
—  that  it  is  simply  a  logical  drill.  Even  many  of  the  admirers  of 
mathematics,  pleading  for  the  use  of  geometry  in  education,  take  this 
view  of  the  study,  that  it  is  a  means  of  developing  the  power  of  con 
tinuous  thought  and  consecutive  reasoning.  Thus,  also,  in  Sir  William 
Hamilton's  argument  against  the  study,  he  contents  himself  with 
showing  that  other  sciences  afford  better  training  for  the  powers  of 
logical  thought. 

But  the  powers  of  observation  and  the  powers  of  imagination  or 
conception  are  as  important  as  those  of  reasoning;  and  the  great 
value  of  geometry  for  the  young  child  is  the  stimulus  which  it  gives 
to  the  habit  of  exact  observation,  and  to  the  power  of  clear,  definite 
conception.  In  order  to  produce  this  beneficial  effect  upon  a  child's 
mind,  it  must  however  be  presented  in  a  form  adapted  to  his  powers, 
and  to  his  natural  modes  of  thought.  We  have  found,  in  our  own 
experience,  nothing  better,  for  the  first  lessons,  than  the  little  bricks 
described  by  Miss  Edgeworth.  We  do  not  refer  to  the  blocks  of 
various  shapes  which  may  be  ordinarily  found  in  the  toy-shops. 
Those  described  in  "Frank "are  much  better,  —  rectangular  paral 
lelepipeds,  whose  dimensions  are  in  the  ratio  1:2:4.  Those  which 
we  have  had  manufactured  and  placed  for  sale  with  Messrs.  Holden 
&  Cutter,  Boston,  are  of  birch  or  maple,  two  inches  long,  one 
inch  wide,  and  half  an  inch  thick.  WThen  made  with  care,  exactly 
in  these  proportions,  and  provided  with  a  small  percentage  of 
blocks  having  the  same  width  and  depth,  but  of  the  length  of  one 
inch  and  of  four  inches,  they  furnish  the  means  not  only  of  inexhaust 
ible  Amusement,  but  of  valuable  intellectual  development.  They 
should  be  in  the  hands  of  a  child  from  the  time  he  is  eighteen  months 
old  to  the  age  of  ten  years.  The  child  must  be  taught  to  lay  these 
bricks  exactly,  breaking  joints,  binding  courses  together,  and  so  on, 
as  in  real  brickwork.  The  variety  of  structures,  all  beautiful  and 
symmetrical,  which  an  ingenious  boy  of  ten  years  old  will  make  with 
a  hundred  of  these  assorted  blocks,  would  astonish  the  uninitiated. 
Square  and  circular  buildings,  pyramids,  crosses,  gateways,  columns 
surmounted  by  crosses,  and  natural  arches  of  various  forms,  may  be 
combined  in  a  variety  of  modes.  For  the  building  of  real  arches, 
centerings  must  be  provided,  and  also  a  substitute  for  mortar  in  the 
shape  of  numerous  little  keystones  or  wooden  wedges,  one  of  which  is 
to  be  inserted  in  each  joint  of  the  arch  before  the  centering  is  removed. 


214  TIIE    TRUE   ORDER    OF   STUDIES. 

It  will  be  apparent  that  this  play  cultivates  the  imagination,  as  well 
as  the  observing  power**,  and  leads,  under  the  guidance  of  a  teacher, 
to  habits  of  precision  in  observing  and  in  acting. 

The  second  means  of  geometrical  education  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Chinese  tangram  or  geometrical  puzzle.  This  consists  in  givin^  a 
child  the  outlines  of  a  figure,  and  requiring  him  to  form  the  figure  by 
placing  together  a  given  number  of  pasteboard  triangles.  Outlines 
should  at  first  be  given,  which  may  be  formed  by  placing  together 
two  or  three  triangles,  and  the  complexity  of  the  outline  may  after 
wards  be  increased  so  as  to  require  as  many  as  seven  pieces  of  paste 
board.  These  puzzles  are  adapted  for  children  of  the  age  of  from  four 
to  twelve  years.  They  cultivate  the  .power  of  exact  observation,  and 
of  the  rapid  analysis  or  dissection  offorjus. 

When  the  child  is  able  to  analyze  Jjgures  composed  of  three  or  four 
triangles,  which  may  be  at  the  age  of  from  six  to  eight  years,  he  will 
be  ready  for  geometrical  truth  in  an  abstract  form  of  words  ;  but 
great  care  must  be  taken  that  he  do  not  learn  to  say  the  words  by 
rote.  The  great  value  of  geometry,  to  a  child  of  that  a^e,  lies  in 
the  power,  which  it  may  give  him,  of  building  a  clear  and  precise 
image  in  his  mind  of  that  which  he  has  not  actually  seen.  Care  must 
also  be  taken  not  to  attempt  to  make  him  understand  the  proof  of  the 
proposition  which  you  announce  to  him ;  —  let  him  receive  it  on  trust, 
as  food  for  his  imagination,  and  not  attempt  to  establish  it  as  a  datum 
for  reasoning.  If  the  child  asks  for  proof,  and  the  demonstration  is 
fully  within  the  grasp  of  his  mind,  it  may  be  well  to  give  it  to  him  ; 
but  there  are  few  children  under  ten  years  who  are  capable  of  under 
standing  the  simplest  geometrical  demonstration.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  are  primary  schools  in  Waflham  in  which  scores  of  children, 
under  ten  years  of  age,  have  been  made  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  leading  truths  of  the  geometry  of  the  triangle  and  the  circle  ; 
many  also,  under  the  age  of  twelve,  who  have  obtained  a  clear  knowl 
edge  of  the  relations  of  the  cycloidal  curves  to  their  evolutes,  and 
of  some  of  the  principal  theorems  concerning  conic  sections  and  the 
catenary  curve.  The  value  of  this  knowledge  to  these  children  will 
be  manifold.  It  has  already  aiforded  to  each  of  them  an  excellent 
culture  of  the  power  of  clear  and  definite  conception  ;  it  has  enlarged 
their  sphere  of  thought,  and  linked  the  highest  mathematical  truth 
with  their  playthings,  —  the  hoop,  the  swing,  the  jumping-rope,  and 
the  ball ;  it  has  made  them  partakers  in  the  fruit  gathered  by  the 
highest  spirits  of  our  race.  This  clearness  and  precision  of  observa 
tion  and  of  conception  will  be  of  use  in  every  occupation  of  life,  and 
render  their  testimony  and  their  judgment  of  more  value  to  them- 


THE  TEUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  215 

selves  and  to  other  men ;  even  the  powers  of  the  eye  and  of  thu  hand 
will  be  more  likely  to  receive  an  accurate  self-culture,  for  use  in  the 
mechanic  arts,  from  this  imposed  culture  of  the  geometrical  imagina 
tion.  And  if  there  be,  among  the  children  thus  early  furnished  with 
the  germs  of  this  science,  any  scholar  whose  natural  gifts  peculiarly 
fit  him  to  advance  its  progress,  or  to  use  to  advantage  the  higher 
mathematics,  there  is  nothing  which  could  more  surely  lead  him  to 
application  than  to  give  him  the  curious  and  interesting  results  which 
have  been  attained  by  the  application  of  others.  As  the  imagination 
is  stimulated  to  action  by  the  visible  forms  of  nature,  so  is  the  reason 
stimulated  to  action  by  the  creations  of  the  imagination.  The  sight 
of  a  hanging  chain,  for  example,  stimulates  the  imagination  to  con 
ceive  of  the  curve  line  formed  by  a  chain  of  infinitely  small  links. 
This  conception  arouses  the  logical  powers  to  inquire  into  the  relations 
of  the  parts  of  such  a  curve  to  each  other.  A  boy  of  ten  years  old, 
playing  with  a  chain  fence,  may  be  taught,  and  may,  by  his  muscular 
power,  roughly  test  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  that  the  horizontal 
tension  $f  a  chain  is  equal  to  the  weight  of  a  piece  of  chain  equal  in 
length  to  the  radius  of  curvature  of  the  lowest  point  of  the  curve  ; 
and  may  easily  draw  the  corollary  that  no  amount  of  power  can  draw 
a  flexible  thread  horizontally,  perfectly,  straight.  The  marvellous- 
ness  of  this  corollary  will  fix  the  theorem  ineradicably  in  his  remem 
brance  ;  and,  if  he  be  a  boy  of  mathematical  power,  he  will,  years 
afterwards,  when  he  takes  up  the  demonstrations  of  geometry,  wish 
to  know  the  proof  of  the  proposition.  But  he  will  find  that  simple 
geometry  is  not  enough.  He  takes  up  algebra,  and  applies  it  to 
geometry,  but  the  theorem  is  still  too  difficult ;  he  adds  the  resources 
of  trigonometry,  but  is  no  nearer  the  proof  that  he  desires.  He 
enters  college,  and  learns  the  marvellous  uses  of  Descartes'  coordi 
nates,  but  this  simple  problem  is  beyond  the  reach  of  their  magic. 
Finally,  his  curiosity,  aroused  so  many  years  before,  is  gratified  when 
in  his  senior  year  he  has  learned  something  of  Leibnitz  and  Newton's 
Calculus,  and  something  of  the  Analytical  Mechanics  of  Lagrange, 
and  takes  up  the  discussion  of  the  catenary  curve.  Nor  does  the 
student  who  has  early  learned  such  truths  come  to  these  studies  under 
the  same  disadvantages  as  ordinary  scholars.  The  young  men  of  oui 
colleges,  when  entering  on  the  study  of  the  higher  curves,  have  a  two 
fold  difficulty,  that  of  mastering  the  conception  of  the  curves,  and 
that  of  mastering  the  use  of  the  analytical  instrument  by  which 
they  are  investigated.  But  when  the  student  has  already  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  curve,  and  an  ease  in  producing  geometrical  pictures 


OK}  THE    TRUE    OUDER    OF    STUDIES. 

before  his  fancy,  he  can  bend  his  whole  force  upon  the  mastery  of  th« 
analytical  instrument.  f 

At  the  same  time  that  the  child  is  expanding  his  powers  of  geomet- 
rica]  conception,  —  that  is,  from  the  age  of  six  or  eight  to  that  of  eleven 
or  twelve,  according  to  his  ability,  —  he  should  also  be  gaining  simple 
ideas  of  numbers.  And,  in  doing  this,  he  should  follow  the  order  of 
nature,  and  begin  with  concrete  numbers,  such  as  beans,  corn,  balls, 
or  counters.  Beans  are,  on  the  whole,  the  cheapest  and  cleanest. 
They  should  not  be  employed  in  a  niggardly  way.  Let  the  child 
see  heaps  of  ten,  heaps  of  a  hundred,  and  heaps  of  a  thousand.  He 
should  not  be  accustomed  to  use  the  names  of  numbers  in  counting, 
without  gaining  by  sight  a  just  conception  of  their  meaning,  which 
he  cannot  do  from  the  petty  number  of  balls  upon  an  ordinary  abacus. 
Not  that  the  pupil  is  to  be  principally  occupied  with  large  numbers. 
On  the  contrary,  he  will  find  in  numbers  under  thirty  occupation  for 
many  a  series  of  most  interesting  and  instructive  experiments  with 
beans.  Give  him,  for  instance,  29  beans,  and  bid  him  divide  them 
into  any  number  of  equal  heaps  that  he  can.  When  he  has  found 
that  his  task  is  impossible,  take  away  one  bean,  and  let  him  find  that 
28  may  be  divided  either  in  four  sevens  or  seven  fours.  Then  add 
two,  and  let  him  discover  that  30  may  be  divided  into  six  fives  or 
five  sixes  ;  two  fifteens  or  fifteen  twos ;  two  groups  of  three  fives,  or 
two  groups  of  five  threes  ;  three  groups  of  five  twos,  or  three  groups 
of  two  fives,  and  so  on.  Thus  alone  can  a  clear  knowledge  be  given 
of  the  actual  difference  between  a  prime  and  a  composite  number. 
Nor  is  this  the  simplest  example.  Begin  with  two  beans,  —  teach  the 
child  to  recognize  it  as  a  couple,  as  two,  in  whatever  position.  Add 
one,  —  teach  him  to  recognize  it  as  a  triplet,  as  three,  in  whatever 
position.  Show  him  that  2  +  1  =  3,  and  3  —  1=2,  3—2  =  1. 
Add  another  bean.  Show  him  it  can  be  divided  into  two  couples. 
Show  him  that  3  +  1  =  4,  2  +  2  =  4,  4-1  =  3,  4-2  =  2, 
2x2=4.  Add  another  bean  ;  it  is  no  longer  divisible  into  equal 
parts ;  drill  him  on  recognizing  five  as  a  quintette,  —  as  five,  in  what 
ever  position  they  are  placed,  and  on  the  addition  and  subtraction  of 
its  parts.  Take  up  six,  —  lead  him  to  divide  it  into  three  couples,  or 
into  two  triplets.  Explain  by  the  beans  the  two  meanings  of  dividing 
six  by  three,  —  that  is,  of  either  separating  it  into  three  equal  parts,  or 
of  separating  it  into  equal  parts  each  of  which  consists  of  three. 
Show  the  identity  of  3  X  2  and  2x3,  each  equalling  6.  Proceed 
in  this  way  with  all  the  numbers,  and  you  will  find  many  months 
pass  before  the  pupil  will  recognize  a  dozen  as  a  dozen,  at  a  glance, 
and  before  he  will  unravel  the  various  combinations  of  groups,  simi- 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  217 

larly  constituted,  into  which  24  beans  may  be  arranged,  such,  for 
instance,  as  two  groups,  each  of  three  couples  of  twos. 

The  teacher  of  the  common  school  may  object  that  he  has  no  time 
for  such  an  exercise.  He  should  then  make  it,  by  omitting  the  more 
difficult  arid  abstract  studies  to  which  a  pupil  of  this  age  is  sometimes 
condemned.  The  quickness  of  perception  given  by  the  exercise  of 
counting  small  parcels  of  beans,  under  twenty,  at  a  glance,  is  more  val 
uable  to  a  child  of  that  age  than  the  intellectual  discipline  of  mental 
arithmetic.  In  nearly  every  school  of  New  England  a  disproportionate 
amount  of  time  is  given  to  arithmetic.  The  science  is  taught  back 
ward,  beginning  with  reasoning  instead  of  with  observation,  and  is 
hampered  also  with  factitious  difficulties  produced  by  a  variety  of 
unessential  names  and  processes. 

When,  by  means  of  the  beans,  the  idea  of  numbers  has  been  made 
familiar  as  well  as  their  names,  the  pupil  should  take  up  written 
arithmetic ;  this  may,  perhaps,  be  at  the  age  of  eight  or  ten.  The 
decimal  notation  is  to  be  taught,  and  by  means  of  a  thousand  or 
so  of  beans  rendered  intelligible  and  impressive.  For  decimal  frac 
tions,  which  should  be  taught  (as  in  Pliny  E.  Chase's  treatise)  at  the 
commencement  of  exercises  on  the  slate,  break  up  two  or  three  dry 
beans  into  small  pieces,  from  which  select  ten  that  are  nearly  one 
tenth  each,  and  also  some  of  the  finer  powder,  which  may  represent 
hundredths.  When  the  pupil  thus  perceives  that  the  decimal  scale  is 
capable  of  representing  the  infinitesimal  as  well  as  the  infinite,  let 
him  also  be  made  familiar  with  the  fact  that  the  unit  is  in  general 
an  arbitrary  standard,  and  that  the  same  quantity  of  beans  may, 
by  removing  the  decimal  point,  be  represented  as  so  many  tens,  or 
hundreds,  tenths,  or  hundredths. 

After  the  pupil  has  made  himself  complete  master  of  the  four 
fundamental  rules  (including  long  division,  in  decimals),  and  of  the 
principal  characteristics  of  prime  and  composite  numbers,  let  him 
take  up  mental  arithmetic,  and  be  kept  at  it  until  he  is  complete 
master  of  Warren  Colburri's  first  lessons.  This  may  not,  however,  be 
accomplished  before  he  has,  at  the  same  time,  made  himself  a  profi 
cient  in  all  the  ordinary  operations  of  arithmetic.  In  the  choice  of 
a  treatise  upon  this  science,  we  have  given  a  decided  preference  to 
Pliny  E.  Chase's  over  all  others,  because  of  its  simplicity,  and  because 
of  the  immense  number  of  its  examples,  —  which  two  qualities  render 
the  learner  expert  in  figures  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  is  usually 
given  to  this  study.  The  whole  subject  is  usually  introduced  to  the 
child's  mind  too  early,  and  he  is  kept  at  it  to  too  late  a  period  in  his 
education. 


213  TUE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES. 

By  the  time  that  the  pupil  has  mastered  his  ordinary  arithmetic 
he  will  be  ready  to  return  to  geometry,  and  take  a  simple  course  of 
instruction  in  geometrical  demonstrations,  and  in  the  application  of 
geometry  to  practical  use.  The  great  master  of  antiquity  has  left 
in  his  "  Elements"  a  model  of  the  reasoning  art,  but  it  is  not  in  a 
form  best  calculated  for  young  minds.  The  process  of  analysis 
naturally  precedes  synthesis,  and  must  necessarily  precede  it  in  the 
mind  of  one  who  would  demonstrate  a  new  proposition ;  hence,  a  text 
book  ought  to  give  more  examples  of  analysis  than  of  synthesis. 
Moreover,  the  object  of  a  geometrical  demonstration  is  not  simply  to 
prove  the  theorem  demonstrated,  but  also  to  impart  to  the  pupil  the 
power  of  demonstration  ;  for  which  reason  a  text-book  ought  to  be 
interspersed  abundantly  with  undemonstrated  propositions  and  un 
solved  problems,  as  is  the  case  in  works  on  arithmetic  and  algebra. 
If  no  such  text-book  is  readily  accessible,  the  teacher  should  select, 
from  books  not  in  the  scholar's  hands,  theorems  allied  to  those  which 
the  scholar  is  studying,  and  propose  their  solution  as  an  exercise  for 
the  class. 

When  the  pupil  has  made  some  progress  in  geometrical  demonstra 
tions,  say  zit  the  age  of  thirteen  to  fifteen,  he  should  be  taught  the  use 
of  logarithms.  Only  a  few  weeks'  practice  will  be  required  to  give 
him  ease  and  rapidity  in  the  use  of  this  "  wonderful  rule,"  this  mar 
vellous  "  new  instrument  "  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Logarithmic 
tables,  while  in  all  the  more  difficult  calculations  of  astronomy,  geol 
ogy,  and  civil  engineering,  they  are  an  indispensable  aid,  are  very 
seldom  resorted  to  in  other  ca.-es  where  arithmetical  results  are 
required.  Yet,  as  there  is  nothing  whatever  difficult  in  their  practi 
cal  application,  and  a  facility  in  using  them  once  acquired  is  not 
easily  lost,  there  seems  no  reason  why  they  should  not  be  found  in 
every  counting-room,  and  used  as  occasion  requires. 

The  scholar  should  also  at  this  age  begin  to  acquaint  himself  with 
algebra.  With  the  mathematical  preparation  which  we  have  now 
recommended,  the  ordinary  processes  of  algebra  will  present  few 
difficulties;  and  in  one  or  two  years  the  scholar  will  find  the  solu 
tion  of  equations  of  the  first  and  second  degree,  and  approximation  to 
higher  roots,  by  means  of  derivatives,  a  familiar  and  easy  task. 

A  short  and  simple  course  of  trigonometry,  and  a  very  elementary 
course  of  perspective,  and  of  descriptive  geometry  in  general,  will 
finish  a  high-school  course  of  mathematics. 

The  college  course  will  vary  dccording  as  the  system  of  instruction 
embraces  or  omits  voluntary  studies.  Our  whole  scheme  of  instruc 
tion,  as  exhibited  in  the  tabular  view  (pp.  188-9  of  this  Journal),  is 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 


219 


based  upon  the  idea  that  every  human  being  needs  education  in  the 
five  branches  of  the  hierarchy,  and  in  each  of  the  great  divisions  of 
that  branch.  The  amount  of  study  in  each  branch  will  depend  in  part 
upon  the  capacity  of  the  scholar.  We  have  endeavored  to  lay  down 
a  scheme  extended  enough  to  satisfy  all  except  rare  instances  of 
extraordinary  talent,  and  yet  simple  enough  to  be  within  reach  of 
a  fair  proportion  of  our  children.  From  our  observation  of  the  public 
schools  of  our  own  town,  we  should  say  that  twelve  or  fifteen  per 
cent,  of  the  children  in  New  England  can,  without  any  over-exertion, 
go  through  all  that  we  have  here  laid  down. 

In  the  tabular  view  given  in  our  former  article,  we  have  placed  the 
rhythm  of  verse  and  music  among  the  early  incidental  studies  of 
algebra.  The  connection  between  algebra  and  the  science  of  time  is 
not  so  obvious  as  that  between  geometry  and  the  science  of  space,  and 
this  is  not  the  place  to  introduce  any  discussion  of  the  reality  of  the 
connection.  But  it  is  the  opinion  of  some  of  the  highest  mathematical 
authorities  of  our  day,  that  even  the  idea  of  number  involves  obscurely 
•the  idea  of  time  as  well  as  of  space;  and  that  the  laws  of  algebra  are 
primarily  the  laws  of  progression  in  time,  —  that  they  are  rather 
illustrated  than  fulfilled  by  geometrical  forms.  If  this  be  so,  the 
cultivation  of  an  ear  for  rhythm,  the  custom  of  beating  time  to 
music,  and  of  attending  to  the  balancing  of  musical  phrases,  will 
facilitate  the  subsequent  conception  of  equations  and  of  their  trans 
formations,  as  surely  as  the  attention  to  forms,  and  the  attempt 
to  draw  outlines,  will  facilitate  the  subsequent  study  of  geometry. 
It  may  be  objected  to  this  statement,  that  the  best  draughtsmen  are 
sometimes  notoriously  deficient  in  mathematical  power  —  the  best  musi 
cians  notoriously  ignorant  of  algebra.  It  must  be  conceded  that  space 
and  time  seem  capable  of  being  approached  and  handled  from  entirely 
opposite  points  of  view,  and  that  art  and  science  flow,  as  it  were, 
from  opposite  poles  of  the  mental  battery.  But  we  are  persuaded 
that  there  is  not  a  real  antagonism  between  them,  and  that  the  appar 
ent  conflict  comes  merely  from  the  limited  capacity  of  the  human 
mind,  in  which  close  attention  to  one  mode  of  viewing  an  object 
usually  excludes  all  other  modes.  In  souls  of  a  larger  growth  there 
is  found  to  be  no  incompatibility,  and  Art  and  Science  are  helpers 
of  each  other ;  Geometry  and  Optics  justifying  and  sustaining  Sculp 
ture  and  Painting,  and  they  in  turn  giving  new  interest  and  delight 
to  those  sciences ;  while  Music  and  Poetry  hold  a  similar,  although 
more  obscure,  relation  to  Algebra. 

We  have  treated  of  the  mathematics,  in  the  present  article,  as 
though  they  were  isolated  subjects;  but  the  remarks  which  we  have 


220  TUE   TRUE   ORDER   OF   STUDIES. 

made  concerning  their  relation  to  art  warn  us  that  we  must  never 
forget  the  intimate  blending  of  all  themes  of  thought  into  one  great 
universe  of  truth.  The  five  branches  of  the  hierarchy  are  all  indis 
pensable,  and  are  all  so  interwoven  that  one  is  well  taught  only  as  it 
is  perceived  to  lie  in  harmonious  connection  with  the  others.  For 
this  reason  the  teacher  of  mathematics  should  be  prepared,  during  the 
whole  of  the  course  of  instruction,  to  point  out  to  the  pupil  the  bonds 
that  link  his  subject  with  the  physical  world,  with  the  laws  of  astron 
omy,  chemistry,  botany,  and  zoology;  with  the  history  of  man,  of  his 
speculation,  and  of  his  action,  with  mechanical  inventions,  with  art 
and  with  commerce ;  with  the  nature  of  man,  capuJble  of  apprehend 
ing  the  mathematical  thoughts  that  have  guided  the  Creator  of  the 
world  in  the  formation  of  all  things;  with  the  nature  of  that  Being 
who  has  made  all  contained  in  space,  or  evolved  in  time,  and  subjected 
them  to  laws  which  are  a  source  of  such  instructive  and  delightful 
investigation  for  his  children  to  pursue,  and  which,  in  the  forms  and 
appearances  they  produce,  awaken  also  such  manifold  sources  of  pleas 
ure  in  the  beauty  and  harmony  of  His  works. 

The  principal  views  which  we  have  endeavored  to  present  in  this 
article  may  be  summed  up  in  three  sentences  :  that  geometry  should 
precede  arithmetic  in  the  training  of  a  child's  mathematical  powers, — 
that  in  each  of  these  two  studies  concrete  forms  should  precede  ab 
stract  language,  observation  and  conception  precede  reasoning,  —  and 
that  the  cultivation  of  the  power  of  definite  conception  by  geometry 
is  as  truly  valuable  as  the  cultivation  of  the  logical  power.  We  can 
not  agree  with  the  opinion  that  arithmetic  is  of  more  practical 
utility  than  geometry ;  yet,  if  we  were  of  that  opinion,  we  should 
still  teach  our  children  geometry  first,  arithmetic  afterwards.  For  a 
change  of  occupation  is  a  rest,  and  the  boy,  who  begins  with  geometry 
and  reserves  arithmetic  to  a  later  period,  develops  his  powers  in  a 
more  natural  order,  achieves  his  task  with  less  fatigue,  and,  at  the  age 
of  fifteen,  not  only  knows  more  of  other  things,  but  more  of  arith 
metic  also,  than  he  could  have  known,  had  his  taste  for  numerical 
computations  been  destroyed  by  a  premature,  and  too  continuous 
application  to  that  science. 

In  our  next  article  we  propose  to  consider  the  proper  mode  of 
introducing  the  young  to  Natural  History. 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES. 

(THIRD  ARTICLE.) 

BY    REV.    THOMAS   HILL, 

Waltham,  Mass. 


To  the  second  great  division  in  the  hierarchy  of  science  we  have 
given  the  name  of  Natural  History.  The  word  Physics  might  also 
have  been  used,  but,  in  either  case,  the  meaning  of  the  term  is  to  be 
so  far  extended  as  to  include  all  the  studies  of  the  material  world  in 
its  natural  state.  Inasmuch  as  matter  is  formed  and  governed  in 
subjection  to  the  laws  of  space  and  time,  this  study  of  the  material 
world  logically  demands  a  previous  knowledge  of  mathematics  ;  and 
no  natural  phenomenon  is  understood  until  the  geometrical  or  alge 
braical  law,  suggested  and  exemplified  by  it,  has  been,  at  least  par 
tially,  comprehended.  In  proportion  as  the  scholar's  knowledge  of 
mathematics  is  enlarged,  his  power  of  comprehending  the  physical 
universe  is  increased.  And,  inasmuch  as  a  knowledge  of  geometry 
is  the  earliest  mathematical  acquirement,  those  parts  of  natural  his 
tory  which  depend  upon  the  perception  of  forms  may  be  earlier 
acquired  than  those  which  depend  on  mechanical,  chemical,  or  physi 
ological  considerations. 

Thus,  although  the  fundamental  principle  of  our  classification 
places  mechanics  before  chemistry,  and  chemistry  before  biology,  our 
fundamental  principles  of  education  allow,  and  require,  some  instruc 
tion  in  botany  and  zoology  before  any  is  given  in  chemistry  or 
mechanics. 

A  perfect  knowledge  of  animals  requires  a  knowledge  of  the  vege 
table  world,  which  is  their  food ;  a  perfect  knowledge  of  plants 
requires  a  knowledge  of  their  chemical  constituents,  and  of  their 
chemical  relation  to  the  soil  and  to  the  air ;  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
chemistry  requires  a  knowledge  of  mechanical  forces.  Thus,  in  the 
hierarchy,  mechanics  is  the  first  department  of  Natural  History.  But 
we  must,  of  course,  be  understood  as  now  giving  to  the  word  mechan 
ics  a  much  wider  signification  than  usual.  We  are  including  the  con 
sideration  of  all  those  phenomena  of  nature  that  arise  from  mechanical 
laws,  that  is,  from  forces  whose  prime  effects  have  been  shown  to  depend 
on  motion.  A  discussion  of  the  boundary  between  mechanics  and 
chemistry,  showing,  for  example,  why  we  place  color  under  mechanics, 


222  THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES. 

and  taste  under  chemistry,  although  interesting  in  a  metaphysical 
view,  and  necessary  for  a  clear  understanding  of  the  philosophy  of 
our  subject,  will  not  be  required  in  a  purely  practical  consideration 
of  the  course  of  studies,  such  as  we  arc  now  engaged  upon. 

There  have  lately  been  published  several  treatises  on  the  philosophy 
of  common  things,  some  of  which,  although  crowded  with  errors  and 
puerilities,  have  a  very  extensive  circulation.  Others,  free  from  these 
faults,  are  defective  from  their  not  containing  the  most  fruitful  facts 
and  principles  of  mechanics.  It  is  not  surprising  that  text-books  on 
these  subjects  should  be  grossly  deficient,  when  we  recollect  that  in 
geometry  and  arithmetic,  the  oldest  and  simplest  sciences,  it  has  been 
very  difficult  to  find  perfectly  unexceptionable  treatises,  and  still  more 
difficult  to  find  teachers  who  will  use  the  best  books  in  the  best 
manner.  We  trust  that,  through  the  increasing  attention  now  given  to 
education,  and  especially  through  the  influence  of  normal  school?,  rec 
ognizing  teaching  as  a  distinct  and  high  profession,  we  may  hereafter 
have  better  text-books  upon  all  subjects,  and  also  teachers  capable  of 
teaching  in  the  best  way,  even  if  the  manuals  for  instruction  should 
be  imperfect.  In  all  departments  of  Natural  History  the  best  text 
books  are  the  objects  themselves  of  which  you  would  teach. 

The  earliest  instruction  of  a  child  in  the  direct  principles  of 
mechanics  should  begin,  we  think,  at  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  years, 
and  at  first  be  incidental,  that  is,  founded  on  the  occurrences  of  the 
moment.  In  his  use  of  little  bricks  for  building,  for  example,  he  will 
have  practical  lessons,  from  which  the  teacher  may  deduce  and  render 
clear  to  the  pupil  some  of  the  principal  properties  of  the  centre  of 
gravity,  and  of  the  states  of  stable  and  unstable  equilibrium.  In 
playing  with  marbles  and  balls,  opportunities  occur  for  showing  dis 
tinctly  to  a  child  the  law  of  the  composition  of  forces,  the  accelerat 
ing  effect  of  a  constantly  acting  force,  the  increase  of  momentum  by 
the  increase  of  velocity,  and  the  like.  The  laws  of  elasticity  also, 
and  of  the  reflection  of  motion,  may  be  exemplified  in  the  rebounding 
of  bulls,  the  return  of  echoes,  and  the  use  of  mirrors.  Of  course,  it 
will  be  worse  than  useless  to  give  to  the  child  simply  stereotyped 
phrases,  or  vague  and  indistinct  ideas,  such  as  are  too  often  found  in 
popular  text-books ;  but,  if  the  teacher  has  himself  clear  ideas  on 
these  subjects,  he  will  find  the  child  eight  or  ten  years  old  ready  to 
receive  them.  Even  the  principal  laws  of  optics,  of  acoustics  and 
thermotic.s,  may  be  thus  incidentally  taught.  The  optical  toys,  which 
are  in  almost  every  household,  musical  instruments,  burning-glasses, 
and  the  phenomena  of  dew,  rain,  frost,  and  snow,  will  give  the  needed 
opportunities.  Only  let  the  caution  be  continually  borne  Hi  inina 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  223 

that  it  is  much  better  to  confess  to  a  child  your  own  ignorance  of  a 
subject,  than  to  attempt  to  give  an  answer  to  his  questions  while 
your  own  views  are  ill-defined  and  unsatisfactory. 

One  of  the  earliest  studies,  commencing,  perhaps,  at  the  age  of 
seven  years,  should  be  geography.  Let  it  be  taught,  at  first,  by  the 
aid  of  a  globe,  without  reference  to  maps.  The  immense  magnitude 
of  the  earth  will  be  apprehended  by  the  child  only  when,  in  later 
years,  he  has  travelled  distances  that  have  an  appreciable  ratio  to  the 
earth's  circumference.  At  first  he  must  be  content  with  understand 
ing  accurately  its  form  and  motions.  In  describing  these,  the  teacher 
should  be  careful  to  use  the  globe  only  as  an  illustration,  not  as 
though  it  were  the  thing  of  which  he  is  speaking,  else  the  child  will 
never  transfer  his  conceptions  from  the  globe  to  the  earth.  In  the 
course  of  thirteen  years'  service  upon  a  school  committee  we  have 
never  found  a  teacher  who  gave  to  the  scholars  a  clear  conception  of 
the  physical  boundaries  between  the  five  zones,  and  but  few  who  even 
attempted  it.  The  differences  of  climate  and  the  number  of  degrees 
of  extent  are  taught,  but  the  child  does  not  know  what  appearances  of 
the  heavenly  bodies  decide  the  position  of  the  tropics  and  polar 
circles.  Nor  do  we  find  that  scholars  in  general  gain  any  clear  con 
ception  of  the  actual  direction  of  places.  Their  views,  being  derived 
from  maps,  are  necessarily  erroneous.  From  one  of  the  Holbrook 
Co.'s  globes  a  child  can  readily  be  made  to  see  that  a  straight  line 
from  one  point  on  the  globe  to  another,  would  always  go  through  a 
portion  of  the  earth,  so  that  to  point  directly  towards  any  distant 
place  he  must  always  point  more  or  less  downward. 

The  following  extract  from  the  instructions  of  the  school  committee 
in  Waltham  to  the  teachers  of  the  sub-primary  schools  will  serve  as 
an  example  of  the  mode  of  teaching  geography  :  "  Begin  with  the 
globe ;  set  it  where  the  sun  may  shine  upon  it ;  bring  Waltham  to 
the  top,  and  make  the  north  pole  point  to  the  north.  Lay  a  marble 
on  the  top  of  the  globe,  and  show  them  that  the  light  and  shadow  on 
the  marble  and  on  the  globe  are  similarly  situated.  Explain  the 
roundness  of  the  earth  ;  that  it  is  only  a  bigger  globe,  under  the  little 
globe,  as  that  is  under  the  marble  ;  and  that  the  light  and  shade  fall 
on  it  as  they  do  on  the  globe  and  marble,  making  night  in  the 
shadow,  day  in  the  sunshine.  Give  them  vivid  conceptions  of  the 
sixe  of  the  earth,  by  showing  them  how  small  upon  the  globe  would  be 
the  landscape  visible  from  Prospect  Hill;  how  near  to  the  point 
which  represents  Waltham  would  be  the  point  representing  the  distant 
Monadnoc.  Show  them  in  what  countries  the  sun  is  then  rising,  and 
in  what  setting,  and  where  it  is  vertical,  by  simple  reference  to  the 


224  TIIK    TIIUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

light  and  shadow  on  the  globe ;  and,  after  an  hour's  attention  to  other 
studies  or  amusements,  return  to  the  globe,  and  show  them  how  the 
light  has  travelled  round.  Show  them,  according  to  the  season  of 
the  year,  whether  the  north  or  south  pole  remains  in  light  or  shadow 
all  the  day.  llepeat  this  lesson  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  but  espe 
cially  do  not  forget  it  at  the  equinoxes  and  solstices.  Explain  how 
reflection  from  the  globe  diminishes  the  intensity  of  the  shadow  on  the 
marble,  and  the  reflection  from  the  window-seat  partially  enlightens 
the  under  side  of  the  globe,  while  there  is  no  window-seat  under  the 
earth  to  reflect  light  upon  China  and  New  Holland.  Make  the 
amount  of  reflection  from  the  window-seat  more  apparent  to  them  by 
covering  it  alternately  with  a  black  veil  and  a  white  handkerchief.  In 
like  manner,  although  the  globe  will,  after  sunset,  be  in  the  shadow  of 
the  earth,  there  is  no  larger  body  below  the  earth  to  cast  a  shadow  on 
our  antipodes. 

"  Take  your  children  occasionally  to  walk ;  go  on  the  hills ;  show 
them  how  the  presence  of  a  brook  or  river  can  be  foretold  from  the 
extent  of  the  valley,  the  nature  of  the  soil,  and  the  kind  of  vegeta 
tions,  whether  forests  or  grass ;  show  them  the  roundness  of  the 
earth  from  the  increasing  dip  of  the  horizon,  as  you  ascend  ;  make 
them  perceive  how  beautiful  the  illusion  by  which  we  always  exag 
gerate  vertical  heights  and  under-estimate  horizontal  distances ;  call 
their  attention  to  the  differences  in  soils,  and  in  the  rocks,  and  point 
out  the  effects  of  soil  and  of  location  upon  vegetation." 

The  earliest  lessons  in  astronomy  may  be  given  at  a  very  tender 
age.  As  by  the  globe  in  the  sunshine  the  best  illustration  of  day  and 
night  can  be  given,  so  the  idea  of  the  moon  and  her  motions  is  best 
communicated  by  procuring  a  ball  a  little  over  one  quarter  the  diam 
eter  of  the  globe,  and  holding  it  about  one  hundred  and  ten  times  its 
own  diameter  from  the  globe.  If  now  the  moon  is  visible  when  the 
sun  is  shining,  let  the  pupil  lay  the  side  of  his  head  upon  the  globe, 
while  the  teacher  holds  the  ball  at  the  proper  distance,  in  such  a  posi 
tion  that,  to  the  child,  it  shall  appear  to  be  just  over  the  moon.  The 
sunshine  upon  the  ball  will  appear  to  him  to  be  of  the  same  size  and 
shape  as  the  visible  part  of  the  moon.  The  endeavor  in  astronomy, 
as  in  geography,  should  be  to  lead  the  child's  mind  away  from  the 
illustration  to  the  thing  illustrated.  For  this  reason  it  will  be  with 
difficulty  that  the  school-teacher  can  go  in  astronomy  to  any  advan 
tage  beyond  the  relations  of  the  sun,  earth,  and  moon.  In  order  to 
give  clear  conceptions  concerning  the  planets,  stars,  and  nebulae,  the 
teacher  must  meet  the  pupils  in  the  evening,  when  those  bodies  aro 
visible.  But  it  is  of  so  much  importance  that  the  child  should  have 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  225 

curly  a  distinct  conception  of  the  relations  of  the  solar  system  that 
few  teachers  would  be  unwilling  to  perform  this  extra  labor.  Astron 
omy  and  geography  are  to  be  used  as  the  most  powerful  of  all  studies 
to  develop  the  imagination ;  that  is,  the  ability  to  conceive  clearly  and 
distinctly  unseen  phenomena. 

Chemical  relations  are  more  abstruse  than  mechanical.  It  requires 
some  maturity  of  mind  in  order  to  distinguish  chemical  compounds 
from  mechanical  mixtures ;  and  yet,  at  the  age  of  nine  or  ten  years, 
the  simplest  phenomena  of  chemical  change  begin  to  excite  the  child's 
curiosity ;  and  it  will  be  greatly  to  his  advantage  if  that  curiosity  is 
gratified  with  correct  explanations  and  sound  principles,  instead  of 
being  lulled  by  a  plausible  pretence  of  explanation.  Oxidation,  es 
pecially  in  the  forms  of  combustion  and  rust,  is  the  most  prominent 
instance  of  chemical  metamorphosis,  and  will  afford  to  the  skilful 
teacher  the  opportunity  of  giving,  in  what  we  have  called  an  incidental 
way,  many  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  chemical  affinity,  atomic 
proportion,  atomic  combinations,  the  stability  or  instability  of  chem 
ical  equilibrium,  and  so  on.  We  acknowledge  that  this  implies  a  large 
amount  of  intellectual  life  in  the  teacher ;  but  one  who  is  intrusted 
with  the  direction  of  these  earliest  movements  of  the  expanding  mind 
should  be  a  person  not  only  of  some  acquirements,  but  of  some  intel 
lectual  vivacity.  Nothing  more  surely  characterizes  a  skilful  teacher 
than  the  ability  to  seize  upon  the  right  moment  and  the  right  occa 
sion  for  illustrating  the  principles  which  he  wishes  to  impart.  One 
perpetual  danger,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  attends  these  essays  to 
give  the  first  instruction  to  a  child  —  the  danger  of  extinguishing  its 
natural  thirst  for  knowledge.  This  may  be  done  by  diverting  the  at 
tention  to  other  themes,  by  discouraging  or  disgusting  the  mind  with 
difficulties,  or  by  communicating  knowledge  in  such  a  way  as  to  puff 
up  the  child  with  the  conceit  that  he  now  understands  the  whole 
science  of  which  you  have  given  him  some  of  the  simplest  rudiments. 
The  art  of  giving  instruction  may  be  compared  to  that  of  letter- 
writing,  of  which  it  is  humorously  said  that  the  great  secret  is  to  make 
the  recipient  "  wish  there  was  more  of  it." 

Inasmuch  as  botany,  while  it  depends  in  its  physiology  upon  chem 
istry,  classifies  plants  solely  by  texture  and  form,  a  knowledge  of  the 
common  weeds  and  flowers,  trees,  mosses  and  lichens,  of  the  neighbor 
hood,  may  be  given  to  a  child  as  soon  as  it  is  old  enough  to  distin 
guish  them.  In  the  tabular  view  there  is  an  accidental  "error,  making 
the  incidental  instruction  in  biology  commence  at  a  later  period  than 
we  should  advise.  From  the  day  that  the  child  enters  the  sub-primary 

15 


006  TILB   TRUE    ORDER   OF   8TUDIE3. 

school  we  would  have  it  receive  oral  instruction,  illustrated  by  living 
plants,  if  possible,  or  by  dried  specimens,  or  even  by  drawings,  in 
systematic  botany.  At  first  the  child  may  simply  be  taught  to  recog 
nize  the  plants  as  individuals ;  so  that  he  may  be  able  to  say,  "This 
is  a  twig  of  sugar-maple,  and  this  a  sprig  of  white-birch  ;  here  is  a 
bird-foot  violet,  and  there  a  dandelion."  But  the  plants  must  be 
recognized  out  of  doors,  as  well  as  in  the  house,  that  the  child  may 
early  learn  to  notice  and  enjoy  the  differences  of  form  and  color  iu 
the  general  appearance  of  the  growing  tree  or  plant. 

In  the  first  volume  of  Agassiz'  Contributions  to  the  Natural  His 
tory  of  the  United  States,  he  shows  that  of  the  six  divisions  of  ani 
mals  (branches,  classes,  orders,  families,  genera,  and  species),  the 
family  is  characterized  by  a  resemblance  of  general  form.  There  is, 
doubtless,  a  close  analogy  in  the  principles  of  classification  that  must 
be  adopted  in  botany,  to  those  which  Agassiz  develops  for  zoology. 
As  a  general  rule,  the  plants  which  belong  to  one  family  are  recognized 
by  a  general  resemblance  of  form  in  the  flower,  fruit,  and  seed ;  while, 
to  distinguish  a  genus,  attention  must  be  paid  to  detail ;  and,  in  the 
formation  of  a  class,  attention  must  be  paid  to  organization.  Hence 
the  family,  both  in  botany  and  zoology,  is  the  most  apparent  of  the 
higher  groups  in  classification,  and  the  best  adapted,  by  its  obvious  de 
pendence  upon  form,  to  be  the  starting-point  for  a  child's  comparisons. 
It  is  not  to  be  brought,  as  an  exception  to  this  remark,  that  some  of 
the  great  families  contain  tribes  bearing  no  obvious  resemblance  to 
each  other,  but  rather  should  this  analogy  to  zoology  be  taken  as  an 
evidence  of  the  necessity  for  elevating  some  of  the  sub- families  in 
botany  to  the  rank  of  families. 

The  second  step,  therefore,  in  botanical  instruction  should  be  to  add 
to  the  name  of  the  plant  the  name  of  its  family,  and  a  perception  of 
the  family  likeness  ;  so  that  the  child  can  say,  "  This  is  a  hazel ;  it 
belongs  to  the  oak  family,  and  shows  its  likeness  to  the  oak  in  its 
catkins  of  staminatc  flowers,  and  in  the  involucre  surrounding  the  nut; 
this  is  an  alder,  which  belongs  to  the  birch  family,  and  shows  its  rela 
tion  by  having  both  its  pistillate  and  staminate  flowers  in  scaly  cat 
kins,  having  two  or  three  blossoms  under  each  scale."  Of  course,  tho 
teacher  must  remember  the  caution  which  we  uttered,  in  speaking  of 
chemistry,  and  not  allow  the  child  to  think  that  a  few  words,  such  as 
those  here  given,  can  embody  all  the  points  of  resemblance  which 
characterize  a  family.  Much  less  should  the  child  be  permitted  to 
learn  any  truth  of  this  kind  by  rote.  Verbal  memory  has  an  impor 
tant  [dace  in  a  true  scheme  of  education,  as  we  shall  endeavor  to  show 


THE    TllUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  227 

in  our  next  article.  But  the  very  object  of  introducing  geometry, 
botany,  and  zoology,  into  our  course  of  studies  is  defeated,  when  the 
pupil  is  required  to  commit  the  words  of  the  text-book,  or  formulas 
given  by  the  teacher,  to  memory.  Yet,  so  accustomed  are  some 
teachers  to  this  mode  of  instruction,  so  incapable,  apparently,  of  con 
ceiving  of  any  better  plan,  that  we  have  known  a  teacher  require  her 
pupils  to  repeat  the  words  of  Dr.  Gray's  "  How  Plants  Grow  ;  "  evi 
dently  thinking  that  she  was  thus  using,  while  she  was  abusing,  that 
excellent  little  book. 

The  book  just  named  may  be  taken  up,  as  the  third  step  in  botan 
ical  study,  at  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve  years.  If  deferred  to  a  later 
period  the  study  becomes  distasteful,  as  the  habit  of  observation 
becomes  weaker  from  the  distraction  of  the  mind  by  other  cares. 
It  is  easy  to  give  to  the  child,  during  the  ten  years  between  five 
and  fifteen,  a  perfect  familiarity  with  three  or  four  hundred  species 
of  common  plants,  such  as  he  meets  in  every  walk.  This  labor 
spread  over  so  long  a  series  of  years  would  be  by  no  means  oner 
ous  ;  and  the  names  and  facts  impressed  upon  the  mind  in  that 
tender  period  will  never  be  forgotten.  If  it  be  objected  that  there  is 
no  text-book  prepared  for  the  use  of  children  too  young  to  use  "How 
Plants  Grow,"  we  reply  that  the  plants  themselves  should  be  the  text 
book.  The  only  artificial  help  in  teaching  botany  to  children  in  the 
sub-primary  school,  which,  we  think,  would  prove  really  valuable, 
would  be  a  series  of  thirty  or  forty  charts,  each  containing  the  illus 
trations  of  some  one  important  family,  —  magnified  drawings  of  the 
peculiarities  in  the  organs  of  fructification  characterizing  each  family, 
—  with,  perhaps,  a  drawing  of  a  few  of  the  common  species. 

Zoology  is  not  forced  upon  the  child's  attention  so  frequently  as 
botany  in  the  natural  world.  Yet,  from  the  motion,  and  still  more 
from  the  intelligence,  of  animals,  they  are  even  more  interesting  to  the 
child  than  plants.  Moreover,  although  physiology  demands  a  knowl 
edge  of  chemistry,  yet  the  classification  of  animals,  like  that  of  plants, 
depends  principally  upon  organic  structure,  and  upon  the  relation  of 
the  creatures  to  the  outward  world.  The  child  of  five  years  old  is, 
therefore,  interested  to  notice  the  difference  between  animals,  and  to 
learn  their  names.  In  a  country  school-house,  in  the  month  of  May 
or  June,  it  may  be  that  the  songs  of  thirty  or  forty  different  species 
of  birds  are  heard  in  the  course  of  a  single  day.  It  would  be  no 
waste  of  time,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  thing  of  inestimable  value, 
shQuld  the  teacher  enable  his  pupils  to  distinguish  these  birds  by  their 
song,  learn  their  appearance  and  habits,  and  the  families  into  which 
they  are  grouped.  The  fear  is  sometimes  expressed,  by  our  poets, 


228  T1IE    TRUE    ORDER    OF   STUDIES. 

lest  a  scientific  acquaintance  with  flowers  should  destroy  their  beaaty; 
and  lest  the  song  of  the  bird  might  have  less  melody  when  the  song 
ster  had  been  burdened  with  a  barbarous  Latin  name;  but  among 
our  acquaintance  we  have  not  found  these  fears  realized.  On  the 
contrary,  a  thorough  scientific  acquaintance  with  the  beautiful  objects 
of  nature  only  increases  the  pleasure  which  we  take  in  beholding 
them.  The  syntactical  parsing  and  metrical  analysis  of  an  ode  will 
not  injure  our  appreciation  of  its  melody  and  its  sentiment,  provided 
the  composition  has  true  lyric  merit.  The  beautiful  in  nature  will 
bear  the  closest  criticism,  and  the  longest  i n vest igat ion,  without  ever 
"  palling  upon  the  sense."  "  Nature,"  says  the  Concord  seer,  "  never 
became  a  toy  to  a  wise  spirit."  The  wisdom  and  beauty,  embodied  in 
each  organic  work  of  nature,  is  "not  only  vast,  but  infinite,"  so  that 
there  is  no  possibility  of  exhausting  it. 

The  insects  in  any  given  country  are,  at  least,  as  numerous  as  its 
plants.  The  mysteries  of  insect  transformation,  the  wonderful  me 
chanical  instincts  that  many  of  them  display,  the  brilliancy  of  the 
colors  of  some,  and  the  pertinacity  with  which  others  thrust  them 
selves  upon  our  notice,  render  insects  peculiarly  fitted  to  engage  the 
child's  attention,  and  to  serve  as  a  basis  for  incidental  instruction  in 
zoology.  In  this  class  of  animals  the  orders  are  more  conspicuously 
distinguished  than  the  families ;  and  it  will,  perhaps,  be  best  to  con 
tent  one's  self,  at  first,  with  teaching  the  child  to  refer  insects  to  their 
orders.  Insects  are  so  easily  preserved  in  their  natural  appearance, 
that  we  should  suppose  each  school  might  have  a  small  collection  of 
the  most  common  species  to  be  seen  in  the  neighborhood,  grouped  in 
their  orders  and  families,  to  serve  as  a  reference  for  any  insects  which 
the  child  might  catch  and  bring  in.  We  are  aware  of  the  vastness 
of  the  field  of  zoology,  and  of  the  impossibility  of  a  child  learning  to 
recognize  more  than  a  very  small  proportion  of  the  insects  of  his 
neighborhood.  Yet,  on  account  of  this  very  magnitude,  we  would 
say,  let  his  attention  be  early  directed  to  this  field  ;  so  that,  if  it 
should  prove  to  be  one  in  which  he  is  peculiarly  fitted  to  labor,  he 
may  have  the  advantage  of  an  early  beginning.  We  would  also  re 
peat  the  caution  to  be  exact  in  the  ideas  which  are  given  to  the  pupil. 
The  main  object  in  these  first  scientific  lessons  must  be  to  induce  the 
spirit  of  exact,  patient  observation  ;  calling  the  child's  attention  to 
differences  as  carefully  as  to  likenesses,  and  to  the  fact  that  the  likeness 
in  one  part  does  not  necessarily  imply  a  likeness  in  other  parts.  The 
foliage  of  two  trees  may  be  almost  identical,  while  the  flowers  and 
fruit  are  exceedingly  diverse.  While  this  spirit  of  patient  and  exact 
observation  is  cultivated,  general  principles,  already  discovered  by 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  229 

the  inductive  philosophy,  and  firmly  established,  may  incidentally  be 
placed  before  the  mind  of  the  pupil,  a  clear  guide  to  his  sense  and 
reason. 

Comparative  anatomy  will  thus  be  naturally  begun  at  an  early 
period.  The  homology  of  the  parts  in  vertebrate  animals  with  those 
of  the  child's  own  body  will  naturally  be  the  subject  of  continual  les 
sons,  and  the  difference  between  these  or  the  organs  of  insects  and 
crustaceans  must  also  be  pointed  out.  Human  anatomy  and  physiol 
ogy  have  been  introduced  into  many  of  the  schools  of  New  England 
during  the  last  fifteen  years  with  very  great  zeal ;  they  would  be  much 
more  effective,  more  interesting,  and  more  valuable,  if  they  were  pre 
ceded  by  the  lessons  concerning  which  we  have  now  given  these  brief 
hints.  It  is  against  the  course  of  nature  to  call  the  child's  attention 
too  early  to  the  functions  of  its  own  body.  A  better  result,  intel 
lectually  and  morally,  might  be  attained  if  the  teachers  and  parents 
took  care  of  the  diet  and  exercise  of  the  child,  his  clothing,  and  the 
temperature  and  ventilation  of  the  rooms  in  which  he  sleeps  and 
studies,  until  at  least  the  age  of  thirteen  to  fifteen  years.  The  mind 
would  then  have  been  prepared  by  previous  studies  for  understanding 
the  subject  intellectually,  while  the  greater  development  of  the  observ 
ing  powers  would  prevent  the  danger  of  premature  and  excessive  hab 
its  of  mental  introversion.  The  study  of  our  own  bodies  approaches 
nearer  to  psychology,  forming  a  natural  introduction  to  it,  and  should, 
therefore,  come  last  in  the  studies  of  Natural  History.  The  study  of 
anatomy  and  physiology  naturally  and  inevitably  leads  the  child  to  a 
psychological  investigation  into  the  facts  of  consciousness  involved  in 
the  exercise  of  many  of  the  functions  of  his  own  frame.  In  the  tabu 
lar  view  (vol.  vi.  p.  188)  the  words  Anatomy  and  Physiology  ought  to 
extend  into  the  first  years  of  the  high  school. 

The  importance  of  beginning  botany  and  zoology  in  the  very 
earliest  years  of  school  life,  as  we  intended  to  have  placed  them  in 
our  tabular  view,  cannot  be  fully  estimated  without  taking  into  con 
sideration  also  their  connection  with  the  other  branches  of  education. 
The  habit  of  constant,  attentive  observation,  surely  learned  in  no  other 
way  than  through  early  practice  in  these  sciences,  is  of  immense  value 
in  every  walk  of  practical  or  speculative  life.  The  habits  of  animals, 
and  the  manifestation  of  their  various  gifts  of  instinct  and  intelligence, 
are  the  best  stimulants  and  aids  to  psychological  research,  as  we  intend 
hereafter  to  show.  So,  also,  in  theology,  there  is  nothing  more  cer 
tainly  adapted,  in  a  scheme  of  intellectual  education,  to  foster  rever 
ential  views  of  the  being  and  providence  of  God,  than  to  observe  tne 


230  THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

lilies  of  the  field  how  they  grow,  and  to  consider  how  He  opcneth  hia 
hand  and  satisfieth  the  desire  of  every  living  tiling.  Lut  thi?  con 
sideration  will  be  brought  again  into  notice  when  we  approach  the 
fifth  division  of  our  hierarchy. 

In  their  relation  to  the  mathematical  and  to  the  artistic  culture  of 
the  child  botany  and  zoology  have  also  a  peculiar  value.  Leaves  and 
flowers,  and  insects,  are  admirable  objects,  from  which  the  child  may 
make  his  first  attempt  at  drawing,  —  and  the  forms  of  organic  life 
constitute  the  most  beautiful  of  the  unsolved  problems  which  are  now 
presented  to  the  geometers  of  our  race.  The  pressed  leaves  and 
mounted  insects,  kept  in  the  school-room  as  types  and  standards  for 
botanical  and  zoological  reference,  may  also  be  used  as  drawing-pat 
terns  of  the  highest  excellence.  The  insects  could  not  be  safely  re 
moved  from  the  glass  case  in  which  they  should  be  kept ;  but  the 
pressed  leaves,  as  being  more  easily  replaced,  if  injured,  might  be 
taken  to  the  child's  desk,  or  to  the  blackboard.  Nor  is  it  unworthy 
of  notice  that  the  exercise  of  recognizing  birds  by  their  notes  is  of 
great  value  in  the  cultivation  of  a  quick  and  exact  musical  ear. 

Finally,  among  the  prominent  advantages  of  this  early  introduction 
of  the  studies  of  Natural  History,  must  be  placed  the  fact  that  it  ac 
cords  with  the  child's  tastes,  as  well  as  with  the  natural  order  of  intel 
lectual  development.  All  children  are  pleased  with  crystals,  plants, 
flowers,  insects,  birds,  and  beasts,  and  are  interested  in  intellectual 
and  spiritual  truths  only  when  dressed  in  living  figures.  By  follow 
ing,  therefore,  the  example  of  Nature,  and  speaking  in  parables  to 
those  who  cannot  understand  the  truth  in  other  forms,  we  not  only 
adopt  the  most  successful  mode  of  conveying  the  truth,  but  one  of  the 
most  efficacious  of  all  modes  to  afford  the  child  the  means  of  present 
and  future  happiness. 

Of  the  course  of  instruction  above  the  primary  schools  we  need 
not  particularly  speak,  since  the  general  principles  are  easily  applied 
to  the  whole  course.  We  should  simply  say,  that,  in  proportion  as 
the  pupil's  mind  enlarges,  the  course  of  physics  should  deal  more  with 
general  laws,  and  less  with  the  details  by  which  those  laws  are  estab 
lished.  This  is,  of  course,  on  the  supposition  that  the  education  is 
designed  for  the  general  purposes  of  liberal  culture.  Physics  and 
Natural  History  have  been  unjustly  neglected  in  many  plans  of  edu 
cation  ;  but  it  would,  by  no  means,  restore  the  course  of  study  to  a 
rigKt  balance,  if,  after  introducing  these  sciences  in  their  proper  place 
in  the  earlier  years  of  school  life,  we  should  afterwards  allow  them  to 
expaul  and  fill  the  years  of  the  collegiate  term,  when  the  student 


THE   TRUE   ORDER   OF   STUDIES.  231 

ought  to  be  more  fully  employed  in  political,  psychological,  and  theo 
logical  inquiries.  In  the  grammar  and  high  school,  after  a  proper 
preparation  in  the  younger  grades,  we  can  readily  give  as  much  of  the 
mechanical  sciences  as  it  is  profitable  to  teach  to  those  who  have  no 
special  aptitude  for  the  studies.  With  the  preparation  now  given  in 
the  primary  and  sub-primary  schools,  this  is  impossible ;  and  a  part  of 
the  collegiate  course  is  of  necessity  occupied  in  giving  instruction  in 
the  physical  sciences  better  adapted  to  children  than  to  youth.  The 
preparation  of  such  excellent  text-books  as  Guyot's  Earth  and  Man, 
and  of  Agassiz'  and  Gould's  Zoology,  is  thus  rendered  a  thankless 
work;  these  books  which  are  adapted  for  the  widest  usefulness,  are,  by 
the  insufficient  preparation  of  the  younger  scholars,  confined  to  a  few 
of  the  more  advanced  high  schools  and  academies.  Changes  in  the 
system  of  public  education  are  usually  made  with  difficulty,  and  it  is, 
doubtless,  well  that  it  is  so  ;  since  otherwise  our  schools  would  suffer, 
even  more  than  at  present,  from  the  eccentricities  and  errors  of  those 
who  have  control  over  them.  At  present  the  legal  guardians  of  the 
school,  the  teachers,  the  scholars,  and  the  parents,  constitute  four 
classes,  who  resist  any  change  whether  for  better  or  for  worse.  In 
the  changes  which  we  are,  in  these  papers,  advocating,  the  difficulty 
will  be  still  greater,  from  the  fact  that  the  proposed  alterations  imply 
an  alteration  from  the  very  beginning  of  the  educational  course ;  and 
our  views  concerning  the  high  school  are  perfectly  impracticable,  unless 
the  children  in  the  high  school  have  been  from  infancy  accustomed  to 
exact  observation,  rapid  and  accurate  conception,  and  familiarity  with 
the  results  of  cautious  and  sound  inductive  reasoning.  So  far  from 
this  being  the  case  in  the  ordinary  schools,  that  we  may  more  truly 
say  the  child  is  taught  to  neglect  observation,  to  abstract  his  mind 
from  things  to  books,  to  repeat  words  without  clear  conceptions,  to 
adopt  the  results  of  hasty  and  unsound  speculations.  If  the  reader 
think  this  language  too  strong,  let  him  reflect  that  into  not  one  school 
in  a  thousand  are  crystals,  minerals,  plants,  insects,  &c.,  brought  for 
examination  ;  —  let  him  remember  that  among  the  teachers  not  one  in 
twenty  even  knows  the  difference  between  a  moss  and  a  lichen,  a  bug 
and  a  beetle,  a  moth  and  a  butterfly,  and  not  one  in  fifty  but  would 
reprove  a  child  for  bringing  such  things  into  the  school-room;  —  let  him 
recall  the  fact  that,  in  spelling,  the  child  is  systematically  taught  to 
deny  the  truth  of  his  own  sense  of  hearing ;  so  that,  by  the  age  of 
fifteen,  nine-tenths  of  our  children  have  begun  to  hear,  in  the  spelling 
and  in  the  pronunciation  of  words,  sounds  that  do  not  exist,  and  not 
to  hear  sounds  that  are  distinct ;  —  let  him  remember  that  in  tho 
majority  of  schools  drawing  is  not  taught,  and,  when  taught,  it  is 


232  THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

usually  drawing  from  a  copy,  so  that  it  feebly  exercises  the  observing 
powers,  or  it  is  inventive  drawing,  which  does  not  develop  the  observ 
ing  powers  at  all ;  —  let  him  remember  how  much  time  is  given  to 
arithmetic,  not  to  counting  beans,  arranging  them  in  groups,  &c. ;  but 
to  abstract  arithmetic,  which,  even  in  its  so-called  practical  examples, 
usually  excites  the  conception  only  of  the  names  of  number,  or  of  the 
appearance  of  the  Arabic  notation ;  to  arithmetic,  which  was  intro 
duced  into  primary  schools  only  after  a  long  struggle  against  the 
tyranny  of  grammar,  and  has  now  become  a  King  Stork  more  intol 
erable  than  the  King  Log  ;  —  let  him  remember  that  geography  is  the 
only  science  of  observation  in  our  schools,  and  that  geography  is  often 
a  mere  getting  of  words  by  rote,  and  even  at  best,  in  the  primary 
schools,  only  occupied  with  the  observation  of  maps,  instead  of  the 
observation  of  things;  —  let  him  remember  all  this,  and  he  will,  at 
least,  see  how  poorly  the  primary  and  sub-primary  schools  prepare  the 
child  for  any  scientific  studies  in  the  grammar  and  high  school. 

For  this  reason,  in  all  these  papers,  we  occupy  ourselves  more  espe 
cially  in  indicating  what  we  conceive  to  be  the  true  mode  and  time  of 
beginning  each  study,  and  pass  by  the  studies  of  the  high  school  and 
college ;  not  that  we  take  less  interest  in  the  studies  of  the  more 
advanced  student,  but  because  we  are  convinced  of  the  absolute  neces 
sity  of  beginning  well,  if  we  would  produce  the  highest  educational 
effect.  Each  day's  mental  state  depends,  in  part,  upon  the  previous 
education;  and  we  cannot  say  how  early  this  process  of  education 
begins  to  influence  the  mental  development.  For  our  part,  however, 
we  have  long  held,  what  we  find  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  Comenius 
(Amer.  Journ.  of  jEd.,  vol.  v.,  p.  281),  that  education  begins  before 
birth,  and  is  received  through  the  mental  and  physical  condition  of 
the  mother.  • 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES. 

(FOURTH  ARTICLE.) 

BY   REV.    THOMAS   HILL, 

Waltham,  Mass. 


OUR  third  great  division  of  human  science  includes  all  that  is  his 
torical,  the  record  of  man's  doings  and  sayings ;  and  we  have  indi 
cated,  in  our  tabular  view,  a  rough  subdivision  of  this  group  of 
sciences  into  four  smaller  groups.  The  first  of  these  smaller  groups 
treats  of  man's  use  of  nature  as  commodity ;  that  is,  for  purposes  of 
agriculture,  manufacture,  or  commerce.  The  second  embraces  the 
fine  arts ;  the  third,  language,— the  use  of  speech  or  writing  to  ex 
press  thought.  The  fourth  treats  of  social  life,  custom,  and  law. 
The  reasons  for  this  subdivision,  and  for  the  order  in  which  the 
groups  are  arranged,  will  be  evident  on  a  moment's  thought.  The 
Use  of  the  world  for  our  bodily  needs  is  first  in  the  order  of  time  and 
of  simplicity ;  and  the  earliest  knowledge  that  a  child  has  of  the 
works  of  man,  as  distinguished  from  the  works  of  nature,  consists  in 
knowing  that  man  puts  nature  to  use.  It  is  true,  however,  that  this 
precedence  in  knowledge  is  more  logical  than  chronological,  since  only 
a  few  months  pass  over  a  child's  head  before  it  uses  dolls  and  pict 
ures  as  naturally  as  food  and  clothing ;  showing  how  early  the  artistic 
use  of  nature  is  begun. 

The  invention  and  use  of  language  must  certainly  be  subsequent  to 
the  use  of  material  things ;  and  the  ability  to  communicate  ideas  by 
language  must  precede  any  attempt  at  social  law  or  order. 

Without  historical  knowledge,  a  child  would  grow  up  a  barbarian. 
The  chief  distinction  of  an  educated  man,  or  of  a  civilized  nation, 
consists  in  a  knowledge  of  the  wisdom  gained  through  the  experience 
of  previous  generations.  A  child  is,  however,  usually  suffered  to 
learn  the  history  of  manufactures,  commerce,  and  agriculture,  with 
out  distinct  instruction.  Books  of  trade  and  books  of  commerce  for 
children's  use  have  never  enjoyed  a  wide  popularity,  although  recom 
mended  by  many  of  the  best  writers  on  education.  The  great  obsta 
cle  to  the  teaching  of  any  historical  branch  consists  in  the  multiplicity 
of  details  which  it  involves.  General  principles  are  with  difficulty 
applied  to  bring  the  numerous  facts  connected  with  agriculture,  man 
ufactures,  and  commerce,  into  a  form  adapted  for  the  instruction  of 


234  THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

children.  Much  must  be  done  incidentally,  and  education  in  this 
respect  will  therefore  depend  upon  the  family  as  much  as  upon  the 
school.  A  very  young  child  will  be  interested  and  benefited  by  being 
taught  the  simplest  processes  of  planting  and  sowing,  and  of  tending 
the  growing  plants.  If  in  the  city,  it  may  be  necessary  to  do  this  by 
description ;  if  in  the  country,  it  should  of  course  be  done  experi 
mentally.  Every  one  of  the  articles  in  household  use  should  furnish 
lessons  concerning  the  mode  in  which  the  raw  material  is  rendered 
subservient  to  man's  needs.  The  whole  processes  of  grinding  and 
bolting  wheat;  of  fermenting  and  baking  bread;  of  planting,  tending, 
gathering,  cleaning,  carding,  spinning,  weaving,  bleaching,  dyeing  or 
printing  cotton;  of  tending  sheep;  of  shearing  and  cleansing  wool ; 
of  spinning,  dyeing,  and  weaving  yarn  into  the  various  kinds  of  car 
peting  ;  of  tanning  leather,  and  making  boots  and  shoes ;  of  the  man 
ufacture  of  glass;  of  digging  and  smelting  ores,  and  working  metals, 
—  in  short,  of  producing  from  the  raw  materials  any  of  those  articles 
of  manufacture  which  the  child  daily  sees  and  handles, —  will  furnish 
subjects  for  valuable  and  interesting  lessons.  If  the  parent  or  the 
school-teacher  is  ignorant  concerning  them,  the  requisite  information 
may  readily  be  obtained  from  books  like  the  Penny  Encyclopedia,  or 
smaller  volumes  prepared  expressly  for  the  young.  Undoubtedly  the 
best  mode  of  instructing  a  child,  concerning  any  of  the  operations  in 
the  useful  arts,  is  to  allow  him  to  see  the  process  going  on ;  and, 
whenever  it  is  practicable,  this  course  should  be  adopted.  It  is  not, 
however,  always  agreeable  to  a  manufacturer  to  be  interrupted  by 
visitors,  and  in  some  places  it  would  be  dangerous  to  allow  children 
to  pass  among  machinery  arranged  with  a  view  to  work,  and  not  to 
show.  But  advantage  should  be  taken  of  those  places  where  work 
can  be  seen  without  interruption  to  the  workmen,  and  especially  of 
industrial  exhibitions  and  mechanics'  fairs. 

Beside  the  enlargement  of  mind,  the  extension  of  the  circle  of 
ideas,  the  increase  of  his  power  of  conception,  which  a  child  may 
gain  from  the  examination  of  agricultural  tools  and  labor-saving 
machinery,  he  will  be  likely  to  choose  his  occupation  in  life  more 
intelligently,  and  with  a  more  just  reference  to  his  own  powers.  The 
attraction  which  plays  so  large  a  part  in  the  theory  of  the  socialists 
cannot  have  fair  play,  and  bring  a  child  into  his  appropriate  sphere 
of  labor,  if  this  opportunity  is  not  furnished  of  determining  towards 
what  sphere  he  is  most  strongly  drawn.  A  history  of  inventions, 
books  containing  the  first  rudiments  of  agriculture,  books  somewhat 
like  Babbage's  Economy  of  Manufactures,  but  treating  also  of  car 
pentry  and  ship-building,  and  one  on  commerce,  ought  to  make  part 


THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 


235 


of  the  child's  reading.  No  reading-books  with  which  we  are  ac 
quainted  give  a  complete  view  of  these  subjects,  in  a  form  adapted 
for  school  use;  but  we  have  found  Miss  Edgeworth's  "Harry  and 
Lucy  "  answer  tolerably  well. 

The  moment  that  man's  bodily  needs  are  satisfied  he  expresses  his 
feelings  in  art.  Music  and  dancing,  sculpture  and  painting,  are  as 
natural  as  eating  and  drinking.  The  child  of  a  year  old  makes  any 
thing  into  a  doll,  and  recognizes  in  the  rudest  picture  the  designed 
resemblance.  At  three  years  old  it  is  frequently  able  to  sing ;  occa 
sionally  much  earlier  than  that.  Nature  thus  bids  us  begin  early  the 
instruction  of  the  child  in  these  departments.  A  slate  and  pencil 
should  be  among  the  first  playthings  put  into  the  child's  hands.  Hoi- 
brook's  Outlines,  or  similar  simple  copies  for  imitation,  may  be 
among  the  earliest  lessons ;  but  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that 
the  child  should  at  once  begin  also  to  draw  from  natural  objects.  A 
fresh  green  leaf,  or  a  simple  flower,  may  be  drawn  bj  a  very  young 
child,  as  easily  from  the  living  specimen  as  from  a  printed  wood-cut, 
and  will  stimulate  his  powers  of  observation  and  conception  to  vastly 
higher  activity ;  giving  him  thereby  not  only  more  pleasure,  but  a 
much  greater  increase  of  power.  The  inventive  drawing  taught  by 
Professor  Whittaker  will  be  of  much  greater  advantage  to  the  pupil 
if  it  be  preceded  by  an  accurate  copying  from  nature.  Drawing 
from  nature  leads  to  accuracy  and  closeness  of  observation,  and  to 
correctness  of  conception,  which  are  of  the  greatest  use  in  drawing 
from  imagination.  But  inventive  drawing,  when  not  preceded  by 
the  practice  of  copying  natural  objects,  would  conduce  very  feebly 
towards  the  attaining  of  either  the  habit  of  accurate  observation,  or 
of  graceful  and  beautiful  creations.  The  two  modes  of  drawing  are 
complementary  to  each  other ;  and  the  inventive  drawing,  or  creation 
of  ideal  forms,  is  certainly  the  highest.  But,  on  that  very  account, 
because  it  it  the  highest,  it  should  come  latest ;  and  the  practice  of 
many  schoolteachers  of  introducing  it  first  is  subversive  of  natural 
order. 

The  real  order  of  procedure  in  art  is  more  universally  observed  in 
music,  in  which  airs  are  learned  by  imitation,  and  the  child  is  never 
required  to  extemporize  melodies.  Singing  has  been  introduced  very 
extensively  into  public  schools,  and  the  instruction  almost  invariably 
is  begun  by  simply  teaching  the  children  to  sing  melodies  by  ear. 
In  schools  of  a  higher  grade  they  are  taught  to  read  the  ordinary 
musical  notation,  and  are  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  transposition, 
which  involves  a  slight  knowledge  of  thorough  bass.  We  think  that 
in  high  schools  and  colleges  the  knowledge  of  music  might  be  ex- 


23G  THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

tended  further  into  the  rules  of  composition,  both  as  regards  harmony 
and  musical  form,  and  that  the  pupil  should  be  required  to  compose 
melodies,  and  harmonize  them.  They  would  be  worthless  to  others  • 
but  the  attempt  to  write  them  would  greatly  increase  the  scholar's 
enjoyment  of  music. 

The  most  extensive  and  important  group  of  the  historical  sciences 
is  included  under  the  name  of  languages.  Logically  this  follows  the 
study  of  labor  and  of  art;  we  must  know  things  before  we  can  talk 
about  them ;  and,  logically,  language  precedes  law ;  we  must  commu 
nicate  our  ideas  before  we  can  enforce  them.  But,  practically,  the 
study  of  language  begins  at  the  hour  of  birth ;  and  when  the  child 
enters  school  he  already  talks  fluently.  The  first  point  of  instruction 
in  school  will  naturally  be  to  teach  him  to  read  and  write  the  lan 
guage  which  he  has  learned  to  speak.  And,  since  we  are  talking  of 
those  who  use  alphabetic  writing,  the  first  step  in  this  process  natu 
rally  should  b«  to  teach  the  child  to  analyze  his  spoken  words  into 
their  phonetic  elements.  This  ought  indeed  to  have  been  done  at 
home;  nothing  will  so  surely  and  so  rapidly  teach  a  child  the  correct 
enunciation  of  words,  as  teaching  it,  in  its  earliest  efforts  at  speech, 
to  enunciate,  as  an  infantile  amusement,  the  separate  elements  of 
spoken  language.  But,  as  this  is  not  usually  done  at  home,  it  de 
volves  upon  the  teacher,  as  the  first  labor  when  the  child  enters 
school.  As  the  pupil  learns  to  distinguish  the  elements  of  speech, 
and  to  form  them  distinctly,  separate  from  words,  he  should  be  taught 
the  alphabetic  signs  which  represent  them ;  not  giving  them  the 
names  by  which  they  are  commonly  designated,  but,  at  first,  teaching 
them  as  the  symbols  of  the  sounds.  For  instance,  the  word  aitch 
should  not  be  taught  to  the  child  until  he  is  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  fact  that  the  character  h  signifies  a  roughness  of  breathing,  while 
the  mouth  is  in  the  position  for  sounding  any  vowel.  Unfortunately, 
our  English  alphabet  contains  but  twenty-six  letters,  three  of  which, 
c,  q,  and  or,  are  superfluous ;  leaving  only  twenty-three  symbols  by 
which  to  represent  forty  or  more  sounds.  Moreover,  in  our  ordinary 
spelling,  we  are  not  content  with  being  thus  obliged  to  represent  at 
least  seventeen  sounds  by  symbols  already  appropriated  to  some  other 
sound ;  we  also  represent  a  single  sound  by  many  different  symbols, 
and  our  language,  instead  of  being  alphabetic,  is,  in  the  ordinary 
orthography,  logographic.  A  child  cannot,  therefore,  be  taught  to 
read  ordinary  English  printing  in  any  natural  and  easy  way.  A 
tough  constitution  resists  a  great  deal  of  hardship  and  abuse ;  and  a 
vigorous  intellect  frequently  survives  the  labor  of  learning  to  spell  in 
the  ordinary  mode.  A  man  who  has  lived  through  a  course  of  bad 


THE  TRUE  ORDER  OF  STUDIES.  237 

diet,  and  inattention  to  the  laws  of  health,  is  apt  to  regard  attention 
to  such  matters  as  a  mark  of  effeminacy ;  and,  in  like  manner,  tho.-e 
whose  love  of  literature  has  not  been  absolutely  quenched,  and  whose 
power  to  see  truth  has  not  been  wholly  blinded,  by  the  ordinary  mode 
of  learning  to  read,  suppose  that  there  is  no  urgent  need  for  improve 
ments  ;  but  whoever  will  reflect  upon  the  absurdities  of  English 
orthography,  and  upon  the  gravity  with  which  those  absurdities  are 
usually  introduced  to  the  child  as  reasonable  things,  must  perceive 
that  such  instruction  has  an  injurious  effect  upon  the  child's  mental 
powers,  and  upon  his  love  of  truth.  The  child  may  survive  it,  as  he 
survived  the  compression  of  swathing-bands,  drenching  with  herb 
teas,  and  drugging  with  cordials;  nay,  the  injurious  effect  may,  in 
the  case  of  a  yery  vigorous  mind,  be  infinitesimal ;  but  it  is  always 
pernicious,  and,  in  the  case  cf  persons  of  small  intellectual  ability, 
disastrous. 

The  attempt  to  change  the  printed  forms  of  the  English  language, 
for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  books  and  newspapers,  may  be  impracti 
cable  ;  and  it  may  not  even  be  desirable  that  such  attempts  should 
succeed ;  but  the  use  of  phonetic  books  for  the  purpose  of  teaching 
children  to  read,  is  both  practicable  and  in  the  highest  degree  useful. 
So  soon  as  the  child  has  learned  to  read  fluently  in  phonotype,  it  may 
take  up  common  print,  and  read  it  easily  from  the  general  resem 
blance  of  the  words  on  one  page  to  those  on  the  other;  as  has  been 
proved  experimentally  in  thousands  of  cases.  The  child  thus  taught 
to  read  common  print,  has  its  orthography  more  firmly  fixed  in  his 
memory,  because  he  perceives  more  clearly  its  oddities  and  anomalies. 
Bad  spelling  usually  arises  from  an  attempt  to  spell  phonetically  with 
the  common  alphabet ;  but  this  would  be  less  likely  to  be  done  by 
one  who  had  been  accustomed  to  associate  the  idea  of  phonetic  value 
only  with  a  different  alphabet.  The  use  of  a  phonotype,  for  teaching 
a  child  to  read,  has  also  the  advantage  of  giving  unceasing  instruc 
tion  in  accuracy  of  enunciation,  and  no  other  method  has  been  so 
successful  in  removing  from  a  school  provincialisms  and  vulgarities 
of  pronunciation.  For  fixing  the  orthography  of  words  in  the  mem 
ory,  no  practice  is  more  useful  than  that  of  writing  from  dictation ; 
but  this  means,  of  course,  cannot  be  applied  at  a  very  early  age.  If 
we  had  phonotype  in  common  use,  it  would  be  well  to  have  the  child 
taught  to  write  at  the  same  time  that  he  is  taught  to  read ;  but,  with 
our  present  "  heterotypy  "  (as  it  has  been  facetiously  called),  we  must 
be  content  to  begin  writing  at  the  time  of  transition  from  phonotypy, 
when  the  progress  in  reading  will  of  course  be  much  more  rapid  than 
in  writing. 


238  THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

The  approach  to  ordinary  orthography,  through  phonetic  type, 
leads  very  naturally  to  etymological  considerations,  which  will  he  of 
interest  and  value  to  a  child  several  years  before  he  is  ready  fur 
questions  of  syntax.  Words  themselves  must  be  understood  before 
they  can  be  intelligently  classified.  When  a  word  is  introduced  to 
the  child,  in  its  orthographic  dress,  and  he  laughs,  as  well  he  may,  at 
the  oddity  of  its  costume,  we  may  tell  him  of  its  gradual  growth  into 
its  present  form,  and  show  him  how  the  silent,  or  the  mispronounced, 
letters  in  it  are  the  record  of  its  ancient  pronunciation,  or  of  its  deri 
vation,  or  of  an  early  error  in  its  supposed  derivation.  This  will 
lead  us  to  explain  to  the  pupil  the  conventional  element  in  language; 
that  usage  is  the  right  and  rule  of  speaking;  and  then  we  may  go 
further  back,  and  show  how  much  is  really  natural  in  the  origin  of 
language,  and  how  the  meaning  of  words  sometimes  sprang  from  an 
imitation  of  sounds,  from  the  musical  expression  of  speech,  and  from 
instinctive  attempts  at  expression  through  the  position  of  the  organs 
of  speech.  A  child  of  six  years  old  will  recognize  the  nasal  element 
in  the  meaniny  of  such  words  as  snail,  snake,  snap,  snare,  snarl, 
sneak,  sneer,  sneeze,  snicker,  sniff,  snipe,  snivel,  snooze,  snore,  snorf, 
snout,  snub,  snuff,  snuffle,  and  see  how  easily  the  word  nose  can  be 
introduced  into  the  definition  of  each.  Then  it  will  be  interested  to 
know  that  the  Latins  also  called  the  nose  nasus. 

The  forms,  even,  of  the  individual  letters  may  be  made  the  occa 
sion  of  pleasant  lessons  in  the  origin  of  written  language, —  the 
probable  development  of  Shemitic  alphabets  from  phonetic  hiero 
glyphics,  and  of  the  European  alphabets  from  those  of  Phoenicia. 
If  such  instructions  do  not  awaken  a  scholarly  turn  of  mind,  and 
lead  to  literary  taste,  they  will  at  least  relieve  the  dryness  of  the 
spelling-book,  and  give  the  child  some  glimpse  of  the  numerous  and 
subtle  tics  which  bind  us  with  all  the  generations  which  have  pre 
ceded  us. 

The  use  of  language  is  to  be  acquired  at  first  by  imitation.  The 
study  of  books  on  grammar  and  composition  does  not  belong  to  the 
early  years  of  life,  and  it  is  a  complete  inversion  of  the  natural 
method  to  give  a  child  abstract  themes  for  composition  before  he  is 
old  enough  to  think  on  such  themes  of  his  own  accord.  In  the  like 
manner,  it  is  not  in  the  true  course  of  nature  to  teach  a  child  to 
declaim  before  he  can  comprehend  the  pieces  selected  for  declama 
tion.  The  most  instructive  reading  for  a  person  of  any  age  is  that 
whose  tone  of  thought  is  above  his  average  thought,  and  yet  not 
beyond  his  grasp ;  and  the  best  exercise  for  a  child,  in  learning  to 
think  and  to  express  his  thought,  is  to  commit  to  memory  such  poetry 


THE   TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES.  239 

or  prose  as  is  worth  being  treasured  up  forever  in  remembrance,  but 
which  is  not  entirely  above  his  comprehension.  Let  him  also,  with 
the  book  before  him,  extemporaneously,  turn  good  verse  into  good 
prose,  and  repeat  the  process  so  frequently  as  to  bo  able  to  do  it 
without  hesitation.  Before  the  child  can  write  well  ho  can  dictate  a 
narrative  of  some  real  event  in  his  own  experience;  and,  as  soon  as 
he  can  write,  he  should  'be  accustomed  to  writing,  at  first  narrative, 
afterward  gradually  coming  to  more  abstract  forms  of  composition, 
but  always  upon  subjects  with  which  he  is  familiar. 

When  foreign  tongues  are  taught, —  and  every  liberally  educated 
person  should  at  least  have  a  sufficient  acquaintance  with  them  to 
develop  his  philological  tastes,  if  he  have  any, —  the  method  of  nature, 
it  seems  to  us,  requires  a  blending  of  several  modes  of  study.  The 
pronunciation  should  be  a  matter  of  first  importance;  the  student 
deciding,  in  the  case  of  a  dead  language,  on  some  fixed  principles, 
and,  in  the  case  of  a  living  language,  getting  as  nearly  as  possible  to 
actual  present  usage  of  the  best  speakers.  Next  comes  the  translat 
ing,  and  finally  the  grammar.  The  interval  of  time  between  these  is 
not  of  importance ;  but  it  is  of  importance,  in  the  study  of  any  lan 
guage,  to  read  more  than  the  small  portion  which  you  may  daily 
analyze  critically  with  grammar  and  dictionary.  Let  neither  mode 
of  study  be  neglected ;  a  portion  in  one  book  being  thoroughly  stud 
ied  each  day;  while,  in  some  other  book,  several  pages  are  rapidly 
and  imperfectly  read.  The  words  and  constructions  of  most  frequent 
occurrence  will  thus  become  familiar  by  repetition,  and  to  the  disci 
pline  of  the  exact  critical  study  of  sentences  will  be  added  that 
appreciation  of  the  general  spirit  of  a  language  which  can  be  attained 
only  from  a  more  rapid  and  extensive  reading  of  its  best  writers. 
Thus,  in  music,  also,  the  best  culture  is  gained  when  the  pupil  is 
daily  drilled  to  extreme  accuracy  in  the  practice  of  select  pieces,  and 
also  daily  exercised  in  reading  at  sight  several  pages  of  new  music 
In  the  order  of  nature  the  child  hears  language  and  music  long  before 
it  has  the  power  to  analyze  and  study  them ;  and,  in  the  order  of 
study,  it  is  better  to  have  reading  precede,  in  some  degree  at  least,  a 
critical  and  thorough  study. 

When  translating  from  a  foreign  tongue  into  our  own,  there  are 
two  extremes  in  method,  both  of  which  are  admirable,  while  the  mean 
between  them  is  worthless.  In  the  study  of  a  language  you  have 
two  objects  in  view, —  one  to  learn  that  language,  and  the  other  to 
gain  from  the  study  a  strength  and  facility  in  the  use  of  your  own. 
Now,  in  learning  the  foreign  tongue,  one  cannot  translate  too  lit 
erally,  keeping  to  the  order  and  construction  of  the  original ;  while, 


240  THE    TRUE    ORDER    OF    STUDIES. 

for  the  purpose  of  culture  in  the  use  of  the  vernacular,  and  indeed  for 
understanding,  in  the  earlier  stages  of  study,  the  real  thoughts  of  the 
author,  one  cannot  be  too  careful  to  translate  into  the  most  appro 
priate  and  idiomatic  English.  We  would,  therefore,  habitually  accus 
tom  the  student  to  a  double  rendering,  first  literally,  then  idiomat 
ically  ;  and  in  the  literal  rendering  allow  even  etymological  fidelity 
to  the  prefixes  and  parts  of  a  compound  word.  Thus  the  proverb, 
Unkraut  verycht  nicht,  may  have  the  double  rendering,  An  un-plant 
thorouyhly-yoes  ?wt ;  that  is,  Weeds  never  die  out.  The  habit  of 
literal  rendering  may  be  dropped  as  soon  as  the  student  has  acquired 
the  power  of  reading  and  understanding  the  foreign  language  without 
a  mental  transposition  into  the  vernacular  idiom ;  but  the  habit  of 
correct  rendering  into  easy  and  idiomatic  English  must  be  cultivated 
carefully  as  long  as  the  study  of  the  language  is  pursued ;  —  the  first 
is  for  a  temporary  use ;  the  second  for  a  permanent  possession.  Next 
to  the  ability  to  act  well  must  be  placed  the  ability  to  speak  well, — 
and  indeed,  so  interwoven  are  the  functions  of  the  human  being,  that 
the  ability  to  express  thought  increases  the  ability  to  think,  and  the 
power  to  think  increases  the  power  to  act.  The  common  opinion, 
that  the  development  of  one  power  is  at  the  expense  of  another,  arises 
from  the  fact  that  the  developed  power  is  usually  one  that  was  by 
natural  gift  predominant;  and  the  power  that  has  dwindled,  at  first 
naturally  feeble,  has  not  had  sufficient  exercise  to  keep  it  of  its  orig 
inal  strength. 

The  brief  limits  to  which  we  are  compelled  to  compress  these 
papers  force  us  to  give  them  a  fragmentary  character,  and  to  leave 
each  branch  of  the  subject  but  partially  developed ;  hoping  that  the 
connection  and  unity  of  the  parts  will  be  apparent  to  the  reader  who 
carries  in  his  mind  the  general  principles  announced  in  our  first  arti 
cle;  and  that  such  readers  may  find  here  hints  that  shall  lead  them, 
in  the  course  of  their  own  thoughts,  to  new  confirmations  of  the  gen 
eral  truth  and  utility  of  these  views,  and  to  new  applications  of  them 
to  special  points  in  education. 

The  fourth  general  group  of  studies,  included  in  our  great  division 
of  history,  we  have  designated  in  our  tabular  view  by  the  word  law. 
Man  is  not  content  with  thinking  and  expressing  his  thoughts,  with 
subduing  outward  nature  to  his  needs,  and  making  it  subservient  to 
his  purposes ;  he  also  seeks  to  govern  his  fellow-men.  The  child  is 
born  subject  to  his  parents,  and  the  family  government  has  always 
been  a  type,  perhaps  suggesting  and  leading  to  the  government  of 
tribes  and  nations.  At  all  events,  there  are  no  men  to  be  found 
without  some  traces  of  government,  and,  in  all  civilized  countries, 


THE   TRUE   ORDER   OF   STUDIES.  241 

there  has  been  developed  the  idea  of  impersonal  law,  in  the  organiza 
tion  of  a  community  whose  associated  wisdom  shall  decide  upon  what 
is  right,  and  what  is  for  the  best  interests  of  the  whole  ;  whose  asso 
ciated  power  shall  enforce  the  right  and  develop  the  good,  as  far  as 
the  limits  of  its  ability  extend.  The  historical  study  of  these  rela 
tions  of  men  to  each  other  is  necessary,  not  only  to  a  full  development 
of  the  student's  mental  powers,  but  as  a  preparation  by  which  he  is 
fitted  for  an  intelligent  participation  in  the  rights  and  duties  of  those 
relations. 

The  method  of  nature  is  here  evident,  that  the  child  is  born  into 
the  family;  and  learns,  by  subjection  to  his  parents,  the  duty  of  sub 
jection  to  all  just  authority,  before  he  can  understand  the  ground  on 
which  the  authority  rests.  He  is  brought  under  the  order  and  disci 
pline  of  the  family,  before  he  can  rise  to  the  comprehension  of  that 
vast  scheme  of  universal  order,  planned  by  Infinite  Wisdom,  in  obe 
dience  to  the  impulses  of  Unfathomable  Love,  and  carried  into  execu 
tion  by  Almighty  Power,  —  that  Universal  Order  after  which  all 
wise  legislation  strives,  according  to  which  all  just  judicial  decisions 
are  framed,  and  which  all  righteous  executive  power  seeks  to  em 
body. 

So,  in  the  school,  the  first  and  most  important  ideas  of  law  come 
not  from  histories  and  constitutions,  nor  from  political  orations,  read 
or  studied  by  the  child,  but  from  the  wise  and  just  discipline  of  the 
school-room,  from  the  rules  of  play  observed  in  the  games  among  his 
school-fellows,  and  from  the  perception  that  the  parents  and  the  teach 
ers  are  also  subject,  even  in  school  matters,  to  the  laws  of  the  com 
monwealth  and  to  the  votes  of  the  town.  The  judicious  teacher,  by 
occasional  words,  rightly  directing  the  child's  attention  for  a  moment 
to  such  themes,  gives  what  we  have  called  incidental  instruction  in 
politics  and  law.  The  next  step,  in  this  branch  of  study,  is  history 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  Afterwards,  in  the  higher  school 
or  college,  the  pupil  should  take  a  brief  course  of  study  in  constitu 
tional  law,  commentaries  on  the  constitution  of  his  own  state,  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  Great  Britain,  comparing  them  with  those  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  of  the  Hebrew  Commonwealth. 

It  was  our  original  purpose,  in  commencing  these  papers,  to  have 
continued  them  so  as  to  embrace  remarks  on  psychological  and  theo 
logical  studies ;  but,  as  circumstances  have  compelled  us  to  defer  the 
remaining  papers  to  an  indefinite  period,  we  will  append  here  some 
general  cautions  to  the  reader,  which  we  had  proposed  to  leave  to  the 
end.  A  recent  very  friendly  criticism  on  our  views  shows  a  misap 
prehension  of  them,  by  saying  that  we  have  placed  the  studies  of  the 

16 


242  THE   TRUE   ORDER   OF   STUDIES. 

encyclopedia  in  a  right  line,  instead  of  in  a  circle,  and  that  we  have 
provided  only  for  the  education  of  the  knowing  faculties,  without  pro 
viding  for  the  education  of  the  powers  of  expression  and  action,  and 
of  the  feelings  and  sentiments. 

Let  the  teacher,  who  is  really  desirous  of  knowing  the  true  plan  of 
education,  remember  that  the  body  and  its  organs  need  training  and 
care  for  their  preservation  and  full  development ;  that  the  sentiments 
and  passions  need  to  be  judiciously  called  into  play,  and  guided  in 
their  direction ;  that,  above  all,  promptness  and  efficiency  of  action, 
and  perseverance  of  purpose,  are  to  be  cultivated  with  great  care, 
under  a  consecration  to  the  love  of  God,  and  charity  to  men.  In  our 
scheme  of  studies  we  are  showing  what  we  consider  the  natural  order 
of  intellectual  growth,  and  the  following  of  this  order  will  simply  give 
the  best  opportunities  for  the  other  kinds  of  education.  Thus  intel 
lectually  we  place  the  cultivation  of  the  powers  of  observation  first  in 
the  scale,  preceding  that  of  the  inventive  and  of  the  reasoning  powers. 
This  intellectual  order  of  nature  gives  the  opportunity,  in  physical 
education,  of  keeping  the  young  child  out  of  doors,  rambling,  under 
the  guidance  of  its  teacher,  by  the  roadside,  or  over  the  pastures,  to 
the  benefit  of  its  body  as  much  as  of  its  mind.  The  same  intellectual 
order  gives,  in  moral  education,  the  opportunity  for  developing  pure 
tastes,  the  love  of  natural  beauty,  and  affording  social  pleasures  of  a 
higher  character  than  in  the  ordinary  plays  of  the  school-yard.  It 
gives  also  the  best  opportunity  for  impressing  the  young  heart  with 
the  infinite  wisdom  and  love  manifested  in  the  creation ;  and  the  free 
dom  of  the  walk  allows  the  opportunity  for  the  child  to  manifest  its 
own  choice  and  will  in  showing  kindness  to  its  playmates  according  to 
the  command  of  the  Heavenly  Father.  In  like  manner,  the  whole 
arrangement  of  the  intellectual  problems  placed  before  the  human 
spirit  would  be  found,  if  we  understood  it  in  its  natural  order,  to  be 
adapted  for  the  appropriate  furtherance,  at  the  proper  age,  of  each 
part  of  physical,  moral,  and  religious  education. 

The  complaint  which  has  been  made,  that  an  intellectual  education 
is  of  no  moral  benefit,  but  rather  a  moral  injury,  so  far  as  it  is  well 
grounded,  is  grounded  as  much  upon  the  fact  that  our  intellectual 
drilling  has  been  inverted  in  its  order,  crippling  rather  than  cultivat 
ing  the  powers  of  observation,  as  upon  the  fact  that  the  attention 
given  to  intellectual  education  has  withdrawn  the  attention  from 
moral  training.  This  idea  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  moving 
springs  in  the  heart  of  the  late  lamented  Josiah  Holbrook.  In  like 
manner,  the  injury  done  to  the  bodily  health  of  children,  by  over- 
study,  comes  as  much  from  the  unnatural  inversion  of  studies,  the 


THE   TRUE   ORDER   OF   STUDIES.  243 

giving  of  that  which  is  abstract  before  that  which  is  concrete,  as  from 
the  absolute  amount  of  time  spent  by  the  children  in  close  attention 
to  the  subjects  set  before  them.  Whatever  be  the  amount  of  knowl 
edge  acquired  in  a  given  time,  the  ease  of  its  acquisition  will,  evi 
dently,  be  partly  proportional  to  the  lucidness  and  naturalness  of  the 
order  in  which  it  was  acquired.  The  purely  intellectual  question  of 
the  true  order  of  studies  is,  therefore,  intimately  connected,  in  more 
than  one  mode,  with  the  question  of  moral  and  physical  training, 
with  the  whole  question  of  the  highest  welfare  of  the  individual  and 
o£  the  family,  the  state,  and  the  church. 

Nor,  in  either  physical,  intellectual,  moral  or  religious  education, 
should  we  forget  the  artistic  side ;  —  that  is  to  say,  we  must  remem 
ber  that  skill  in  expression  or  action  is  as  desirable  as  simple  power. 
A  man  not  only  needs  power,  but  needs  it  under  control,  else  it  loses 
its  worth.  Of  how  little  avail  would  physical  strength  and  health  be 
to  a  man  who  could  neither  walk  well  nor  swim  well,  who  was  at 
ease  neither  on  the  rower's  seat  nor  in  the  saddle,  who  could  neither 
drive  nor  skate,  who  could  neither  mow  nor  dig,  but  who,  in  all 
manly  sports  and  in  all  useful  labors,  found  himself  strong  indeed, 
but  clumsy,  and  inefficient  for  lack  of  skill.  In  like  manner,  he 
would  feel  humbled  and  awkward  indeed,  who  was  conscious  of  great 
thoughts,  and  of  deep  emotions,  and  of  a  strong  purpose  to  do  right, 
and  was  nevertheless  unable  to  express  himself  either  by  spoken  or 
written  words,  by  chisel  or  pencil,  or  by  musical  tones,  or  by  well- 
planned  and  well-timed  deeds. 

While  all  studies  must  be  used  as  means  of  developing  and  guiding 
some  power  of  action  and  expression,  as  well  as  of  understanding,  it 
is  perhaps  the  especial  function  of  the  historic  studies,  of  trade,  art, 
language  and  law,  to  cultivate  the  powers  of  expression ;  and  the 
teacher  must  remember  to  apply  them  in  such  manner  as  to  produce 
this  end.  As  the  bread  of  the  mind  is  truth,  so  the  bread  of  the 
moral  nature  is  action,  or  expression,  and  the  pupil  must  be  drawn 
out  into  expression,  not  made  the  mere  recipient  of  instruction. 

To  pass  to  the  other  point  in  which  we  would  caution  the  reader 
against  a  misapprehension  of  our  views,  it  does  not  follow,  because 
we  have  arranged  the  five  branches  of  the  hierarchy  in  a  certain  log 
ical  order,  with  Mathematics  at  one  end  and  Theoiogy  at  the  other, 
that  this  order  is  to  be  followed  in  arranging  successive  years  of 
School  life.  It  would  better  apply  to  the  minutes.  The  order  is  that 
of  logical  development,  that  in  which  the  subjects  are  to  be  success 
ively  unfolded  to  their  fullest  extent ;  but  it  would  be  absurd  to  post 
pone  physical  teaching  entirely  until  a  full  knowledge  of  mathematics 


244  'IRE   raUE   ORDEB    OF    STUDIES. 

had  been  obtained,  and  so  of  any  other  branches.  We  may  perhaps 
compare  the  course  of  education  to  the  phyllotactie  spiral  on  a  two- 
fifths  arrangement.  The  mathematics  are  the  row  of  leaves  on  winch 
the  zero  leaf  is  to  be  taken,  and  you  cannot  rise  to  a  higher  point  in 
your  mathematics,  except  by  running  round  through  the  other  four 
rows.  For  the  full,  harmonious  development  of  the  child's  mind  we 
need  a  perpetual  recurrence  to  the  five  essential  branches  of  inquiry 
suggested  by  every  sight  of  nature.  The  youngest  child  in  the  school 
brings  in,  perhaps,  a  dandelion.  What  is  its  form,  and  the  number 
of  its  rays?  These  questions  belong  to  mathematics.  What  is  its 
color,  taste  and  smell,  its  medicinal  effects,  its  relations  to  the  sun 
flower  and  other  composite  plants?  —  these  are  questions  of  physics. 
The  derivation  of  its  name,  dandelion,  —  dents  de  lion,  dens  leonis, 
—  from  the  form  of  the  leaf,  and  of  the  generic  name,  taraxacum, 
from  its  medical  effect ;  the  fact  of  its  introduction  from  Europe ;  the 
quotation  of  the  lines, — 

"  Dear  common  flower,  that  grow'st  beside  the  way, 
Fringing  the  dusty  road  with  harmless  gold  ;" — 

these  would  be  historical  instructions  from  the  same  simple  flower. 
Then  ask  the  child  to  tell  you  why  he  likes  this  flower  so  much ; 
whether  it  is  because  it  is  prettier  than  morning-glories,  or  because  it 
comes  so  early,  or  because  it  is  so  common, —  and  you  stimulate  him, 
perhaps,  to  one  of  his  earliest  efforts  at  a  psychological  self-examination. 
Finally,  speak  to  him,  reverently  and  warmly,  of  the  goodness  of  the 
Heavenly  Father,  who  has  spread  beauty  with  so  unsparing  a  band 
before  us,  and  tell  him  of  the  Saviour's  appeal  to  our  conscience, 
drawn  from  the  beauty  of  the  lily,  using  simple  language  that  he  can 
understand,  —  and  you  will  have  given  him  theological  lessons  also. 

Now,  every  lesson  in  the  school  of  life  will  lead,  as  simply  as  this 
dandelion  has  done,  to  the  five  great  branches  of  intellectual  studies ; 
and  no  lesson  has  been  fully  taught  until  it  has  thus  been  linked  into 
relation  with  all  the  main  lines  of  dependent  truth.  The  simplest 
geometry  has  its  application  to  physics,  its  history  of  discovery  and 
application,  its  psychological  questions  of  the  foundations  of  belief 
and  the  nature  of  proof,  and  its  theological  aspect,  in  such  queries  as 
whether  the  relations  of  space  are  or  are  not  dependent  on  the  consti 
tution  of  our  minds,  and  thus  on  the  will  of  the  Creator.  The  cycle 
of  these  five  branches  must  be  daily  recurring,  and  our  aim  has  been, 
in  these  articles,  to  show  in  what  order  the  five  branches  are  to  be 
placed,  which  must  always  precede  the  others,  which  must  first  re 
ceive  full  development,  and  which,  the  crown  and  glory  of  the  whole, 
must  be  always  least  within  the  reach  of  finite  faculties. 


THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED, 

BY   THOMAS   HILL.  D.  D.  Lt.  D,,  PRESIDENT   OP  HARVARD   COLLEGE. 


A»  I  was  journeying  towards  this  city  to  partake  in  the  pleasures 
of  this  gathering  I  saw  upon  an  island,  in  the  northern  part  of  yonder 
brineless  ocean,  a  little  collection  of  five  or  six  houses,  and  among 
them  one  hut  that  attracted  the  attention  of  all  our  party.  It  was 
so  low,  that  although  the  door  nearly  reached  the  eaves,  a  tall  man 
might  be  forced  to  stoop  to  enter ;  it  was  so  poor  that  neither  glass 
nor  sash  was  in  its  casements.  Yet  it  was  a  palace  wherein  a  queen 
was  reigning  and  was  rearing  kings.  It  was  a  school-house  built 
through  the  missionary  zeal  of  a  noble  girl  who  after  procuring  its 
erection  and  gathering  in  it  all  the  children  of  the  island,  gave  two 
years'  service  to  this  school  of  less  than  a  score  of  children,  gratuit 
ously,  and  now  two  other  years  with  a  pay  that  is  merely  nominal. 
As  I  heard  the  story  of  her  generous  labors,  undertaken  with  no 
thought  that  they  should  be  known  and  appreciated  beyond  the 
narrow  confines  of  that  lonely  island  ;  I  felt  a  new  sense  of  the 
dignity  and  grandeur  of  our  profession  as  teachers  and  in  my  heart, 
thanked  God  that  He  had  called  me  to  such  a  goodly  fellowship,  em 
bracing  thousands  of  these  humble  but  glorious  laborers,  one  in  pur 
pose  and  devotion,  with  the  teacher  of  North  Manitou  Island. 

For  as  I  heard  the  story,  I  endeavored  to  estimate  the  value  of  the 
work  there,  and  measure  as  I  would,  I  found  it  invaluable.  Measure 
it  by  the  cost  of  re-production,  and  it  is  immeasurable.  For  it  is 
impossible  to  give  to  one  already  adult,  instruction  in  the  tender 
years  of  his  youth.  Measure  by  its  utility  and  it  is  immeasurable ; 
since  the  uses,  to  a  man  and  to  the  community  in  which  he  lives,  of 
the  knowledge  he  may  have  gained  and  of  the  culture  he  may  have 
received  are  innumerable,  inestimable,  and  of  eternal  duration.  Thus 
I  was  led  anew  to  consider  the  greatness  of  the  work  of  educating 
the  young ;  and  I  thought  I  might  be  pardoned  if  I  used  this  little 
school  on  Manitou  Island  as  an  introduction  to  the  thoughts  which 
I  hoped  to  bring  forward  at  this  meeting. 

The  course  of  instruction,  the  true  selection  and  arrangement  of 
studies  in  liberal  education,  is  evidently  one  of  the  most  important 


246  THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED. 

points  in  this  great  work,  and  yet  a  point  which  it  seems  t »  me  is 
not  discussed  from  a  right  point  of  view.  In  special  Schools  of 
Science  and  of  Art  the  courses  of  instruction  are  frequently  well 
considered,  and  both  the  selection  and  the  arrangement  of  the  topics 
studied  are  made  upon  definite  and  established  principles.  Not  so 
with  reference  to  our  more  fundamental  schools  of  general  liberal 
culture ;  in  them,  whether  in  the  kindergarten  and  infant  school,  in 
the  common  school  and  academy,  or  in  the  college  and  university, 
either  custom  rules,  or  the  course  of  study  arises  from  a  balance  of 
powers  among  various  teachers  or  members  of  a  governing  body ; 
each  zealously  advocating  the  claims  of  some  special  branch  of  learn 
ing.  There  is  no  general  recognition  of  any  great  principles  controll 
ing  the  whole  matter, — no  recognition  of  the  need  of  having  those 
principles  reduced  to  a  clear  code  for  the  government  of  educators. 

In  my  own  feeble  attempts  to  supply  this  need, — which  I  could 
not,  when  I  considered  the  great  ability  and  zeal  of  my  predecessors, 
and  my  cotemporaries,  flatter  myself  would  be  much  more  success 
ful  than  other  men's  failures, — I  have  thought  that  a  general  scheme 
for  the  guidance  of  liberal  education  might  be  safely  built,  only 
upon  one  of  the  three  following  foundations. 

First,  upon  a  thorough  survey  of  the  field  of  human  activity ;  of 
the  duties  for  which  the  pupil  is  to  be  prepared. 

Secondly,  upon  a  survey  of  the  whole  field  of  things  which  can 
be  imparted  by  teaching. 

Thirdly,  upon  a  thorough  survey  of  the  powers  which  can  be  im 
proved  by  training. 

Either  of  these  foundations  being  carefully  prepared  by  an  ex 
haustive  survey  would  afford  a  safe  basis  on  which  wise  and  skillful 
men  could  build  up  a  true  scheme  of  education  adapted  to  public 
and  general  needs,  and  adapted  also,  to  the  more  special  cases 
of  brilliancy  and  genius,  or  of  feeble  mindedness  on  one  or  many 
sides.  Of  course,  I  assume  that  a  true  statement  of  the  proper 
course  and  mode  of  instruction  is  possible,  at  least  to  thought, 
which  shall  include  the  education  of  a  genius  and  of  an  idiot,  as 
well  as  of  the  mass  of  men.  I  assume  also,  that  a  true  course  and 
mode  of  general  liberal  culture,  built  upon  either  of  the  three 
foundations  above  mentioned,  would  coincide  with  the  true  course 
and  mode  built  upon  either  of  the  others.  The  safest  mode  of  pro 
ceeding,  therefore,  will  be  for  our  best  thinkers  and  writers  to  survey 
finally  all  three  of  these  bases,  to  build  upon  them  schemes  of  in 
struction,  and  by  a  comparison  of  these  schemes  to  elicit  at  length, 
the  correct  mode.  It  may  be  the  work  of  centuries  to  accomplish 


THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED.  247 

this, — but  when  we  look  around  us  and  behold  what  a  populous 
wealthy  and  ancient  city  has  been  built  about  the  fork  of  this  little 
river  within  the  lifetime  of  most  of  us  present,  we  are  emboldened 
to  hope  that  great  achievements  in  intellectual  and  social  life  will 
not  henceforth  require  such  wearisome  years  to  finish. 

But  when  we  attempt  a  thorough  survey  of  the  field  of  human 
activity  and  duty,  we  find  that  field  so  rapidly  enlarging  and  alter 
ing  in  its  perspective  that  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  omissions  of  parts 
which  to  day  may  seem  of  little  worth,  and  to-morrow  may  prove 
all-important.  At  the  time  when  the  question  was  asked,  what 
should  boys  be  taught,  and  it  was  answered,  that  which  they  can 
use  as  men,  it  was  supposed  that  Conic  Sections  were  altogether 
idle  and  useless  speculations.  For  two  hundred  years  the  school  of 
Plato  had  studied  the  properties  of  those  curves,  and  Apollonius 
had  summed  up  the  results  in  eight  books  filled  with  truths  of  mar 
velous  beauty, — but  of  no  known  utility.  Perchance  it  might 
have  been  then  thought  that  the  Conic  Sections  were  unlit  to  be 
the  study  of  a  youth,  because  he  could  not  put  them  to  any  use  as  a 
man.  But  after  ten  times  two  hundred  years  had  passed,  these  very 
Conic  Sections  became  the  most  practically  useful  of  all  objects  of 
study,  and  every  shipyard,  and  every  ship's  dock,  every  machine- 
shop,  and  every  railroad  track  affords  the  amplest  opportunities  for 
applying  them  to  practice. 

From  the  errors  into  which  we  might  fall  by  thus  contracting  our 
ideas  of  utility,  we  could  be  saved  only  by  expanding  them  to  that 
degree  that  the  useful  could  no  longer  be  distinguished  from  the 
visionary.  Thus  our  first  foundation  for  a  scheme  of  liberal  instruc 
tion,  although  theoretically  sound,  is  practically  difficult,  and  will  be 
useful  chiefly  in  confirming  or  correcting  and  modifying  conclusions 
reached  through  an  investigation  of  the  other  two. 

The  second  foundation  is  a  thorough  survey  of  the  whole  field  of 
things  capable  of  being  imparted  by  instruction.  Upon  this  survey 
I  have  at  sundry  times  made  preliminary  sketches  and  published  the 
results.*  Among  those  results  is  a  rough  map  of  the  field  of  knowl 
edge.  I  divide  all  human  science  into  five  grand  divisions  accord 
ing  to  its  subject  matter.  The  first  embraces  Space  and  Time  af 
fording  us  the  sciences  of  Geometry,  Algebra,  and  Arithmetic. 
The  second  takes  in  the  physical  world,  giving  us  the  sciences  of 
Mechanics,  Chemistry,  and  Physiology.  The  third  embraces  the 
actions  of  men  giving  us  the  Arts  and  Fine  Art,  Language,  and  Law. 
The  fourth  takes  in  the  spirit  of  man,  giving  us  the  sciences  of  Me- 

*  "American  Journal  of  Education,"  Vol.  v.,  for  Map,  see  page  14,  45 


248  THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED. 

taphysics,  ^Esthetics,  and  Ethics.  The  fifth  contemplates  the  Divine 
Being  and  gives  us  the  sciences  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion. 
1  have  on  sundry  public  occasions  endeavored  to  show  that  this 
rough  sketch  of  the  field  of  knowledge  affords  the  best  guide  to 
education ;  that  these  sciences  naturally  follow  each  other  in  the 
order  here  given ;  and  are  to  be  learned  only  in  that  order,  con 
sciously  or  unconsciously  followed  ;  and  that  any  attempt  to  invert 
the  order  leads  only  to  a  necessity  of  teaching  the  lower  truth 
covertly  and  awkwardly,  instead  of  openly  and  naturally. 

But  I  propose  to-day  to  bestow  some  thought  upon  a  preliminary 
sketch  of  the  third  foundation  of  a  true  scheme  of  general  liberal 
culture,  that  is,  the  survey  of  the  powers  which  can  be  improved  by 


training. 


A  child  is  a  will  governing  a  body,  at  the  impulse  of  passion,  and 
under  the  guidance  of  reason.  The  body,  the  mind,  the  feelings, 
and  the  will, — these  constitute  the  four  great  divisions  of  our  sub 
ject,  man.  The  body  is  of  course  incapable  of  education,  except 
when  living,  that  is,  in  connection  with  the  mind  and  feelings  and 
will.  The  first  function  of  the  body  is,  then,  to  receive  impressions 
from  the  outward  world,  communicating  sensation  to  the  mind, 
awaking  thought,  arousing  feeling ;  their  combination  exciting  de 
sire,  desire  ripening  into  purpose,  purpose  culminating  in  volition, 
and  volition  manifesting  itself  in  muscular  movement,  a  movement 
of  the  body.  This  is  an  epitome  of  human  history,  and  an  inven 
tory,  in  brief,  of  human  powers, — capable,  therefore,  of  serving  as  a 
basis  of  a  true  scheme  of  education. 

The  first  intellectual  or  spiritual  use  of  the  body  is,  I  say,  to  re 
ceive  impressions  from  the  outward  world,  and  communicate  sensa 
tions  to  the  mind.  In  order  to  do  this  well,  it  must  be  in  a  healthy 
condition,  and  to  this  end,  the  teacher  is  to  guard  sedulously  his 
pupils  against  all  hindrances  to  healthy  growth.  Actual  growth 
comes  only  through  divine  action  and  divine  law, — disease  and  de 
formity  through  hindrances  and  perversions  introduced  by  error  and 
sin.  The  requisites  to  healthy  growth  are,  first,  healthful  food,  fresh 
air  and  sunlight  and  freedom  of  motion ;  secondly,  proper  alterna 
tions  of  rest,  such  as  fasting  and  sleep  and  darkness;  thirdly,  absence 
of  poisons  and  of  unnatural  excitements  of  any  kind,  such  as  pam 
pering  of  the  appetites  and  passions. 

This  matter  of  physical  training  and  of  the  care  of  the  health,  I 
pass  by  for  the  present,  only  beseeching  my  fellow-teachers  not  to 
pass  it  by  in  the  detail  of  their  school  labors.  I  will  only  allude  to 
a  single  point  of  detail,  because  I  conceive  it  to  be  of  such  over- 


THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED.  249 

whelming  importance,  so  little  understood  by  the  majority  of  teach 
ers,  and  neglected  by  them  to  the  terrible  injury  of  their  pupils. 
You  who  have  the  care  of  young  children,  I  beseech  you.  watch 
over  their  purity.  No  more  fearful  loss  can  befall  a  child  than  to 
lose  its  purity  of  heart.  I  beseech  you,  therefore,  to  impress  upon 
your  children  with  all  the  eloquence  of  your  affection,  this  sacred 
rule.  Never  to  do  or  say  any  thing  which  they  would  be  unwilling 
to  have  you  see  and  hear.  Remind  them  that  God  always  sees 
them,  and  plead  with  them  frequently  and  with  earnestness,  even  to 
tears,  not  to  do  or  say  in  His  sight  any  thing  which  they  would  be 
unwilling  to  do  or  say  in  yours.  There  are  sins  which  you  would 
not  warn  them  against  for  fear  of  soiling  their  minds  by  the  sug 
gestion, — but  press  upon  them  this  rule  with  sincere  and  affection 
ate  earnestness,  and  they  will  seldom  need  any  plainer  speech. 

The  first  intellectual  use  of  the  body  is  to  communicate  sensa 
tions  to  the  mind.  Whether  the  power  of  sense  can  be  increased 
by  education  is  a  doubtful  and  debated  point.  My  own  opinion, 
founded  upon  careful  experiments  which  I  have  not  now  time  to  re 
late,  is  that  direct  delicacy  of  sense  is  an  original  gift,  not  capable 
of  direct  increase  by  training.  Physical  causes  may  increase  or 
diminish  it,  as  taking  cold,  for  example,  may  blunt  hearing  and  taste 
and  smell,  but  render  the  eye  sensitive  to  light, — but  by  no  process 
of  education  can  any  such  effect  be  produced. 

A  great  deal,  however,  can  be  done  in  educating  the  ability  of 
judging  on  sensations ; — increase  of  skill  can  be  produced  by  train 
ing  ; — and  increase  of  skill  is  equivalent  to  increase  of  power.  The 
powers  of  sense,  coming  logically  first  in  the  sketch  of  human  na 
ture  which  I  have  made,  and  being  first  of  all,  powers  in  the  order 
of  development  in  the  child's  growth,  should  be  first  educated. 
This  is  done  first  of  all  by  objects, — and  thus  the  object  teaching  of 
the  modern  schools  and  kindergartens  is  rightly  given  to  young  chil 
dren.  But  let  me  warn  young  teachers  that  as  there  is  no  royal 
road  to  geometry,  so  neither  is  there  any  mode  of  teaching  which 
can  render  an  inefficient  and  indifferent  teacher  successful.  Lessons 
from  objects  as  well  as  lessons  from  text-books  can  be  learned  by 
rote,  and  object  teaching  like  recitation  easily  degenerate  into  rou 
tine.  No  matter  what  the  system  is,  it  may  in  the  hands  of  sleepy 
and  thoughtless  teachers,  degrade  all  our  schools,  like  the  one  visited 
by  Dr.  Brown,  into  "  aixlent  cemeteries  of  aidication," — or  it  may, 
in  the  hands  of  earnest,  enthusiastic  and  sensible  teachers,  arouse 
the  pupils  to  new  life  and  lead  them  to  knowledge  and  to  virtue. 
The  object  of  object  teaching  is  to  lead  children  to  observe,  but  a 


250  TIIE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED. 

set  of  stereotyped  questions  upon  a  few  dozen  specimens  in  a 
museum  box  in  the  school-room  will  no  more  teach  children  to  ob 
serve  Mjhat  is  under  their  feet  and  around  them  on  their  way 
through  life,  than  the  setting  of  tasks  in  a  book  for  mcmoriter 
recitation. 

Simultaneous  with  the  development  of  the  powers  of  sensation, 
is  the  awakening  of  a  power  of  perceiving  truths  independent  of 
sense.  There  can  be  no  direct  sensation  without  indirect  conscious 
ness  of  your  sensation,  consciousness  of  your  own  existence  and 
generally  of  your  possession  of  a  bodily  organ  through  which  the 
sensation  comes,  perhaps  of  the  free  movement  of  the  organ  to 
bring  it  into  a  position  to  receive  the  impression  from  a  something, 
which  is  neither  vour  mind,  nor  its  organ  of  sensation.  The  funda 
mental  antithesis  of  philosophy  is,  that  brought  to  knowledge,  and 
at  the  same  moment,  it  is  perceived  that  these  bodily  organs  and 
this  visible  and  tangible  world,  lie  in  space  and  time.  The  soul 
sees  by  direct  inspection  the  existence  and  properties  of  space  and 
time,  not  inferring  them  logically  from  the  properties  of  extension, 
nor  being  forced  by  a  law  of  mind  to  a  fiction  of  their  existence, — 
any  more  than  it  is  forced  to  a  fiction  of  its  own  existence, — but 
seeing  then  by  a  direct  inward  vision  ;  having  its  attention  called  to 
them,  however,  by  the  phenomena  of  nature  manifested  in  them, — 
just  as  its  attention  is  directed  to  its  own  existence,  only  at  the  in 
stant  of  its  perception  of  phenomena  not  itself.  These  powers  of 
direct  perception  external  and  internal,  are  as  I  have  said,  to  be  cul 
tivated  earliest,  not  with  the  hope  of  increasing  the  actual  capacity 
of  the  soul, — for  that  seems  to  vary  only  by  original  gift  or  by  phy 
sical  condition, — but  with  the  well-grounded  hope  of  increasing  the 
skill  of  using  these'  powers  to  an  almost  indefinite  degree.  These 
fundamental  powers  of  direct  vision  of  truth  are  divine  and  inexpli 
cable  even  in  their  native  state,  and  in  their  cultivated  condition 
afford  us  the  highest  objects  of  adoration  and  wonder  as  tokens  of 
the  kindred  of  man  to  the  Infinite  Deity.  By  education  any  one 
sense  may  be  made  to  serve  the  purposes  of  all  the  senses,  and  even 
to  supply  the  place  of  the  higher  powers.  Thus  with  those  blind 
from  birth,  hearing  although  no  more  acute  than  in  other  men,  serves 
to  give  a  thousand  kinds  of  information  which  we  can  not  conceive 
of  as  coming  through  the  air.  What  sort  of  house  is  this  that  we 
are  passing?  I  asked  a  blind  friend,  and  he  replied  without  a 
moment's  hesitation  guided  only  by  the  echo  of  his  footsteps,  "  A 
little  two-story  brick  house  with  a  low  wooden  paling  fence  about 
three  feet  in  front  of  it." 


THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED.  251 

Next  in  order,  after  the  powers  of  direct  perception,  external  and 
internal,  comes  the  powers  of  memory  and  mental  reproduction. 
That  such  a  power  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  exercise  of  any  of 
the  higher  functions  of  the  soul  will  be  manifest,  when  we  remem 
ber  that  the  present  is  an  absolute  zero  point,  and  that  continuity 
of  thought  is  possible,  therefore,  only  through  memory  and  anticipa 
tion.  All  our  life  is  future  or  past,  the  present  gives  only  the  op 
portunities  of  guiding  the  transmutation  of  future  into  past. 

Memory  is  in  its  simplest  form  only  the  permanence  of  the  per 
ception, — more  or  less  vivid.  When  in  the  form  of  recollection  it 
becomes  the  revivification  of  past  perceptions.  Finally,  in  its  higher 
forms  of  fancy  and  imagination,  it  remodels  and  recombines  the 
perceptions  of  the  past  and  projects  them  into  the  future, — or 
separates  them  from  actual  time  and  space  and  throws  them  into 
an  ideal  world. 

These  powers  of  memory  and  imagination,  have,  in  our  ordinary 
school  studies  been  greatly  neglected,  and  cultivated  only  in  their 
lowest  form  of  memory.  Some  teachers,  it  is  true,  perceiving  the 
poverty  of  an  education  which  strengthens  the  memory  only,  have 
altogether  despised  the  cultivation  of  that  faculty  and  endeavored 
to  appeal  to  the  reason  alone.  But  this  course  is  also  against  nature, 
it  can  not  be  fully  carried  into  effect,  because  it  is  an  impossibility 
for  the  reason  to  act,  except  upon  transcripts  furnished  by  the 
imagination  from  perception.  And  therefore  imagination  must  be 
cultivated  before  reason.  Why  will  we  not  gracefully  bow  to  the 
decrees  of  nature  and  follow  her  plans ! 

In  the  cultivation  of  the  imagination,  it  will  of  course  be  remem 
bered,  that  this  culture  should  also  in  its  subdivisions  follow  a  na 
tural  order.  At  first,  memory  alone,  and  memory  of  the  actual  out 
ward  fact, — a  description  of  a  thing  not  now  present,  but  seen  and 
handled  and  smelled  and  listened  to  on  a  previous  day ;  then  memory 
of  words  and  formula  by  rote, — then  the  imagination  and  descrip 
tion  and  perhaps  drawing  of  something  never  seen,  but  defined  and 
suggested  by  the  teacher.  In  this  play  of  the  imagination  all  sensi 
ble  properties  must  be  reproduced ;  but  the  chief  care  should  be 
taken  with  regard  to  form,  or  geometrical  figure ;  by  far  the  most 
important  intellectual  element  in  the  material  world,  simply  because 
the  fundamental  element.  What  is  matter  but  that  which  occupies 
space ; — and  what  a  material  object  but  matter  in  a  definite  part  of 
space,  therefore  having  in  some  sense  a  form,  as  its  first  most  essen 
tial  requisite  of  existence.  Geometry  is  the  foundation  of  learning 
and  no  other  learning  is  possible  except  as  upheld  by  that  foundation. 


252  THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED. 

Geography  is  the  only  one  of  our  ordinary  school  studies  which 
tends  directly  to  the  increase  of  the  powers  of  the  imagination. 
Properly  taught  it  is  almost  exclusively  a  work  of  that  faculty.  It  may 
degenerate  into  a  mere  remembrance  of  names  and  figures, — Chi 
cago,  150,000  souls,  forty  years,  Lake  Michigan  280  miles  by  70. 
But  with  a  teacher  alive  to  her  work,  the  150,000  souls,  and  forty  years, 
will  stimulate  the  pupil  to  conceive  of  a  city,  twice  as  large,  or  half 
as  large,  as  the  one  with  which  alone  he  is  familiar,  having  grown 
up  in  his  father's  lifetime,  and  the  280  miles  by  70,  combined  with 
the  known  figure  of  the  earth,  will  lead  him  to  imagine  the  possibil 
ity  of  a  steamer  running  at  a  good  speed,  in  a  straight  line,  twenty- 
four  hours  without  seeing  land. 

The  imagination  acting  freely,  and  pursuing  only  its  own  ends, 
produces  works  of  fine  art,  statue,  picture,  music,  poem  and  tale ; 
and  these  also  in  their  time  and  place,  are  valuable  for  the  educa 
tion  of  the  power  which  created  them. 

Then,  in  the  order  of  that  use,  comes  the  reasoning  power,  which 
by  a  comparison  of  the  truths  gained  through  perception,  deduces 
new  truths  for  the  internal  vision  to  seize  upon.  For  the  exercise 
and  development  of  this  power  of  reasoning,  we  depend  at  present 
chiefly  upon  leading  the  pupil  to  study  specimens  of  reasoning  in 
the  pure  mathematics, — or  at  a  more  advanced  stage,  upon  giving 
him  treatises  upon  logic  itself. 

It  has  appeared  to  me  that  this  method  could  be  greatly  improved 
by  giving  the  pupils  at  the  age  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  years,  when  the 
logical  power  begins  to  be  developed,  some  simple  explanation  of  the 
nature  of  reasoning,  and  of  the  mode  of  revising  proofs,  and  then 
giving  him  unsolved  problems  for  the  exercise  of  his  own  power  in 
revising  original  demonstrations.  It  is  manifest  that  this  process 
need  not  be  confined  to  mathematics,  but  can  be  extended  into  other 
branches  of  natural  and  metaphysical  sciences. 

We  must  not  forget  that  while  the  intellectual  powers  guide,  the 
passions  alone  impel  to  action.  Simultaneous  with  perception  in 
sensation  is  feeling.  The  sensation  not  only  tells  you  that  some  ex 
ternal  things  acts  upon  your  bodily  organ,  but  gives  you  a  feeling  of 
pleasure  or  of  pain.  This  feeling  is  something  as  indefinable,  mys 
terious  and  ultimate  as  thought  itself, — heat  and  cold,  hunger  and 
thirst,  sweetness,  sourness,  fear,  hope,  hatred,  love,  aversion,  longing ; 
these  words  recall  to  your  remembrance  past  states  of  your  con 
sciousness  in  which  you  knew  .not  only  the  existence  of  yourself 
and  of  some  object  to  which  you  were  in  relation,  but  also  of  some 
quality  in  the  object  which  excited  in  you  a  peculiar  and  indefinable 
state  of  feeling. 


THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED.  253 

Feeling  accompanies  every  act  of  perception,  from  the  simplest 
sense-perception, — as  when  I  touch  this  paper  and  recognize  its  tem 
perature,  texture  and  surface, — up  to  the  most  complex  emotions 
accompanying  the  perception  of  the  grandest  truths  of  politics,  or 
of  theology,  the  emotions  of  patriotism  and  piety. 

When  these  feelings  directly  arouse  strong  desire  they  are  called 
passions.  All  feeling  excites  a  certain  amount  of  desire  or  aversion, 
but  some  feelings  much  more  than  others.  Desire  and  aversion 
bear  to  feeling  somewhat  the  same  relation  that  memory  and  fore 
sight  bear  to  perception.  Desire  and  aversion  arise  from  the  re 
collection  of  past  and  the  imagination  of  future  feeling.  When 
desire  or  aversion  has  a  certain  relative  strength  it  leads  to  purpose, 
which  is  the  first  dawning  of  that  greatest  spiritual  phenomenon,  a 
volition.  Desire  and  purpose  are  each  indefinable  and  fundamental 
states ;  the  former  being  the  culmination  of  feeling,  the  second  the 
dawning  of  will.  Finally  comes  volition,  the  fulfillment  of  the  pur 
pose,  the  voluntary  action. 

Inasmuch  as  these  powers  are  all  of  them  higher,  per  see,  than 
the  intellectual  powers,  it  is  fitting,  if  they  are  capable  of  educa 
tion,  that  their  education  should  be  most  carefully  watched  and 
guarded.  To  preserve  the  freshness  and  tenderness  of  youth,  to 
keep  the  heart  open  for  simple  and  refining  pleasures,  to  guard 
against  the  false  excitements  which  exhaust  the  soul,  to  foster  the 
pure  and  holy  emotions  of  filial  piety,  and  draw  the  heart  toward 
communion  with  a  Heavenly  Father,  these  are  grander  ends  in 
education  than  any  training  of  the  intellectual  powers  can  be  ; — and 
intellectual  training  is  worse  than  wasted  if  it  be  gained  at  the  ex 
pense  of  tenderness  of  heart  and  freshness  of  feeling. 

And  what  else  can  we  say  of  the  importance  of  training  a  child 
in  such  manner  that  it  may  not  allow  its  feelings  to  be  cherished 
into  evil  desires,  or  fail  to  have  its  pure  feelings  awake  right  desires  ? 
What  less  can  we  say  of  the  importance  of  so  training  the  future 
man  that  his  purposes  may  all  be  just  and  right.  And  above  all, 
how  can  we  say  too  much  of  the  need  of  an  education,  if  such  an 
education  be  possible,  which  shall  insure  the  man  perfect  command 
over  himself,  that  he  may  not  be  infirm  of  purpose  and  a  tool  of 
others  more  wicked  than  himself,  but  setting  himself  steadfastly,  to  do 
that  which  is  according  to  God's  will,  may  be  an  accepted  and  suc 
cessful  co-worker  with  the  Infinite  Power,  that  ever  out  of  evil  is 
educing  good  in  infinite  progression. 

What  do  our  schools  and  academies  and  colleges  effect  toward 
attaining  these  highest  ends  of  education,  this  aesthetic  develop- 


254  THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED. 

ment  of  tastes,  this  moral  control  of  the  desires  and  purposes,  this 
religious  sanctification  ?  Much,  I  grant ;  and  yet  nothing  in  com 
parison  with  what  shall  be  done  when  the  highest  Christian  philoso 
phy  and  culture  shall  have  triumphed  in  the  discovery,  and  embodi 
ment  in  practice,  of  the  true  system  of  public  education.  Much,  I 
grant ;  and  yet  very  little  with  a  distinct,  carefully  considered  plan 
of  action  in  reference  to  these  points,  very  little  with  the  acknowl 
edged  end  of  making  these  points  of  more  importance  than  the 
intellectual  development. 

I  know  the  practical  difficulties  which  surround  the  subject.  I 
know  the  danger  lest  in  attempting  to  cherish  virtue  you  cherish 
hypocrisy,  in  attempting  to  cultivate  morality  you  produce  formal 
ity,  and  in  seeking  to  refine  the  taste  you  produce  sentimentality. 
I  know  the  practical  difficulties,  and  have  seen  the  evil  results  of 
attempts  to  render  education  more  moral  and  more  religious. 

But  I  know  that  similar  difficulties  have  beset  also  every  attempt 
to  improve  the  intellectual  education  of  the  schools.  I  have  seen 
every  improved  method  of  teaching  the  ordinary  branches,  so 
abused  by  enthusiastic  and  partially  enlightened  teachers  as  to 
make  the  improvement  worse  than  the  old  method.  I  have  seen 
classes  in  school,  committing  to  memory  and  repeating  by  rote,  text 
books  which  were  written  for  the  express  purpose  of  forcing  the 
teacher  to  leave  the  text-book  and  take  to  the  subject.  And  I  can 
not  forget  that  a  hundred  thousand  copies  of  Peterson's  Familiar 
Science,  the  most  inaccurate  school-book  I  ever  saw,  have  been  used 
in  the  schools  of  this  country,  while  Chase's  Common  School  Arith 
metic,  the  best  text-book  on  Arithmetic  I  ever  saw,  lias  nearly  gone 
out  of  print.  Seeing  such  errors  and  difficulties  in  the  way  of  im 
proving  modes  of  intellectual  training,  and  yet  seeing  that,  on  the 
whole,  the  mode  of  teaching  is  improved,  I  can  not  be  wholly  dis 
couraged  with  regard  to  esthetic  and  moral  and  religious  education. 

And  now  having  given  a  rough  sketch  of  the  powers  of  the  human 
soul ; — the  power  of  perceiving  truth  through  outward  sense  and 
inward  intuition ;  the  power  reproducing  those  perceptions  in  mem 
ory,  and  combining  and  modifying  them  in  new  creations  of  the 
imagination ;  the  power  of  comparing  them  with  each  other,  and 
eliciting  new  truths  through  the  reason;  the  power  of  feeling  the 
impression  which  these  perceptions  make  upon  the  soul ;  the  power 
of  allowing  those  impressions  and  feelings  to  awaken  desire  or  dis 
gust,  by  holding  them  under  attention,  or  turning  the  attention  from 
them ;  the  power  of  cherishing  those  desires  until  they  ripen  into 
purposes  ;  the  power  of  pushing  the  purpose  into  execution  through 


THE  POWERS  TO  BE  EDUCATED.  255 

volition ;  having  given  this  rough  sketch  of  human  powers,  I  might 
go  on  to  show  that  it  would  afford  a  correct  basis  for  a  scheme  of 
education,  and  that  this  scheme  of  education,  carefully  developed, 
would  not  differ  in  its  intellectual  features  from  that  toward  which 
all  the  sound  thinkers  of  the  day  are  manifestly  tending. 

But  some  teachers  may  ask  me,  to  what  practical  end  is  this  dis 
course  ?  and  how  shall  we  as  individual  teachers  best  fulfil  our  func 
tions,  while  waiting  for  the  great  thinkers  of  the  profession  to  perfect 
the  future  course  of  instruction  ! 

I  answer  that  the  most  directly  practical  end  which  I  hoped  to  at 
tain,  was  to  give  you  a  just  sense  of  the  grandeur  of  the  work  in  which 
you  are  engaged ;  and  of  the  importance  of  tasking  your  best  powers  in 
a  calm  endeavor  to  decide  for  yourselves,  what  better  you  can  do  than 
you  are  now  doing.  The  field  before  each  one  of  you,  teachers,  if 
it  be  but  a  little  Monitou  school  of  a  dozen  scholars,  is  worthy  of 
the  best  efforts  you  can  make.  Make  those  efforts  not  with  feverish 
anxiety  lest  you  shall  not  succeed,  not  with  a  despairing  sense  of 
your  inability ; — much  lest  with  a  self  satisfied  conceit  of  your  supe 
riority  over  other  teachers ; — but  make  your  best  efforts  to  under 
stand  and  to  perform  your  duties,  in  the  calm  confidence  that  God, 
who  has  appointed  us  our  tasks  in  life,  knows  best  what  we  can  do, 
and  that  he  asks  of  us  only  that  we  should,  with  honest  sincerity, 
seek  to  do  our  best. 

Make  your  best  efforts  to  understand  your  duties.  The  field  of 
knowledge  is  open  to  you,  as  to  your  scholars,  and  you  can  in  no  way 
so  well  stimulate  them  to  learn,  and  prepare  yourself  to  teach,  as  by 
being  yourself  a  student, — enthusiastic  in  your  love  of  knowledge 
and  your  eagerness  to  gain  more.  Study  what  truths  are  to  be 
taught,  study  what  powers  are  to  be  developed,  study  what  duties 
and  opportunities  in  life  will  be  likely  to  be  opened  to  your  pupils. 
Study  human  nature  in  general,  and  study  the  individual  character 
of  each  pupil  under  your  charge. 

Then  whatever  be  the  system  of  instruction  which  your  State  Laws 
or  your  Educational  Board,  or  your  School  Committee,  may  force 
you  to  adopt,  you  can  make  it  flexible  and  living,  and  a  medium  of 
pouring  the  sacred  life  that  is  in  you,  into  the  hearts  of  your  pupils. 


256  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 


NOTE. 

The  incident  with  which  President  HILL  introduced  his  lecture,  led  to  the 
following  Correspondence. 

CHICAGO,  August  13,  1863 
Miss  ANGELICA  M.  Buss, — 

Respected  Lady : — On  the  3d  instant  a  company  of  gentlemen  and  ladies,  on 
their  way  to  the  annual  meeting  of  the  NATIONAL  TEACHEB8*  ASSOCIATION*, 
recently  held  in  this  city,  touched  at  the  North  Manitou  Island. 

During  the  brief  stay  of  the  party,  it  was  the  pleasure  of  some  to  make  your 
acquaintance,  and  learn  of  your  work  of  faith  and  love  among  the  children  of  the 
island. 

What  we  saw  and  heard  deeply  impressed  us  with  respect  and  love  for  the 
character  of  one  who,  under  great  embarrassment  and  self-sacrifice,  has  isolated 
herself  from  loved  friends  and  associations,  and  devoted  the  best  powers  of 
her  mind  to  the  instruction,  mental  culture,  and  educational  training  of  the 
young. 

Prompted  by  a  desire  to  honor  you  for  your  devotion  to  a  noble  work,  and  to 
show  our  interest  in  the  cause  of  popular  education,  the  party,  with  great  cheer 
fulness  and  unanimity,  raised  a  sum  of  money  with  which  to  purchase  an 
American  gold  watch,  to  present  to  you,  as  a  token  of  the  high  regard  and 
respect  they  have  for  you  and  the  cause  in  which  you  are  successfully  laboring 

Be  pleased  to  accept  this  testimonial  of  our  esteem,  with  assurance  of 
sympathy,  love,  and  prayer,  for  you  and  your  pupils. 

With  great  respect,  we  are  most  truly  yours, 

#  J.  W.  BULKLEY,  Chairman  of  the  Committee. 

REPLY  TO  THE  LETTER. 

NORTH  MANITOU  ISLAND,  August  25,  1863. 
MR.  J.  W.  BULKLEY,— 

Kind  Sir: — I  was  very  much  surprised  on  the  15th  instant  by  receiving  from 
you  a  letter  expressing  kind  feeling  toward  me;  also  a  more  substantial  tolcen 
of  esteem — a  gold  watch — the  gilt  of  a  party  of  gentlemen  and  ladies  who 
visited  my  school. 

The  magnitude  of  the  gift  and  the  kind  expressions  contained  in  your  com 
munication  have  almost  made  me  dumb  until  the  present  moment ;  but  I  must 
try  and  make  some  acknowledgment  for  your  kindness.  And  first,  permit  me 
to  say,  you  greatly  over-estimate  my  self-sacrifice,  for  it  is  indeed  a  great  pleasure 
for  me  to  instruct  the  young,  and  see  them  improve,  mentally,  morally,  and 
physically ;  and  what  gives  me  so  much  satisfaction  can  not  be  considered  a 
great  hardship. 

However,  I  am  greatly  pleased  to  receive  your  gift,  as  it  is  an  evidence  of 
your  interest  in  popular  instruction  and  education,  the  means  by  which  our 
liberties  must  be  perpetuated.  I  shall  ever  keep  it  by  me,  and  when  I  look  at 
it  shall  think  of  the  donors,  the  occasion  of  the  gift,  and  the  sympathy 
and  generous  feelings  which  prompted  you  and  your  associates  to  such 
liberality. 

I  shall  be  most  grateful  if  I  can  still  have  your  sympathy  and  advice :  and 
very  glad  to  hear  from  you,  from  time  to  time,  in  relation  to  the  cause  of  popular 
education,  a  subject  in  which  we  all  feel  so  deep  an  interest. 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

ANGELICA  M.  Buss. 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION-ITS  OBJECTS  AND  METHODS. 

INTRODUCTORY  DISCOURSE   BEFORE  THE  AMERICAN   INSTITUTE  OF  INSTRUCTION  AT 
BOSTON,    MASS,    IN   AUGUST,    1830. 

BY   FRANCIS   WAYLAND,   PRESIDENT   OF   BROWN   UNIVERSITY. 


IN  the  long  train  of  her  joyous  anniversaries,  New  England  has 
yet  beheld  no  one  more  illustrious  than  this.  We  have  assembled 
to-day,  not  to  proclaim  how  well  our  fathers  have  done,  but  to  in 
quire  how  we  may  enable  their  sons  to  do  better.  We  meet,  not 
for  the  purposes  of  empty  pageant,  nor  yet  of  national  rejoicing; 
but  to  deliberate  upon  the  most  successful  means  for  cultivating,  to 
its  highest  perfection,  that  invaluable  amount  of  intellect,  which 
Divine  Providence  has  committed  to  our  hands.  We  have  come 
up  here  to  the  city  of  the  Pilgrims,  to  ask  how  we  may  render  their 
children  most  worthy  of  their  ancestors  and  most  pteasing  to  their 
God.  We  meet  to  give  to  each  other  the  right  hand  of  fellowship 
in  carrying  forward  this  all  important  work,  and  here  to  leave  our 
professional  pledge,  that,  if  the  succeeding  generation  do  not  act 
worthily,  the  guilt  shall  not  rest  upon  those  who  are  now  the  In 
structors  of  New  England. 

Well  am  I  aware  that  the  occasion  is  worthy  of  the  choicest  effort 
of  the  highest  talent  in  the  land.  Sincerely  do  I  wish,  that  upon 
such  talent  the  duty  of  addressing  you  this  day  had  devolved. 
Much  do  I  regret  that  sudden  indisposition  has  deprived  me  of  the 
time  which  had  been  set  apart  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  present 
occasion,  and  that  I  am  only  able  to  offer  for  your  consideration 
such  reflections  as  have  been  snatched  from  the  most  contracted 
leisure,  and  gleaned  amid  the  hurried  hours  of  languid  convalescence. 
But  I  bring,  as  an  offering  to  the  cause  of  Education,  a  mind  deeply 
penetrated  with  a  conviction  of  its  surpassing  importance,  and  en 
thusiastically  ardent  in  anticipating  the  glory  of  its  ultimate  results. 
I  know,  then,  that  I  may  liberally  presume  upon  your  candor,  while 
I  rise  to  address  those,  to  very  many  of  whom  it  were  far  more  be 
seeming  that  I  quietly  and  humbly  listened. 

The  subject  which  I  have  chosen  for  our  mutual  improvement,  is, 
/  The  object  of  intellectual  education;  and  the  manner  in  which  that 
object  is  to  be  attained. 

I.  It  hath  pleased  Almighty  God  to  place  us  under  a  constitution 


258  INTELLECTUAL    EDUCATION. 

of  universal  law.  By  this  we  mean,  that  nothing,  either  in  the 
physical,  intellectual,  or  moral  world,  is  in  any  proper  sense  con 
tingent.  Every  event  is  preceded  by  its  regular  antecedents,  and 
followed  by  its  regular  consequents;  and  hence  is  formed  that  end 
less  chain  of  cause  and  effect  which  binds  together  the  innumerable 
changes  which  arc  taking  place  everywhere  around  us. 

When  we  speak  of  this  system  as  subjected  to  universal  law,  we 
mean  all  this ;  but  this  is  not  all  that  we  mean.  The  term  law,  in 
a  higher  sense,  is  applied  to  beings  endowed  with  conscience  and 
will,  and  then  there  is  attached  to  it  the  idea  of  rewards  and  punish 
ments.  It  is  then  used  to  signify  a  constitution  so  arranged,  that 
one  course  of  action  shall  be  inevitably  productive  of  happiness, 
And  another  course  shall  be  as  inevitably  productive  of  misery. 
/Now,  in  this  higher  sense  is  it  strictly  and  universally  true,  that  we 
I  are  placed  under  a  constitution  of  law.  Every  action  which  we  per 
form,  is  as  truly  amenable  as  inert  matter,  to  the  great  principles  of 
the  government  of  the  universe,  and  every  action  is  chained  to  the 
consequences  which  the  Creator  has  affixed  to  it,  as  unalterably  as 
any  sequence  of  cause  and  effect  in  physics.  And  thus,  with  equal 
eloquence  and  truth,  the  venerable  Hooker  has  said,  "  Of  Law,  there 
can  be  no  less  acknowledged,  than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosoin  of 
God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the  world  ;  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  do  her  homage,  the  very  least  as  feeling  her  care,  and  the  very 
greatest  as  not  exempted  from  her  power;  both  angels  and  men 
and  creatures  of  what  condition  soever,  though  each  in  different  sort 
and  manner,  yet  all  with  uniform  consent,  admiring  her  as  the 
mother  of  their  peace  and  joy." 

Such  a  constitution  having  been  established  by  a  perfectly  wise 
Creator,  it  may  be  easily  supposed  that  it  will  remain  unchangeable. 
His  laws  will  not  be  altered  for  our  convenience.  We  may  obey 
them  or  disobey  them,  we  may  see  them  or  not  see  them,  we  may 
be  wise  or  unwise,  but  they  will  be  rigidly  and  unalterably  enforced. 
Thus  must  it  ever  be,  until  we  have  the  power  to  resist  the  strength 
of  omnipotence. 

Again ;  it  is  sufficiently  evident  that  the  very  constitution  which 
God  has  established,  is,  with  infinite  wisdom  and  benevolence,  de 
vised  for  just  such  a  being,  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral,  as  man. 
By  obedience  to  the  laws  of  God,  man  may  be  as  happy  as  his  pre 
sent  state  will  allow.  Misery  is  always  the  result  of  a  violation  of 
some  of  the  laws  which  the  Creator  has  established.  Hence,  our 
great  business  here,  is,  to  hioio  and  obey  the  laws  of  our  Creator. 

That  part  of  man  by  which  we  know,  and,  in  the  most  important 
•ense,  bey  the  laws  of  the  Creator,  is  called  MIND.  I  use  the  word 


INTELLECTUAL    EDUCATION.  259 

in  its  general  sense,  to  signify,  not  merely  a  substance,  not  matter, 
capable  of  intellection,  but  one  also  capable  of  willing,  and  to  winch 
is  attached  the  responsibility  of  right  and  wrong  in  human  action. 
And,  still  further,  it  is  one  of  the  laws  of  mind,  that  increased  power 
for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  a  more  universal  disposition 
to  obedience,  may  be  the  result  of  the  action  of  one  mind'upon  an 
other,  or,  of  the  well-directed  efforts  of  the  individual  mind  itself. 

Without  some  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature,  it  is  evident  that 
man  would  immediately  perish.  But  it  is  possible  for  him  to  have 
only  so  much  knowledge  of  them  as  will  barely  keep  generation 
after  generation  in  existence,  without  either  adding  anything  to  the 
stock  of  intellectual  acquisition,  or  subjecting  to  his  use  any  of  the 
various  agents  which  a  bountiful  Providence  has  everywhere  scat 
tered  around,  for  the  supply  of  his  wants  and  the  relief  of  his 
necessities.  Such  was  the  case  with  the  Aborigines  of  our  country, 
and  such  had  it  been  for  centuries.  Such,  also,  with  but  very  few 
and  insignificant  exceptions,  is  the  case  in  Mohammedan  and  Pagan 
countries.  The  sources  of  their  happiness  are  few  and  intermit 
ting — those  of  their  misery  multiplied  and  perpetual. 

Looking  upon  such  nations  as  these,  we  should  involuntarily  ex 
claim,  What  a  waste  of  being,  what  a  loss  of  happiness,  do  we  be 
hold !  Here  are  intelligent  creatures,  placed  under  a  constitution 
devised  by  Infinite  Wisdom  to  promote  their  happiness.  The  very 
penalties  which  they  suffer,  are  so  many  proofs  of  the  divine  good 
ness — mere  monitions  to  direct  them  in  the  paths  of  obedience. 
And  besides  this,  they  are  endowed  with  a  mind  perfectly  formed 
to  investigate  and  discover  these  laws,  and  to  derive  its  highest 
pleasure  from  obeying  them.  Yet  that  mind,  from  want  of  culture, 
has  become  useless.  It  achieves  no  conquests.  It  removes  no  in 
felicities.  Here,  then,  must  the  remedy  be  applied.  This  immate 
rial  part  must  be  excited  to  exertion,  and  must  be  trained  to  obedi 
ence.  Just  so  soon  as  this  process  is  commenced,  a  nation  begins 
to  emerge  from  the  savage,  and  enter  upon  the  civilized  state.  Just 
in  proportion  to  the  freedom  and  the  energy  with  which  the  powers 
of  the  mind  are  developed,  and  the  philosophical  humility  with 
which  they  are  exercised,  does  a  people  advance  in  civilization.  Just 
in  proportion  as  a  people  is  placed  under  contrary  influences,  is  its 
movement  retrograde. 

The  science  which  teaches  us  how  to  foster  these  energies  of 
mind  is  the  science  of  Education.  In  few  words,  I  would  say,  the 
object  of  the  science  of  Education,  is,  to  render  mind  the  fittest  possi 
ble  instrument  for  DISCOVERING,  APPLYING,  or  OBEYING,  the  laws  un 
der  which  God  has  placed  the  universe. 


2 GO  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION. 

That  all  this  is  necessary,  in  order  to  carry  forward  the  human 
species  to  the  degree  of  happiness  which  it  is  destined,  at  some 
time  or  other,  to  attain,  may  be  easily  shown. 

The  laws  of  the  universe  must  be  discovered.  Until  they  are  dis 
covered,  we  shall  be  continually  violating  them  and  suffering  the 
penalty,  without  either  possibility  of  rescue  or  hope  of  alleviation. 
Hence  the  multitude  of  bitter  woes  which  ignorance  inflicts  upon  a 
people.  Hence  the  interest  which  every  man  should  take  in  the 
progress  of  knowledge.  Who  can  tell  how  countless  are  the  infeli 
cities  which  have  been  banished  from  the  world,  by  the  discovery 
of  the  simple  law  that  a  magnetized  needle,  when  freely  suspended, 
will  point  to  the  north  and  south  ! 

Nor  is  it  sufficient  that  a  law  be  discovered.  Its  relations  to  other 
laws  must  be  ascertained,  and  the  means  devised  by  which  it  may 
be  made  to  answer  the  purposes  of  human  want.  This  is  called  ap 
plication,  or  invention.  The  law  of  the  expansive  power  of  steam 
was  discovered  by  the  Marquis  of  Worcester,  in  1663.  It  remained, 
however,  for  the  inventive  power  of  Watt  and  Fulton,  more  than  a 
century  afterward,  to  render  it  subservient  to  the  happiness  of  man. 
From  want  of  skill  in  a  single  branch  of  this  department  of  mental 
labor,  the  human  race  has  frequently  been  kept  back  for  ages.  The 
ancients,  for  instance,  came  very  near  the  invention  of  ihe  printing 
press.  Tims  has  it  been  with  several  other  of  the  most  important 
inventions.  It  makes  a  thoughtful  man  sad,  at  the  present  day,  to 
observe  how  many  of  the  most  important  agents  of  nature  we  are 
obliged  to  expose  to  the  gaze  of  lecture-rooms,  without  being  able 
to  reveal  a  single  practical  purpose  for  which  they  were  created. 

But  this  is  not  all.  A  man  may  know  a  law  of  his  Creator,  and 
understand  its  application;  but  if  he  do  not  obey  it,  he  will  neither 
reap  the  reward,  nor  escape  the  penalty  which  the  Creator  has  an 
nexed  to  it.  Here  we  enter,  at  once,  into  the  mysterious  region  of 
human  will,  of  motive,  and  of  conscience.  To  examine  it  at. present 
is  not  my  design.  I  will  only  remark,  that  some  great  improvement 
is  necessary  in  this  part  of  our  nature,  before  we  can  ever  reap  the 
benefits  of  the  present  constitution  of  the  universe.  I  do  not  think 
that  any  philosopher  can  escape  the  conviction,  that  when  important 
truth  is  the  subject  of  inquiry,  we  neither  possess  the  candor  of 
judgment,  nor  the  humility  of  obedience,  which  befits  the  relations 
existing  between  a  creature  and  his  Creator.  In  proof  of  this,  it  is 
sufficient  to  refer  to  well  known  facts.  Galileo  suffered  the  venge 
ance  of  the  Inquisition,  for  declaring  the  sun  to  be  the  centre  of  the 
planetary  system !  How  slow  were  the  learned  in  adopting  the  dis 
coveries  of  Hervey  or  of  Newton !  Still  more  visible  is  this  ob- 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  261 

stinacy,  when  the  application  of  a  moral  law  is  clearly  discovered. 
Though  supported  by  incontrovertible  argument,  how  slowly  have 
the  principles  of  religious  toleration  gained  foothold  even  in  the 
civilized  world  !  After  the  slave  trade  had  been  proved  contrary  to 
every  principle  of  reason  and  conscience,  and  at  variance  with  every 
law  of  the  Creator,  for  nearly  twenty  years  did  Clarkson  and  his 
associates  labor,  before  they  could  obtain  the  act  for  its  abolition. 
And  to  take  an  illustration  nearer  home, — how  coolly  do  we  look  on 
and  behold  lands  held  by  unquestionable  charter  from  Almighty 
God,  in  defiance  of  an  hundred  treaties  by  which  the  faith  of  this 
country  has  been  pledged — in  violation  of  every  acknowledged  law, 
human  and  divine,  wrested  from  a  people,  by  whose  forbearance,  a 
century  ago,  our  fathers  were  permitted  to  exist !  I  speak  not  the 
language  of  party.  I  eschew  and  abhor  it ;  but  "  I  speak  with  the 
freedom  of  history,  and  I  hope  without  offence."  These  examples 
are  at  least  sufficient  to  show  us,  that  the  mind  of  man  is  not,  at 
present,  the  fittest  instrument  possible  for  obeying  the  law,',  of  his 
Creator,  and  that  there  is  need,  therefore,  of  that  science  which 
shall  teach  him  to  become  such  an  instrument. 

The  question  which  will  next  arise,  is  this  : — Can  these  things  be 
taught  ?  Is  it  practicable,  by  any  processes  which  man  oan  devise, 
to  render  mind  a  fitter  instrument  for  discovering,  applying  and 
obeying  the  laws  of  his  Creator?  We  shall  proceed,  in  the  next 
place,  to  show  that  all  this  is  practicable. 

1.  It  is  practicable  to  train  the  mind  to  greater  skill  in  discovery. 
A  few  facts  will  render  this  sufficiently  evident. 

It  will  not  be  denied  that  some  modes  of  thinking  are  better 
adapted  to  the  discovery  of  truth  than  others.  Those  trains  of 
thought  which  follow  the  order  of  cause  and  effect,  premises  and 
conclusion,  or,  in  general,  what  is  considered  the  order  of  the  under- 
Btanding,  are  surely  more  likely  to  result  in  discovery  than  those 
which  follow  the  order  of  the  casual  relations,  as  of  time,  place,  re 
semblance  and  contrast,  or,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  the  order  of 
the  imagination.  Discovery  is  the  fruit  of  patient  thought,  and  not 
of.  impetuous  combination.  Now  it  must  be  evident  that  mind,  di 
rected  in  the  train  of  the  understanding,  will  be  a  far  better  instru 
ment  of  discovery  than  if  under  the  guidance  of  the  imagination. 
And  it  is  evident  that  the  one  mode  of  thinking  may  be  as  well 
cultivated  as  the  other,  or  as  any  mode  whatsoever.  And  hence 
has  arisen  the  mighty  effect  which  Bacon  produced  upon  the  world. 
He  allured  men  from  the  weaving  of  day-dreams  to  the  employment 
of  their  reason.  Just  in  proportion  as  we  acquire  skill  in  the  use 
of  our  reason,  will  be  the  progress  of  truth. 


202  INTELLECTUAL    EDUCATION. 

Again  ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  in  consequence  of  the  teach 
ing  of  Bacon,  or,  in  other  words,  in  consequence  of  improvement 
in  education,  the  human  mind  has,  in  fact,  become  a  vastly  more 
skillful  instrument  of  discovery  than  ever  it  was  before.  In  proof 
of  this,  1  do  not  refer  merely  to  the  fact,  that  more  power  has  been 
gained  over  the  agents  of  nature,  and  that  they  have  been  made  to 
yield  a  greater  amount  of  human  happiness  to  the  human  race, 
within  the  last  one  hundred  years,  than  for  ten  times  that  period 
before.  This,  of  itself,  would  be  sufficient  to  show  an  abundant  in 
crease  of  intellectual  activity.  I  would  also  refer  to  the  fact  that 
several  of  the  most  remarkable  discoveries  have  been  made  by  dif 
ferent  men  at  the  same  time.  This  would  seem  to  show,  that  mind 
in  the  aggregate  was  moving  forward,  and  that  everything  with 
which  we  are  now  acquainted  must  soon  have  been  discovered,,  even 
if  it  had  eluded  the  sagacity  of  those  who  w«re  fortunate  enough  to 
observe  it.  This  shows  that  the  power  of  discovery  has  already 
been  in  some  degree  increased  by  education.  What  has  been  so 
auspiciously  begun,  can  surely  be  carried  to  far  greater  perfection. 

Again  ;  if  we  inquire  what  are  those  attributes  of  mind  on  which 
discovery  mainly  depends,  I  think  we  shall  find  them  to  be  patient 
observation,  acute  discrimination,  and  cautious  induction.  Such 
were  the  intellectual  traits  of  Newton,  that  prince  of  modern  philoso 
phers.  Now  it  is  evident  that  these  attributes  can  be  cultivated,  as 
well  as  those  of  taste  or  imagination.  Hence,  it  seems  as  evident 
that  the  mind  may  be  trained  to  discovery,  that  is,  that  mind  may 
be  so  disciplined  as  to  be  able  to  ascertain  the  particular  laws  of 
any  individual  substance,  as  that  any  other  thing  may  be  done. 

2.  By  application  or  invention,  I  mean  the  contriving  of  those  com- 
j  binations  by  which  the  already  discovered  laws  of  the  universe  may  be 
I  rendered  available  to  the  happiness  of  man.  It  is  possible  to  render 
\the  mind  a  fitter  instrument  for  the  accomplishment  of  this 


In  proof  of  this  remark,  I  may  refer  you  to  the  two  first  con 
siderations  to  which  I  have  just  adverted  ;  namely,  that  some  trains 
of  thought  are  more  productive  of  invention  than  others,  and  that, 
by  following  those  trains,  greater  progress  has,  within  a  few  years, 
been  made  in  invention,  than  within  ten  times  that  period  before. 

It  is  proper,  however,  to  remark,  that  the  qualities  of  mind  on 
which  invention  depends,  are  somewhat  dissimilar  from  those  neces 
sary  to  discovery.  Invention  depends  upon  accuracy  of  knowledge 
in  detail,  as  well  as  in  general,  and  a  facility  for  seizing  upon  distant, 
and  frequently  recondite  relations.  Discovery  has  more  to  do  with 
the  simple  quality,  invention  with  the  complex  connections.  Dis- 
*-/-very  views  truth  in  the  abstract;  invention  views  it  either  in  con- 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  0(33 

nection  with  other  truth,  or  in  its  relation  to  other  beings.  Hence 
has  it  so  frequently  taken  place,  that  philosophers  have  been  unable 
to  avail  themselves  of  their  own  discoveries ;  or,  in  other  words, 
that  the  powers  of  discovery  and  of  invention  are  so  seldom  com* 
bined  in  the  same  individual.  In  one  thing,  however,  they  agree. 
Both  depend  upon  powers  of  mind  capable  of  cultivation  ;  and, 
therefore,  both  are  susceptible  of  receiving  benefit  beyond  any  as 
signable  degree,  by  the  progress  of  education. 

3.  The  mind  may  be  rendered  a  fitter  instrument  for  obeying  the 
laws  of  the  universe.  This  will  be  accomplished,  when  men,  first, 
are  better  acquainted  with  the  laws  of  the  universe,  and  second, 
when  they  are  better  disposed  to  obey  them.  That  both  of  these 
may  be  accomplished,  scarcely  needs  confirmation. 

For,  first,  I  surely  need  not  consume  your  time  to  prove,  that  a 
much  greater  amount  of  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  the  universe 
might  be  communicated  in  a  specified  time,  than  is  communicated 
at  present.  Improvement  in  this  respect  depends  upon  two  princi 
ples ; — first,  greater  skill  may  be  acquired  in  teaching;  and  second, 
the  natural  progress  of  the  sciences  is  toward  simplification.  As 
they  are  improved,  the  more  proximate  relations  of  things  are  dis 
covered,  the  media  are  rendered  clearer,  and  the  steps  in  the  illus 
tration  of  truth  less  numerous.  As  a  man  knows  more  of  the  laws 
•of  his  Creator,  he  can  surely  obey  them  better.  • 

And,  secondly,  those  dispositions  which  oppose  our  nftek  and 
humble  obedience,  may  be  corrected.  Candor  may  be  made  to  take 
the  place  of  prejudice,  and  envy  may  be  exchanged  for  a  generous 
ardor  after  truth.  This  a  good  teacher  frequently  accomplishes 
now.  And  that  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  does  present  a  most  sur 
prising  cure  for  those  dispositions,  which  oppose  the  progress  of 
truth  and  interfere  with  our  obedience  to  the  moral  laws  of  our  be 
ing,  no  one,  who,  at  the  present  day,  looks  upon  the  human  race 
with  the  eye  of  a  philosopher,  can  with  any  semblance  of  candor 
venture  to  deny. 

It  would  not  be  difficult,  did  time  permit,  by  an  examination  of 
the  various  laws,  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral,  under  which  we 
are  placed,  to  show  that  the  principles  which  I  have  been  endeavor 
ing  to  illustrate,  are  universal,  and  apply  to  every  possible  action  of 
the  most  eventful  life.  It  could  thus  be  made  to  appear  that  all  the 
happiness  of  man  is  derived  from  discovering,  applying,  or  obeying 
the  laws  of  his  Creator,  and  that  all  his  misery  is  the  result  of  igno 
rance  or  disobedience  ;  and  hence,  that  the  good  of  the  species  can  be 
permanently  promoted,  and  permanently  promoted  only  by  the  ac 
complishment  of  that  which  I  have  stated  to  be  the  object  of  educatirn. 


2(J4  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION 

I  have  thus  far  endeavored  to  show,  from  onr  situation  as  just 
such  creatures,  namely,  under  laws  of  which  we  come  into  the  world 
ignorant,  and  laws  which  can  only  be  known  by  a  mind  possessed 
of  acquired  power,  that  there  is,  in  our  present  state,  the  need  of 
such  a  science  as  that  of  education.  I  have  endeavored  to  show 
what  is  its  object,  and  also  to  show  that  that  object  may  be  accom 
plished.  I  will  now  take  leave  of  this  part  of  the  subject,  with  a  few 
remarks  upon  the  relation  which  this  science  sustains  to  other  sciences. 

1.  If  the  remarks  already  made  have  the  least  foundation  in  truth, 
we  do  not  err  in  claiming  for  education  the  rank  of  a  distinct  science. 
It  has  its  distinct  subject,  its  distinct  object,  and  is  governed  by  its 
own  laws.     And,  moreover,  it  has,  like  other  sciences,  its  corres 
ponding  art, — the  art  of  teaching.     Now  if  this  be  so,  we  would 
ask  how  any  man   should  understand  this  science,  any  more  than 
that  of  mathematics  or  astronomy,  w.ithout  ever  having  studied  it, 
or  having  even  thought  about  it?     If  there  be  anv  such  art  as  the 
art  of  teaching,  we  ask  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  a  man  shall  be 
considered  fully  qualified  to  exercise   it,  without  a  day's  practice, 
when  a  similar  attempt  in  any  other  art  would  expose  him  to  ridicule? 
Henceforth,  let  the  ridicule  be  somewhat  more  justly  distributed. 

2.  The  connections  of  this  science  are  more  extensive  than  those 
of  any  other.     Almost  any  one  of  the  other  sciences  may  flourish 
independently  of  the  rest.     Rhetoric  may  be  carried  to  high  perfec 
tion,  whilst  the  mathematics  are  in  their  infancy.     Physical  science 
may  advance,  whilst  the  science  of  interpretation  is  stationary.    No 
science,  however,  can  be  independent  of  the  science  of  education. 
By  education  their  triumphs  are  made  known ;  by  education  alono 
can  they  be  multiplied. 

/  Hence,  thirdly,  it  is  upon  education  that  the  progress  of  all  other 
/sciences  depends.  A  science  is  a  compilation  of  the  laws  of  the 
'  universe  on  one  particular  subject.  Its  progress  is  marked  by  the 
number  of  these  laws  which  it  reveals,  and  the  multiplicity  of  their 
relations  which  it  unfolds.  Now  we  have  before  shown  that  the 
number  of  laws  which  are  discovered,  will  be  in  proportion  to  the 
skill  of  mind,  the  instrument  which  is  to  discover  them.  Hence, 
just  in  proportion  to  the  progress  of  the  science  of  education,  will 
be  the  power  which  man  obtains  over  nature,  the  extent  of  his 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  the  universe,  and  the  abundance  of  means 
of  happiness  which  he  enjoys. 

If  this  be  so,  it  would  not  seem  arrogant  to  claim  for  education 
the  rank  of  the  most  important  of  the  sciences,  excepting  only  the 
science  of  morals.  And,  hence,  we  infer,  that  it  presents  subjects 
vast  enough,  and  interests  grave  enough,  to  task  the  highest  effort 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  2 Co 

of  the  most  gifted  intellect,  in  the  full  vigor  of  its  powers.  Is  it  not 
so  ?  If  it  be  so,  on  what  principle  of  common  sense  is  it,  that  a 
man  is  considered  good  enough  for  a  teacher,  because  he  has  most 
satisfactorily  proved  himself  good  for  no  one  thing  else  ?  Why  is 
it,  that  the  utter  want  of  sufficient  health  to  exercise  any  other  pro 
fession,  is  frequently  the  only  reason  why  a  man  should  be  thrust 
into  this,  which  requires  more  active  mental  labor  in  the  discharge 
of  its  duties,  than  any  other  profession  whatsoever  ?  Alas !  it  is  not 
by  teachers  such  as  these  that  the  intellectual  power  of  a  people  is 
to  be  created.  To  hear  a  scholar  say  a  lesson,  is  not  to  educate 
him.  He  who  is  not  able  to  leave  his  mark  upon  a  pupil,  never 
ought  to  have  one.  Let  it  never  be  forgotten,  that,  in  the  thrice  re 
splendent  days  of  the  intellectual  glory  of  Greece,  teachers  were  in 
high  places.  Isocrates,  Plato,  Zeno,  and  Aristotle  were,  without 
question,  stars  of  by  very  far  the  first  magnitude,  in  that  matchless 
constellation,  which  still  surrounds  with  undiminished  effulgence  the 
name  of  the  city  of  Minerva. 

And,  lastly,  if  the  science  of  education  be  thus  important,  is  it  not 
worthy  of  public  patronage  ?  Knowledge  of  every  sort  is  valuable 
in  a  community,  very  far  beyond  what  it  costs  to  produce  it.  Hence 
it  is  for  the  interest  of  every  man  to  furnish  establishments  by  which 
nowledge  can  be  increased.  Of  the  manner  in  which  this  should 
be  afforded,  it  belongs  to  political  economists  to  treat.  Let  me 
suggest  only  a  very  few  hints  on  the  subject.  Books  are  the  re 
positories  of  the  learning  of  past  ages.  Longer  time  than  that  of 
an  individual's  life,  and  greater  wealth  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  teach 
ers,  are  required  to  collect  them  in  numbers  sufficient  for  extensive 
usefulness.  The  same  may  be  said  of  instruments  for  philosophical 
research.  Let  these  be  furnished,  and  furnished  amply.  Let  your 
instructors  have  the  use  of  them,  if  you  please,  gratuitously ;  and 
if  you  do  not  please,  not  so,  and  then,  on  the  principles  which 
govern  all  other  labor,  let  every  teacher,  like  every  other  man,  take 
care  of  himself.  Give  to  every  man  prominent  and  distinct  indi 
viduality./  Remove  all  the  useless  barriers  which  shelter  him  from 
the  full  ar/d  direct  effect  of  public  opinion.  Let  it  be  supposed,  that, 
by  becoming  a  teacher,  he  has  not  lost  all  pretensions  to  common 
sense ;  and  that  he  may  possibly  know  as  much  about  his  own  busi 
ness  as  those,  who,  by  confession,  know  nothing  at  all  about  it.  In 
a  word,  make  teaching  the  business  of  men,  and  you  will  have  men 
to  do  the  business  of  teaching.  I  know  not  that  the  cause  of  edu 
cation,  so  far  as  teachers  are  concerned,  requires  any  other  patronage. 

I  come  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  subject,  which,  I  am  aware, 
it  becomes  me  to  treat  with  all  possible  brevity. 


OOQ  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION. 

II.  In  what  manner  shall  mind  be  thus  rendered  a  fitter  instru 
ment  to  answer  the  purposes  of  its  creation  ? 

To  answer  this  question,  let  us  go  back  a  little.  We  have  shown 
that  the  present  constitution  of  things  is  constructed  for  man,  and 
that  man  is  constructed  for  the  present  constitution.  As  mind,  then, 
is  the  instrument  by  which  he  avails  himself  of  the  laws  of  that 
constitution,  it  may  be  supposed  that  it  was  endowed  with  all  the 
powers  necessary  to  render  it  subservient  to  his  best  interests. 
Were  it  possible,  therefore,  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  give  it 
any  additional  faculties.  All  that  is  possible,  is,  to  cultivate  to 
higher  perfection  those  faculties  which  exist,  or  to  vary  their  rela 
tions  to  each  other.  To  cultivate  to  the  utmost  the  original  facul 
ties  of  the  mind,  is  to  render  it  the  fittest  possible  instrument  for  dis- 
ovcring,  applying,  and  obeying  the  laws  of  its  creation. 

This  is,  however,  an  answer  to  the  question  in  the  abstract,  and 
without  any  regard  to  time.  But  the  question  to  us,  is  not  an  ab 
stract  question ;  it  has  regard  to  time.  That  is  to  say,  we  do  not 
ask  simply  what  is  the  best  mode  of  cultivating  mind,  but  what  is 
the  best  mode  of  doing  it  now,  when  so  many  ages  have  elapsed, 
and  so  many  of  the  laws  of  the  universe  have  been  discovered. 
Much  knowledge  has  already  been  acquired  by  the  human  race,  and 
this  knowledge  is  to  be  communicated  to  the  pupil. 

All  this  every  one  sees  at  first  glance  to  be  true.  Nearly  all  the 
time  spent  in  pupilage,  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  is 
in  fact  employed  in  the  acquisition  of  those  laws  which  have  been 
already  discovered.  Without  a  knowledge  of  them,  education 
would  be  almost  useless.  Without  it,  there  could  evidently  be  no 
progressive  improvement  of  the  species.  Education,  considered  in 
this  light  alone,  "lias  very  many  and  very  important  ends  to  accom 
plish.  It  is  desirable  that  the  pupil  should  be  taught  Jhwoughly-f 
that  is,  that  he  should  have  as  exact  and  definite  a  knowledge  as 
possible  of  the  law  and  of  its  relations.  It  is  desirable  that  he  be 
taught  permanently^  i\\&i  is,  that  the  truth  communicated  be  so  as 
sociated  with  his  other  knowledge,  that  the  lapse  of  time  will  not 
easily  erase  it  from  his  memory.  It  is  important,  also,  that  nojnojrs 
time  be  consumed  in  the  process  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  He 
who  occupies  two  years  in  teaching  what  might  as  welT  be  taught 
with  a  little  more  industry  in  one  year,  does  his  pupil  a  far  greater 
injury  than  would  be  done  by  simply  abridging  his  life  by  a  year. 
He  not  only  abstracts  from  his  pupil's  acquisition  that  year's  im 
provement,  but  all  the  knowledge  which  would  have  been  the  fruit 
of  it  for  the  remainder  of  his  being. 

If,  then,  all  that  portion  of  our  time  which  is  devoted  to  educa- 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  267 

tion  must  be  occupied  in  acquiring  the  laws  of  the  universe,  how 
shall  opportunity  be  afforded  for  cultivating  the  original  powers  of 
the  mind  ?  I  answer,  an  all-wise  Creator  has  provided  for  this  neces 
sity  of  our  intellectual  nature.  His  laws,  in  this,  as  in  every  other 
case,  are  in  full  and  perfect  harmony. 

For,  first,  the  original  powers  of  the  mind  are  cultivated  by  use. 
This  law,  I  believe,  obtains  in  respect  to  all  our  powers,  physical,  in 
tellectual,  and  moral.  But  it  must  be  by  the  use  of  each  several 
faculty.  The  improvement  of  the  memory  does  not,  of  necessity, 
strengthen  the  power  of  discrimination ;  nor  does  the  improvement 
of  natural  logical  acuteness,  of  necessity,  add  sensibility  to  the  taste. 
The  law  on  this  subject  seems  to  be,  that  every  several  faculty  is 
strengthened  and  rendered  more  perfect  exactly  in  proportion  as  it 
is  subjected  to  habitual  and  active  exercise. 

And,  secondly,  it  will  be  found  that  the  secret  of  teaching  most 
thoroughly,  permanently,  and  in  the  shortest  time,  that  is,  of  giving 
--^the  pupil  in  a  given  time  the  greatest  amount  of  knowledge,  con 
sists  in  so  teaching  as  to  give  the  most  active  exercise  to  the  original 
faculties  of  the  mind.     So  that  it  is  perfectly  true,  that  if  you  wished 
•\      so  to  teach  as  to  make  the  mind  the  fittest  possible  instrument  for 
]  1     discovering,   applying,  and  obeying   the  laws  of  the  Creator,  you 
!  1\    would  so  teach  as  to  give  to  the  mind  the  greatest  amount  of  knowl- 
L   \  edge ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  if  you  wished  so  to  teach  as  to  give  to 
\   \  a  pupil,  in  a  given  time,  the  greatest  amount  of  knowledge,  you 
1  would  so  teach  as  to  render  his  mind  the  fittest  instrument  for  dis 
covering  applying  and  obeying  the  laws  of  its  Creator. 

I  do  not  forget  that  the  discussion  of  the  practical  business  of 
teaching  is,  on  this  occasion,  committed  to  other  hands.  You  will, 
however,  I  trust,  allow  me  to  suggest  here,  one  or  two  principles 
which  seem  to  me  common  to  all  teaching,  and  which  are  in  their 
nature  calculated  to  produce  the  results  to  which  I  have  referred. 

1.  Let  a  pupil  understand  every  thing  that  it  is  designed  to  teach 
him.  If  he  can  not  understand  a  thing  this  year,  it  was  not  designed 
by  his  Creator  that  he  should  learn  it  this  year.  But  let  it  not  be 
f  forgotten,  that  precisely  here  is  seen  the  power  of  a  skillful  teacher. 
It  is  his  business  to  make  a  pupil,  if  possible,  understand.  Very 
few  things  are  incapable  of  being  understood,  if  they  be  reduced  to 
their  ultimate  elements.  Hence  the  reason  why  the  power  of  ac- 
\  curate  and  natural  analysis  is  so  invaluable  to  a  teacher.  By  sim 
plification  and  patience,  it  is  astonishing  to  observe  how  easily  ab 
struse  subjects  may  be  brought  within  the  grasp  of  even  the  facul. 
ties  of  children.  Let  a  teacher,  then,  first  understand  a -subject  him 
self.  Let  him  know  that  he  understands  it.  Let  him  reduce  it  to 


2C8  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION. 

its  natural  divisions  and  its  simplest  elements.     And  then,  let  him 
see  that  his  pupils  understand  it.     This  is  the  first  step. 

2.  I  would  recommend  the  frequent  repetition  of  whatever  has 
been  acquired.  For  want  of  this,  an  almost  incalculable  amount  of 
invaluable  time  is  annually  wasted.  Who  of  us  has  not  forgotten 
far  more  than  he  at  present  knows?  What  is  understood  to-day, 
may  with  pleasure  be  reviewed  to-morrow.  If  it  be  frequently  re 
viewed,  it  will  be  associated  with  all  our  other  knowledge,  and  be 
thoroughly  engraven  on  the  memory.  If  it  be  laid  aside  for  a 
month  or  two,  it  will  be  almost  as  difficult  to  recover  it  as  to  acquire 
a  new  truth  ;  and  it  is,  moreover,  destitute  of  the  interest  derived 
only  from  novelty.  If  this  be  the  case  with  us  generally,  I  need  not 
aay  how  peculiarly  the  remark  applies  to  the  young. 
•  But  lastly,  and  above  all,  let  me  insist  upon  the  importance  of 
universal  practice  of  every  thing  that  is  learned.  No  matter 
whether  it  be  a  rule  in  arithmetic,  or  a  rule  in  grammar,  a 
principle  in  rhetoric,  or  a  theorem  in  the  mathematics;  as  soon  as 
it  is  learned  and  understood,  let  it  be  practiced.  Let  exercises 
be  so  devised  as  to  make  the  pupil  !  "familiar  with  its  application. 
Let  him  construct  exercises  himself.  Let  him  not  leave  them  until 
he  feels  that  he  understands  both  the  law  and  its  application,  and  is 
able  to  make  use  of  it  freely  and  without  assistance.  The  mind 
never  will  derive  power  in  any  other  way.  Nor  will  it,  in  any  other 
way,  attain  to  the  dignity  of  certain,  and  practical,  and  available 
science. 

So  far  as  we  have  gone,  then,  we  have  endeavored  to  show  that 

/  the  business  of  a  teacher  is  so  to  communicate  knowledge  as  most 

constantly  and  vigorously  to  exercise  the  original  faculties  of  the 

mind.     In  this  manner  he  will  both  convey  the  greatest  amount  of 

,  instruction,  and  create  the  largest  amount  of  mental  power. 

I  intended  to  confirm"  these  remarks  by  a  reference  to  the  modes  of 
teaching  some  of  the  most  important  branches  of  science.  But  I 
fear  that  I  should  exhaust  your  patience,  and  also  that  I  might  an 
ticipate  what  will  be  much  better  illustrated  by  those  who  will  come 
after  me.  I  shall,  therefore,  conclude  by  applying  these  considera- 
tiOnitothe  elucidjationofsomc  subjects^)?  general  importance. 

l/lTThese  remarks  be  true,  they  show  us  in  what  manner  text- 


o  ._fht  t-i  l»c  conMnictcil.  Tln-v  >li"iil«l  contain  a  clear  c\lii-' 
bition  of  the  subject,  its  limits  and  relations.  They  should  be  ar 
ranged  after  the  most  perfect  method,  so  that  the  pupil  may  easily 
survey  the  subject  in  all  its  ramifications;  and  should  be  furnished 
with  examples  and  questions  to  illustrate  every  principle  which  they 
contain.  It  should  be  the  design  of  the  author  to  make  such 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  269 

as  could  neither  be  studied  unless  the  pupil  understood  it,  nor  taught 
unless  the  instructor  understood  it.  Such  books,  in  every  depart 
ment,  are,  if  I  mistake  not,  very  greatly  needed. 

If  this  be  true,  what  are  we  to  think  of  many  of  those  school- 
books  which  are  beginning  to  be  very  much  in  vogue  amongst  us? 
There  first  appears,  perhaps,  an  abridgment  of  a  scientific  text 
book.  Then,  lest  neither  instructor  nor  pupil  should  be  able  to  un 
derstand  it,  without  assistance,  a  copious  analysis  of  each  page  or 
chapter  or  section,  is  added  in  a  second  and  improved  edition. 
Then,  lest,  after  all,  the  instructor  should  not  know  what  questions 
should  be  asked,  a  copious  list  of  these  is  added  to  a  third  and  still 
more  improved  edition.  The  design  of  this  sort  of  work  seems  to 
be  to  reduce  all  mental  exercise  to  a  mere  act  of  the  memory,  and 
then  to  render  the  necessity  even  for  the  use  of  this  faculty  as  small 
as  may  be  possible.  Carry  the  principle  but  a  little  farther,  and  an 
automaton  would  answer  every  purpose  exactly  as  well  as  an  in 
structor.  Let  us  put  away  all  these  miserable  helps,  as  fast  as  possi 
ble,  I  pray  you.  Let  us  never  forget  that  the  business  of  an  in 
structor  begins  where  the  office  of  a  book  ends.  It  is  the  action  of 
mind  upon  mind,  exciting,  awakening,  showing  by  example  the 
power  of  reasoning  and  the  scope  of  generalization,  and  rendering 
it  impossible  that  the  pupil  should  not  think  ;  this  is  the  noble  and 
the  ennobling  duty  of  an  instructor. 

2.  These  remarks  will  enable  us  to  correct  an  error  which  of  late 
has  done  very  much  evil  to  the  science  of  education.     Some  years 
since,  I  know  not  when,  it  was  supposed,  or  we  have  said  it  was 
supposed,  that  the  whole  business  of  education  was  to  store  tfce 
mind  with  facts.     Dugald  Stewart,  I  believe,  somewhere  remarks) 
that  the  business  of  education,  on  the  contrary,  is  to  cultivate  the  I 
original  faculties.     Hence  the  conclusion  was  drawn  that  it  mattered  \\ 
not  what  you  taught,  the %great  business  was  to  strengthen  the  facul-M 
ties.     Now  this  conclusion  has  afforded  to  the  teacher  a  most  con-( 
venient  refuge  against  the  pressure  of  almost  every  manner  of 
tack.     If  you  taught  a  boy  rhetoric,  and  he  could  not  write  English, 
it  was  sufficient  to  say  that  the  grand  object  was  not  to  teach  the 
structure  of  sentences,  but  to  strengthen  the   faculties.     If  you 
taught  him  the  mathematics,  and  he  did  not  understand  the  Rule 
of  Three,  and  could  not  tell  you  how  to  measure  the  height  of  his 
village  steeple,  it  was  all  no  matter, — the  object  was  to  strengthen 
his  faculties.     If,  after  six  or  seven  years  of  study  of  the  languages, 
he  had  no  more  taste  for  the  classics  than  for  Sanscrit,  and  sold  his 
books  to  the  highest  bidder,  resolved  never  again  to  look  into  them, 
it  was  all  no  matter, — he  had  been  studying,  to  strengthen  his  facul- 


270  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION 

ties,  while  by  this  very  process  his  faculties  have  been  enfeebled  al 
most  to  annihilation. 

Now,  if  I  mistake  not,  all  this  reasoning  is  false,  even  to  absurdity. 
Granting  that  the  improvement  of  the  faculties  is  the  most  import 
ant  business  of  instruction,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  the  only 
business.  What !  will  a  man  tell  me  that  it  is  of  no  consequence 
whether  or  not  I  know  the  laws  of  the  universe  under  which  I  am 
constituted  ?  Will  he  insult  me,  by  pretending  to  teach  them  to 
me  in  such  a  manner  that  I  shall,  in  the  end,  know  nothing  about 
them  ?  Are  such  the  results  to  which  the  science  of  education 
leads  ?  Will  a  man  pretend  to  illuminate  me  by  thrusting  himself, 
year  after  year,  exactly  in  my  sunshine  ?  No ;  if  a  man  profess  to 
teach  me  the  laws  of  my  Creator,  let  him  make  the  thing  plain,  let 
him  teach  me  to  remember  it,  and  accustom  me  to  apply  it.  Other 
wise,  let  him  stand  out  of  the  way,  and  allow  me  to  do  it  for 
myself. 

But  this  doctrine  is  yet  more  false ;  for  even  if  it  be  true,  that  it 
matters  not  what  is  taught,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  it  is  no  mat 
ter  how  it  is  taught.  The  doctrine  in  question,  however,  supposes 
that  the  faculties  are  to  be  somehow  strengthened  by  "  going  over,*' 
as  it  is  called,  a  book  or  a  science,  without  any  regard  to  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  done.  The  faculties  are  strengthened  by  the  use  of 
the  faculties ;  but  this  doctrine  has  been  quoted  to  shield  a  mode  of 
teaching,  in  which  they  were  not  used  at  all ;  and  hence  has  arisen 
a  great  amount  of  teaching,  which  has  had  very  little  effect,  either 
in  communicating  knowledge,  or  giving  efficiency  to  mind. 

Let  us,  then,  come  to  the  truth  of  the  question.  It  is  important 
what  I  study  ;  for  it  is  important  whether  or  not  I  know  the  laws 
of  my  being,  and  it  is  important  that  I  so  study  them,  that  they 
shall  be  of  use  to  me.  It  is  also  important  that  my  intellectual 
faculties  be  improved,  and  therefore  important  that  an  instructor  do 
not  so  employ  my  time  as  to  render  them  less  efficient 

3.  Closely  connected  with  these  remarks  is  the  question,  which 
has  of  late  been  so  much  agitated,  respecting  the  study  of  the  an 
cient  languages  and  the  mathematics.  On  the  one  part,  it  is  urged 
that  the  study  of  the  languages  is  intended  to  cultivate  the  taste 
and  imagination,  and  that  of  the  mathematics  to  cultivate  the  under 
standing.  On  the  other  part,  it  is  denied  that  these  effects  arc  pro 
duced  ;  and  it  is  asserted  that  the  time  spent  in  the  study  of  them 
is  wasted.  Examples,  as  may  be  supposed,  are  adduced  in  abund 
ance  on  both  sides;  but  I  do  not  know  that  the  question  is  at  all 
decided.  Let  us  see  whether  any  thing  that  we  have  said  will  throw 
any  light  upon  it. 


INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION.  271 

I  think  it  can  be  conclusively  proved,  that  the  classics  could  be  so 
'taught  as  to  give  additional  acuteness  to  the  discrimination,  more 
delicate  sensibility  to  the  taste,  and  more  overflowing  richness  to 
the  imagination.  So  much  as  this,  must,  we  think,  be  admitted.  If, 
then,  it  be  the  fact  that  these  effects  are  not  produced — and  I  think 
we  must  admit  that  they  are  not,  in  any  such  degree  as  might  rea 
sonably  be  expected — should  we  not  conclude  that  the  fault  is  not 
in  the  classics,  but  in  our  teaching?  Would  not  teaching  them 
better  be  the  sure  way  of  silencing  the  clamor  against  them  ? 

I  will  frankly  confess  that  I  am  sad,  when  I  reflect  upon  the  con 
dition  of  the  study  of  the  languages  among  us.  We  spend  frequent 
ly  six  or  seven  years  in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  yet  who  of  us  writes, — 
still  more,  who  of  us  speaks  them  with  facility?  I  am  sure  there 
must  be  something  wrong  in  the  mode  of  our  teaching,  or  we  should 
accomplish  more.  That  can  not  be  skillfully  clone,  which,  at  so 
great  an  expense  of  time,  produces  so  very  slender  a  result.  MiltonV 
affirms,  that  what  in  his  time  was  acquired  in  six  or  seven  years, ) 
might  have  been  easily  acquired  in  one.  I  fear  that  we  have  not/ 
greatly  improved  since. 

Again,  we  very  properly  defend  the  study  of  the  languages  on  the 
ground  that  they  cultivate  the  taste,  the  imagination,  and  the  judg 
ment.  But  is  there  any  magic  in  the  name  of  a  classic  ?  Can  this 
be  done  by  merely  teaching  a  boy  to  render,  with  all  clumsiness,  a 
sentence  from  another  language  into  his  own  ?  Can  the  faculties  of 
which  we  have  spoken,  be  improved,  when  not  one  of  them  is  ever 
called  into  action  ?  No.  When  the  classics  are  so  taught  as  to  cul 
tivate  the  taste  and  give  vigor  to  the  imagination, — when  all  that  is 
splendid  and  beautiful  in  the  works  of  the  ancient  masters,  is 
breathed  into  the  conceptions  of  our  youth, — when  the  delicate  wit 
of  Flaccus  tinges  their  conversation,  and  the  splendid  oratory  of 
Tully,  or  the  irresistible  eloquence  of  Demosthenes,  is  felt  in  the 
senate  and  at  the  bar — I  do  not  say  that  even  then  we  may  not  find 
something  more  worthy  of  being  studied, — but  we  shall  then  be  pre 
pared,  with  a  better  knowledge  of  the  facts,  to  decide  upon  the 
merits  of  the  classics.  The  same  remarks  may  apply,  though  per 
haps  with  diminished  force,  to  the  study  of  the  mathematics.  If, 
on  one  hand,  it  be  objected  that  this  kind  of  study  does  not  give 
that  energy  to  the  powers  of  reasoning  which  has  frequently  been 
expected,  it  may,  on  the  other  hand,  be  fairly  questioned  whether  it 
be  correctly  taught.  The  mathematics  address  the  understanding. 
But  they  may  be  so  taught  as  mainly  to  exercise  the  memory.  If 
they  be  so  taught,  we  shall  look  in  vain  for  the  anticipated  result. 
I  suppose  that  a  student,  after  having  been  taught  one  class  of  geo- 


272  INTELLECTUAL  EDUCATION. 

metrical  principles,  should  as  much  be  required  to  combine  them  in 
the  forms  of  original  demonstration,  as  that  he  who  has  been  taught 
a  rule  of  arithmetic  should  be  required  to  put  it  into  various  and 
diversified  practice.  It  is  thus  alone,  that  we  shall  acquire  that 
Svvaius  avaXunxTj,  the  mathematical  power  which  the  Greeks  con 
sidered  of  more  value  than  the  possession  of  any  number  of  prob 
lems.  When  the  mathematics  shall  be  thus  taught,  I  think  there 
will  cease  to  be  any  question,  whether  they  add  acuteness,  vigor  and 
originality  to  mind. 

/  I  have  thus  endeavored,  very  briefly,  to  exhibit  the  object  of  edu- 
/^ation,  and  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  the  means  by  which  that  ob- 
/  ject  is  to  be  accomplished.     I  fear  that  I  have  already  exhausted 
your  patience.     I  will,  therefore,  barely  detain  you  with  two  addi 
tional  remarks. 

1.  To  the  members  of  this  Convention  allow  me  to  say,  Gentle 
men,  you  have  chosen  a  noble  profession.  What  though  it  do  not 
confer  upon  us  wealth  ? — it  confers  upon  us  a  higher  boon,  the  pri 
vilege  of  being  useful.  AVhat  though  it  lead  not  to  the  falsely 
named  heiyhts  of  political  eminence  ? — it  leads  us  to  what  is  far  bet 
ter,  the  sources  of  real  power;  for  it  renders  intellectual  ability  ne 
cessary  to  our  success.  I  do  verily  believe  that  nothing  so  cultivates 
the  powers  of  a  man's  own  mind  as  thorough,  generous,  liberal,  and 
indefatigable  teaching.  But  our  profession  has  rewards,  rich  re 
wards,  peculiar  to  itself.  WThat  can  be  more  delightful  to  a  philan 
thropic  mind,  than  to  behold  intellectual  power  increased  a  hundred 
fold  by  our  exertions,  talent  developed  by  our  assiduity,  passions 
eradicated  by  our  counsel,  and  a  multitude  of  men  pouring  abroad 
over  society  the  lustre  of  a  virtuous  example,  and  becoming  meet  to 
be  inheritors  with  the  saints  in  light — and  all  in  consequence  of  the 
direction  which  we  have  given  to  them  in  youth  ?  I  ask  again, 
what  profession  has  any  higher  rewards? 

Again,  we  at  this  day  are  in  a  manner  the  pioneers  in  this 
work  in  this  country.  Education,  as  a  science,  has  scarcely  yet  been 
naturalized  among  us.  Radical  improvement  in  the  means  of  edu 
cation  is  an  idea  that  seems  but  just  to  have  entered  into  men's 
minds.  It  becomes  us  to  act  worthily  of  our  station.  Let  us  by  all 
the  means  in  our  power  second  the  efforts  and  the  wishes  of  the 
public.  Let  us  see  that  the  first  steps  in  this  course  are  taken 
wisely.  This  country  ought  to  be  the  best  educated  on  the  face  of 
the  earth.  By  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  we  can  do  much  towards 
the  making  of  it  so.  God  helping  us,  then,  let  us  make  our  mark  on 
the  rising  generation. 


REMARKS 


or 
DR.  WILLIAM  E.  CHANNING  ON  EDUCATION  AND  TEACHERS. 


IN  1833,  Dr.  Charming  brought  the  aid  of  his  personal  influence  and 
powerful  pen,  to  the  service  of  the  teacher.  In  an  article  in  the  Christian 
Examiner,  for  November,  1833.  written  for  the  express  purpose  of  com 
mending,  the  Annals  of  Education,  and  the  great  subject  to  which  it  was 
devoted,  under  the  editorial  charge  of  William  C.  Woodbridge.  to  the 
attention  of  the  best  class  of  minds  in  the  community,  the  following  views 
are  presented  as  to  the  importance  of  institutions  for  the  education  of 
teachers,  and  the  true  nature  and  dignity  of  the  office: 

"  We  are  not  aware  that  in  this  country  a  single  school  for  teachers  is  supported 
at  the  public  expense.  How  much  would  be  gained,  if  every  state  should  send  one 
of  its  most  distinguished  citizens  to  examine  the  modes  of  teaching  at  home  and  in 
Kurope,  and  should  then  place  him  at  the  head  of  a  seminary  for  the  formation  of 
teachers. " 

****** 

"  There  is  no  office  higher  than  that  of  a  teacher  of  youth  ;  for  there  is  nothing 
on  earth  so  precious  as  the  mind,  soul,  character  of  the  child.  No  office  should 
be  regarded  with  greater  respect.  The  first  minds  in  the  community  should  be 
encouraged  to  assume  it.  Parents  should  do  all  but  impoverish  themselves,  to  in 
duce  such  to  become  the  guardians  and  guides  of  their  children.  To  this  good,  all 
their  show  and  luxury  should  be  sacrificed.  Here  they  should  be  lavish,  whilst 
they  straiten  themselves  in  every  thing  else.  They  should  wear  the  cheapest 
clothes,  live  on  the  plainest  food,  if  they  can  in  no  other  way  secure  to  their  fami 
lies  the  best  instruction.  They  should  have  no  anxiety  to  accumulate  property  for 
their  children,  provided  they  can  place  them  under  influences  which  will  awaken 
their  faculties,  inspire  them  with  pure  and  high  principles,  and  fit  them  to  bear  a 
manly,  useful,  and  honorable  part  in  the  world.  No  language  can  express  the 
cruelty  or  folly  of  that  economy,  which,  to  leave  a  fortune  to  a  child,  starves  his  in 
tellect,  impoverishes  his  heart." 

****** 

"  We  know  not  how  society  can  be  aided  more  than  by  the  formation  of  a  body 
of  wise  and  efficient  educators.  We  know  not  any  class  which  would  contribute  so 
much  to  the  stability  of  the  state,  and  to  domestic  happiness.  Much  as  we  respect 
the  ministry  of  the  gospel,  we  believe  that  it  must  yield  in  importance  to  the  office 
of  training  the  young.  In  truth,  the  ministry  now  accomplishes  little,  for  want  of 
that  early  intellectual  and  moral  discipline,  by  which  alone  a  community  can  bo 
prepared  to  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood,  to  comprehend  the  instructions  of  the 
pulpit,  to  receive  higher  and  broader  views  of  duty,  and  to  apply  general  principles 
to  the  diversified  details  of  life.  A  body  of  cultivated  men,  devoted,  with  their 
whole  hearts,  to  the  improvement  of  education,  and  to  the  most  effectual  training 
of  the  young,  would  work  a  fundamental  revolution  in  society.  They  would  leaven 
the  community  with  just  principles." 

****** 

<l  We  maintain  that  higher  ability  is  required  for  the  office  of  an  educator  of  the 
young,  than  for  that  of  a  statesman.  The  highest  ability  is  that  which  penetrates 
farthest  into  human  nature,  comprehends  the  mind  in  all  its  capacities,  traces  out 
the  laws  of  thought  and  moral  action,  understands  the  perfection  of  human  nature, 
and  how  it  may  be  approached,  understands  the  springs,  motives,,  applications,,  by 


274  DR-   CIIANNING  ON  EDUCATION  AN'D  TEACHERS 

which  the  child  is  to  be  roused  to  the  most  vigorous  and  harmonious  action  of  all  its 
faculties,  understands  its  perils,  and  knows  how  to  blend  and  modify  the  influences 
which  outward  circumstances  exert  on  the  youthful  mind.  The  speculations  of 
statesmen  are  shallow,  compared  with  these.  It  is  the  chief  function  of  the  states 
man  to  watch  over  the  outward  interests  of  a  people  ;  that  of  the  educator  to 
quicken  its  soul.  The  statesman  must  study  and  manage  the  passions  and  pre 
judices  of  die  community;  the  educator  must  study  the  essential,  the  deepest,  the 
loftiest  principles  of  human  nature.  The  statesman  works  with  coarse  instruments 
for  coarse  ends ;  the  educator  is  to  work  by  the  most  refined  influences  oil  that  de- 
lifate,  ethereal  essence — the  immortal  soul." 

****** 

"  One  great  cause  of  the  low  estimation  in  which  the  teacher  is  now  held,  may 
be  found  in  narrow  views  of  education.  The  multitude  think,  that  to  educate  a 
child,  is  to  crowd  into  its  mind  a  given  amount  of  knowledge — to  teach  the 
mechanism  of  reading  and  writing — to  load  the  memory  with  words — to  prepare  a 
for  the  routine  of  a  trade.  No  wonder,  then,  that  they  think  almost  every 
body  tit  to  teach.  The  true  end  of  education,  is  to  unfold  and  direct  aright  our 
whole  nature.  Its  office  is  to  call  forth  power  of  every  kind — power  of  thought, 
affection,  will,  and  outward  action  ;  power  to  observe,  to  reason,  to  judge,  to  con 
trive  ;  power  to  adopt  good  ends  firmly,  and  to  pursue  them  efficiently  ;  power  to 

» crn  ourselves,  and  to  influence  others  ;  power  to  gain  and  to  spread  happiness. 
r  is  but  an  instrument ;  education  is  to  teach  its  best  use.  The  intellect  was 
created,  not  to  receive  passively  a  few  words,  dates,  facts,  but  to  be  active  for  the 
acquisition  of  truth.  Accordingly,  education  should  labor  to  inspire  a  profound  love 
of  truth,  and  to  teach  the  processes  of  investigation.  A  sound  logic,  by  which  we 
mean  the  science  or  art  which  instructs  us  in  the  laws  of  reasoning  and  evidence, 
in  the  true  methods  of  inquiry,  and  in  the  sources  of  false  judgments,  is  an  essen 
tial  part  of  a  good  education.  And  yet,  how  little  is  done  to  teach  the  right  use  of 
the  intellect,  in  the  common  modes  of  training  either  rich  or  poor.  As  a  general 
rule,  the  young  are  to  be  made,  as  far  as  possible,  their  own  teachers — the  dis 
coverers  of  truth — the  interpreters  of  nature — the  framers  of  science.  They  are 
to  be  helped  to  help  themselves.  They  should  be  taught  to  observe  and  study  the 
world  in  which  they  live,  to  trace  the  connections  of  events,  to  rise  from  particular 
facts  to  general  principles,  and  then  to  apply  these  in  explaining  new  phenomena. 
Such  is  a  rapid  outline  of  the  intellectual  education,  which,  as  far  as  possible,  should 
be  given  to  all  human  beings  ;  and  with  this,  moral  education  should  go  hand  in  hand. 
In  proportion  as  the  child  gains  knowledge,  he  should  be  taught  how  to  use  it  well — 
how  to  turn  it  to  the  good  of  mankind.  He  should  study  the  world  as  God's 
world,  and  iis  the  sphere  in  which  he  is  to  form  interesting  connections  with  his 
fellow-creatures.  A  spirit  of  humanity  should  be  breathed  into  him  from  all  his 
studies.  In  teaching  geography,  the  physical  and  moral  condition,  the  wants,  ad 
vantages,  and  striking  peculiarities  of  different  nations,  and  the  relations  of  climate, 
seas,  rivers,  mountains,  to  their  characters  and  pursuits,  should  be  pointed  out,  so 
as  to  awaken  an  interest  in  man  wherever  he  dwells.  History  should  be  constantly 
used  to  exercise  the  moral  judgment  of  the  young,  to  call  forth  sympathy  with  the 
fortunes  of  the  human  race,  and  to  expose  to  indignation  and  abhorrence  that 
selfish  ambition,  that  passion  for  dominion,  which  has  so  long  deluged  the  earth 
with  blfK>d  and  woe.  And  not  only  should  the  excitement  of  just  moral  feeling  be 
proposed  in  every  study.  The  science  of  morals  should  form  an  important  part  of 
every  child's  instruction.  One  branch  of  ethics  should  be  particularly  insisted  on 
ly  the  government.  Every  school,  established  by  law,  should  be  specially  bound 
to  teach  the  duties  of  the  citizen  to  the  state,  to  unfold  the  principles  of  free  insti 
tutions,  and  to  train  the  young  to  an  enlightened  patriotism.  From  these  brief  and 
imperfect  views  of  the  nature  and  ends  of  a  wise  education,  we  learn  the  dignity 

the  profession  to  which  it  is  entrusted,  and  the  importance  of  securing  to  it  th'e 
minds  of  the  community." 

****** 

"  We  have  «aid  that  it  is  the  office  of  the  teacher  to  call  into  vigorous  action  the 
mind  of  the  Child.  He  must  do  more.  He  must  strive  to  create  a  thirst,  an  in 
satiable  craving  for  knowledge,  to  give  animation  to  study  and  make  it  a  pleasure, 
and  thus  to  communicate  an  impulse  which  will  endure  when  the  instructions  of  the 


/ 


DR.  CIIANNING  ON  EDUCATION  AND  TEACHERS.  275 

the  school  are  closed^  The  mark  of  a  good  teacher  is,  not  only  that  he  produces  | 
great  effort  in  his  pupils,  but  that  he  dismisses  them  from  his  care,  conscious  of  hav 
ing  only  laid  the  foundation  of  knowledge,  and  anxious  and  resolved  to  improve  / 
themselves^  One  of  the  sure  signs  of  the  low  state  of  instruction  among  us  is,  that 
the  young,  on  leaving  school,  feel  as  if  the  work  of  intellectual  culture  were  done, 
and  give  up  steady,  vigorous  effort  for  higher  truth  and  wider  knowledge.  Our 
daughters  at  sixteen,  and  our  sons  at  eighteen  or  twenty,  have  finished  their  edu 
cation.  The  true  use  of  a  school  is,  to  enable  and  dispose  the  pupil  to  learn  through 
life  5  and  if  so,  who  docs  not  see  that  the  office  of  teacher  requires  men  of  enlarged 
and  liberal  minds,  and  of  winning  manners — in  other  words,  that  it  requires  as  cul 
tivated  men  as  can  be  found  in  society.  If  to  drive  and  to  drill  were  the  chief  duties 
of  an  instructor — if  to  force  into  the  mind  an  amount  of  lifeless  knowledge — to  make 
the  child  a  machine — to  create  a  repugnance  to  books,  to  mental  labor,  to  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge — were  the  great  objects  of  the  school-room,  then  the 
teacher  might  be  chosen  on  the  principles  which  now  govern  the  school-committees 
in  no  small  part  of  our  country.  Then  the  man  who  can  read,  write,  cypher,  and 
whip,  and  will  exercise  his  gifts  at  the  lowest  price,  deserves  the  precedence  which 
he  now  too  often  enjoys.  But  if  the  human  being  be  something  more  than  a  block 
or  a  brute — if  he  have  powers  which  proclaim  him  a  child  of  God,  and  which  were 
given  for  noble  action  and  perpetual  progress,  then  a  better  order  of  things  should 
begin  among  us,  and  truly  enlightened  men  should  be  summoned  to  the  work  of 
education." 

In  an  address  delivered  at  the  Odeon,  in  Boston,  on  the  28th  of  Feb., 
1837,  he  thus  advocates  the  establishment  of  an  institution  for  the  pro 
fessional  training  of  teachers : 

JT  "  We  need  an  institution  for  the  formation  of  better  teachers ;  and,  until  this 
f  I  step  is  taken,  we  can  make  no  important  progress.     The  most  crying  want  in  this 
I    commonwealth  is  the  want  of  accomplished  teachers.     We  boast  of  our  schools  •, 
V  but  our  schools  do  comparatively  little,  for  want  of  educated  instructors.     Without 
\good  teaching,  a  school  is  but  a  name.     An  institution  for  training  men  to  train  the 
young,  would  be  a  fountain  of  living  waters,  sending  forth  streams  to  refresh  pres 
ent  and  future  ages.     As  yet,  our  legislators  have  denied  to  the  poor  and  laboring 
classes  this  principal  means  of  their  elevation.      We  trust  they  will  not  always 
prove  blind  to  the  highest  interest  of  the  state. 

r  We  want  better  teachers,  and  more  teachers,  for  all  classes  of  society — for  rich 
/and  poor,  for  children  and  adults.     We  want  that  the  resources  of  the  community 
I  should  be  directed  to  the  procuring  of  better  instructors,  as  its  highest  concern. 
\  One  of  the  surest  signs  of  the  regeneration  of  society  will  be,  the  elevation  of  the 
wt  of  teaching  to  the  highest  rank  in  the  community.     When  a  people  shall  learn 
that  its  greatest  benefactors  and  most  important  members,  are  men  devoted  to  the 
liberal  instruction  of  all  its  classes — to  the  work  of  raising  to  life  its  bui'ied  intellect, 
it  will  have  opened  to  itself  the  path  of  true  glory.     This  truth  is  making  its  way. 
Socrates  is  now  regarded  as  the  greatest  man  in  an  age  of  great  men.     The  name 
of  king  has  grown  dim  before  that  of  apostle.     To  teach,  whether  by  word  or 
tion,  is  the  highest  function  on  earth. 

Nothing  is  more  needed,  than  that  men  of  superior  gifts,  and  of  benevolent 
spirit,  should  devote  themselves  to  the  instruction  of  the  less  enlightened  classes  in 
the  great  end  of  life — in  the  dignity  of  their  nature — in  their  rights  and  duties — in 
the  history,  laws,  and  institutions  of  their  country — in  the  philosophy  of  their  em 
ployments — in  the  laws,  harmonies,  and  productions  of  outward  nature,  and,  espe 
cially,  in  the  art  of  bringing  up  childi-en  in  health  of  body,  and  in  vigor  and  purity 
"  mind.     We  need  a  new  profession  or  vocation,  the  object  of  which  shall  bo  to 
wake  up  the  intellect  in  those  spheres  where  it  is  now  buried  in  habitual  slumber. 
r    We  want  a  class  of  liberal-minded  instructors,  whose  vocation  it  shall  be,  to 
(place  the  views  of  the  most  enlightened  minds  within  the  reach  of  a  more  and 
Snore  extensive  portion  of  their  fellow-creatures.      The  wealth  of  a  community 
should  flow  out  like  water  for  the  preparation  and  employment  of  such  teachers — 
for  enlisting  powerful  and  generous  minds  in  the  work  of  giving  impulse  to  their 
race. 


276  DR.  CIIANNING  ON   EDUCATION  AND  TEACHERS. 

Nor  let  it  be  said  that  men,  able  and  disposed  to  carry  on  this  work,  must  not  be 
looked  for  in  such  a  world  as  ours.  Christianity,  which  has  wrought  so  many 
miracles  of  beneficence — which  has  sent  forth  so  many  apostles  and  martyrs — so 
many  Howards  and  Clarksons,  can  raise  up  laborers  for  this  harvest  also.  Nothing 
is  needed  but  a  new  pouring  out  of  the  spirit  of  Christian  love — nothing  but  a  new 
comprehension  of  the  brotherhood  of  the  human  race,  to  call  forth  efforts  which 
seem  impossibilities  in  a  self-seeking  and  self-indulging  age." 

From  the  outset,  Dr.  Charming  exhibited  great  interest  in  the  estab 
lishment  of  the  Board  of  Education,  and  the  permanent  organization  of 
the  Normal  Schools.  In  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Mann,  in  August,  1837, 
congratulating  him  and  the  commonwealth  on  his  acceptance  of  the  office 
of  Secretary  of  the  Board,  he  says : 

"  You  could  not  find  a  nobler  station.  Government  has  no  nobler  one  to  give. 
You  must  allow  me  to  labor  under  you  according  to  my  opportunities.  If  at  any 
time  I  can  aid  you,  you  must  let  me  know,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  converse  with  you 
always  about  your  operations.  "When  will  the  low,  degrading  party  quarrels  of  the 
country  cease,  and  the  better  minds  come  to  think  what  can  be  done  toward  a  sub 
stantial,  generous  improvement  of  the  community  ?  '  My  ear  is  pained,  my  very 
soul  is  sick,'  with  the  monotonous,  yet  furious  clamors  about  currency,  banks,  <X:c., 
when  the  spiritual  interests  of  the  community  seem  hardly  to  be  recognized  as 
having  any  reality. 

If  we  can  but  turn  the  wonderful  energy  of  this  people  into  a  right  channel, 
what  a  new  heaven  and  earth  must  be  realized  among  us  !  And  I  do  not  despair. 
Your  willingness  to  consecrate  yourself  to  this  work,  is  a  happy  omen.  You  do 
not  stand  alone,  or  form  a  rare  exception  to  the  times.  There  must  be  many  to  be 
touched  by  the  same  truths  which  arc  stirring  you." 

A  few  months  afterward,  he  attended,  at  Taunton,  one  of  the  series 
of  county  conventions,  which  Mr.  Mann  held,  in  pursuance  of  the  plan 
of  the  Board,  to  attract  attention  to  the  improvement  of  common  schools, 
and  took  part  in  the  proceedings  by  submitting  and  advocating  a  reso 
lution  affirming  the  immediate  and  pressing  necessity  of  public  and  legis 
lative  action  in  behalf  of  common  education.  We  make  a  few  extracts 
from  a  newspaper  report : 

"  We  are  told  that  this  or  that  man  should  have  an  extensive  education ;  but, 
thayanother,  who  occupies  a  lower  place  in  society,  needs  only  a  narrow  one  :  that 
th/5  governor  of  a  state  requires  a  thorough  education,  while  the  humble  mechanic 
has  need  only  to  study  his  last  and  his  leather.     But  why  should  not  the  latter, 
lough  pursuing  an  humble  occupation,  be  permitted  to  open  his  eyes  on  the  lights 
>f  knowledge  ?     Has  he  not  a  soul  of  as  great  capacity  as  the  former?     Is  he  not 
sustaining  the  same  relations  as  a  parent,  a  citizen,  a  neighbor,  and  as  a  subject  of 
fJod's  moral  government  ?     To  educate  a  child  is,  in  fact,  a  greater  work  than  to 
>nn  the  duties  of  a  governor.^  What  is  it?     It  is  to  take  the  direction  of  mind, 
to  cultivate  the  powers  of  thought,  and  to  teach  the  duties  which  we  owe  to  God 
,  and  to  our  neighbor.     Can  a  parent  teach  his  child  these  duties,  unless  he  has 
/learned  them  himself?     Every  one,  no  matter  what  is  his  occupation  or  place, 
I  needs  an  education,  in  order  that  he  may  have  the  proper  use  of  his  powers,  and  be 
^enabled  to  improve  them  through  life. 

/^Somc  say,  were  these  views  of  education  to  prevail,  there  would  be  little  or  no 

/work  done— manual  labor  would  fail.     But  for  the  purpose  of  working  effectually, 

|    one  should  be  intelligent;  he  will  bring  the  more  to  pass,  because  he  labors  for 

I    some  known  object,  and  is  stimulated  by  motives  which  he  understands  and  feels. 

'        We  want  worthy  laborers,  who  exalt  themselves  while  they  benefit  others.     The 

circumstances  in  which  they  are  placed,  are  fitted  to  call  forth  their  mental  powers, 

to  awaken   thought,  and  to  impress  {hem  with  their  responsibilities.     They  are 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

BY   HORACE   MANN,    LL.D., 
Late  Secretary  of  the  Mass.  Board  of  Education,  and  President  of  Antioch  College,  Ohio. 


ALL  labor  is  delightful  or  irksome ;  noble  or  ignoble ;  and  right  or 
wrong  in  the  sight  of  God,  according  to  the  quality  of  the  motive  that 
prompts  its  performance.  That  the  moral  quality  of  an  action  is 
always  determined  by  the  nature  of  the  motive  that  begets  it  is  a 
truism.  But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  truth  which  is  contained  in 
that  truism;  the  perseverance,  the  sustaining  and  uplifting  energy 
with  which  we  prosecute  a  purpose :  the  joy  or  loathing  that  wings  or 
bemires  our  steps,  in  whatever  we  undertake,  depend  upon  the  motive 
that  inspires  us.  Motive  may  hallow  the  most  servile  or  desecrate 
the  most  sacred  employment ;  may  elevate  into  piety  the  menial  office 
of  washing  a  Savior's  feet,  or  profane  into  perfidy  and  murder  the 
privilege  of  saluting  the  Savior  with  a  kiss. 

Every  body  knows  that  the  scale  of  motive  is  infinite  in  extent. 
It  reaches  upward  to  God,  who  is  at  the  moral  zenith ;  and  it  sinks 
to  the  moral  nadir  of  all  that  is  anti-god-like.  Some  motives  are 
born  of  nature,  and  are  what  are  called  spontaneous.  Some  are  the 
offspring  of  a  cultivated  intellect,  and  others  of  a  moral  and  religious 
education.  In  cases  of  high  necessity,  nature  prepares  special  mo 
tives  to  meet  special  exigencies.  In  the  brute  creation,  the  IOA'C  of  the 
young  lies  dormant,  until  awakened  by  the  birth  of  their  own  offspring, 
but  as  soon  as  that  event  occurs,  there  is  sure  to  flame  up  the  blind, 
resistless  orgasm  of  maternal  love.  I  have  seen  a  barn-yard  fowl 
fly  defiantly  at  a  railroad  locomotive  with  its  attendant  train,  for 
daring  to  invade  her  walks  when  she  clucked  forth  her  chickens.  I 
have  had  the  most  timid  and  wild  of  all  our  wild-fowl, — the  partridge, 
fly  in  my  face  when  accidentally  obtruding  upon  her  brood,  in  a  wood 
land  ramble.  There  is  something  which  seems  far  more  heroic  and 
poetic,  in  the  scream  and  swoop  of  the  eagle,  when  her  nest  is  invaded, 
than  in  her  loftiest  sunward  flights  ;  and  the  lioness  bears  about  in  her 
breast  a  latent  magazine  of  rage,  which  nature  stored  there  for  the 
protection  of  her  whelps.  A  mother  is  transfigured,  when  her  babe  is 


278  T1IE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

in  peril.  Fearlessly  she  climbs  mountain  heights,  or  plunges  into 
ocean  depths.  During  a  child's  sickness,  her  spirit  seems  to  perform 
the  miracle  of  abrogating  or  suspending  the  laws  of  the  body.  She 
can  labor  without  rest,  watch  without  sleep,  subsist  without  food. 
An  exaltation  of  motive  works  the  seeming  miracles. 

There  are  other  motives  which  exist  to  some  extent  in  all  men,  at 
all  times;  but  they  are  variously  combined,  and  they  operate  with 
various  degrees  of  intensity.  According  to  their  several  natures,  they 
form  the  character  and  determine  the  destiny  of  their  possessor. 
What  made  Columbus  hold  on  in  his  course,  while  all  his  crew  mutinied, 
and  while  nature  herself,  acting  through  the  magnet  which  she  had 
lent  him  as  a  guide,  seemed  to  remonstrate  against  his  audacity? 
What  upheld  those  self-exiles,  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  New  England, 
as  they  went  from  England  to  Ley  den,  and  from  Ley  den  to  Plymouth 
Rock,  but  a  motive  that  was  founded  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages  ?  In 
fine,  motive  determines  every  thing.  It  makes  the  same  external  act 
or  course  of  conduct,  high  or  low,  joyous  or  painful,  sacred  or  profane. 
It  gives  fertility  to  our  life,  or  smites  it  with  barrenness.  It  makes  a 
king  on  his  throne  tremble,  or  a  martyr  on  his  scaffold  triumph. 

Before  considering  the  motives  by  which  you  as  teachers  should  be 
animated,  I  deem  it  proper  to  lay  open  for  your  inspection,  my  own 
motives  for  addressing  you  on  this  subject. 

I  come  before  you,  my  friends,  feeling  an  unspeakable  interest  in 
your  personal  advancement  and  professional  success.  If  there  be  any 
class  of  persons  toward  whom  my  heart  yearns  with  a  tender,  gushing, 
and  deathless  affection,  it  is  the  teachers  of  our  youth.  My  nerves 
are  intertwined  with  their  nerves;  my  heart  thrills  or  throbs  with 
theirs;  and  so  close  is  the  affinity  I  feel  for  them,  that  their  good  or 
ill  fortune  is  matter  of  personality  to  me.  If  I  have  any  earthly 
ambition,  it  is  that  which  can  be  gratified  only  by  their  success;  and 
all  the  high  hopes  which  I  do  avowedly  entertain  of  a  more  glorious 
future  for  the  human  race,  are  built  upon  the  elevation  of  the  teacher's 
profession  and  the  enlargement  of  the  teacher's  usefulness.  What 
ever  ground  of  confidence  there  may  be  for  the  perpetuation  of  our 
civil  and  religious  liberties;  whatever  prospect  of  the  elevation  of 
our  posterity;  whatever  faith  in  the  general  Christianization  of  the 
world ; — these  aspirations  and  this  faith  depend  upon  teachers,  more 
than  upon  any,  more  than  upon  all  other  human  instrumentalities 
united.  And  if  in  the  councils  of  God,  there  be  a  gracious  purpose 
of  restoring  his  lost  image  to  the  human  race,  I  believe  that  he  will 
choose  and  anoint  the  teachers  of  youth  among  the  choicest  of  His 
ministers  for  the  holy  work.  In  addressing  teachers,  therefore,  I  feel 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  279 

that  I  stand  upon  holy  ground ;  for  I  am  in  the  august  presence  of  the 
highest  interests,  mortal  and  immortal ; — I  am  in  the  midst  of  the 
eternal  principles  of  moral  life  and  moral  death.  God's  law,  human 
accountability,  the  unending  consequences  of  our  conduct,  encompass 
me  about.  Amid  these  awful  concernments,  the  most  splendid  of  earih's 
objects  fade  into  dimness;  the  most  magnificent  of  earthly  ambitions 
wane  and  recede,  and  I  am  admonished,  as  with  no  mortal  voice,  to 
speak  alike  in  the  love  and  in  the  fear  of  truth. 

This,  therefore,  my  friends,  is  no  occasion  for  flattery.  I  come  not 
here  to  feast  praise-loving  hearts  with  honeyed  words,  or  to  sing 
lullabies  over  disquieted  consciences.  If  the  worm  gnaws  in  any 
breast,  let  it  gnaw,  until  it  shall  eat  out  the  very  pith  and  core  of 
vanity  and  egotism.  If  the  fire  burns,  let  it  not  be  quenched,  until 
the  dross  shall  be  purged  from  the  gold.  If  there  be  a  noble-hearted 
teacher  here  present,  I  know  that  he  or  she  would  rebuke  me  if  I 
should  spend  the  passing  hour  in  magnifying  his  rights,  forgetful  of  his 
duties;  if  I  should  extol  the  dignity  of  his  profession,  as  though  he 
had  created  it,  instead  of  being  obligated  by  it;  or  in  telling  him  that 
because  he  grasped  the  implement  of  Solomon  in  his  hand,  he,  there 
fore,  must  have  the  wisdom  of  Solomon  in  his  head.  As  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  faithful  physician  to  probe  a  wound  to  the  bottom,  though 
the  patient  does  flinch ;  so  it  is  the  office  of  the  faithful  friend  to  un 
mask  any  low  or  unworthy  motive  which  may  lurk  in  the  heart  of  his 
friend.  Would  that  I  could  so  unfold  our  responsibilities  to  the  rising 
generation,  and  our  duties  to  heaven,  that  each  one  of  us  should  clothe 
himself  in  the  sackcloth  of  humility,  and  cry  out  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  "Woe  is  me,  that  in  performing  the  great  work  which  the 
Lord  has  committed  to  my  hands,  I  have  been  so  unprofitable  a 
servant." 

In  considering  the  motives  by  which  teachers  should  be  governed, 
I  shall  begin  with  the  lowest. 

I  maintain  that  it  is  not  only  right  and  proper  for  a  teacher,  but 
that  it  is  his  duty  also,  to  have  reference  to  the  recompense  of  reward; 
I  mean  pecuniary  reward,  or  in  the  vernacular,  dollars  and  cents.  In 
this,  as  in  every  other  vocation,  the  workman  is  worthy  of  his  hire. 
To  say  that  in  proportion  as  a  work  is  invested  with  high  and  sacred 
attributes,  it  is  therefore  to  go  unpaid  for,  transcends  transcendental 
ism.  When  it  shall  be  found  that  a  man's  natural  appetites  for  food 
and  beverage  shall  die  out,  one  after  another,  as  he  enlists  in  more 
sacred  callings,  it  will  be  good  evidence  that  a  life  devoted  to  holy 
labor  should  forego  those  natural  supplies  which  it  no  longer  needs. 
When  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  with  a  family  to  be  educated,  can 


280  TIIE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVT3. 

subsist,  as  the  chameleon  was  once  said  to  do,  on  the  air;  when  a 
missionary  to  the  Arctic  regions  can  keep  his  blood  at  the  temperature 
of  98°,  without  clothing  or  shelter;  or  when  an  apostle,  or  one  greater 
than  an  apostle,  can  sequester  himself  from  all  worldly  cares  and 
pursuits,  and  devote  his  life  to  training  up  children  in  the  way  they 
should  go,  and  the  ravens  shall  bring  him  his  food  and  raiment;  then 
I  shall  believe  that  all  our  teachers  ought  to  do,  as  some  of  them  are 
now  almost  compelled  to  do — work  for  nothing  and  find  themselves. 
But  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  the  experience  is  universal  in  our  times, 
that  a  healthy  stomach,  after  a  strict  abstinence  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
hours,  will  crave  food,  however  pure  the  conscience  may  be ;  or  in 
other  words,  a  conscience  void  of  offence  will  not  replenish  a  stomach 
void  of  nourishment.  So  a  missionary,  sent  naked  to  Iceland  or 
Spitzbergen,  will  freeze,  however  ardent  his  benevolence;  and  the 
most  exalted  piety  will  not  be  a  sufficiently  tenacious  cement  to  hold 
body  and  soul  together,  without  a  little  alloy  of  animal  food;  or  at 
least,  without  some  chemical  amalgam  whose  principal  ingredients  are 
bread  and  butter. 

But  while  I  maintain  that  it  is  right  for  a  teacher  to  make  sure  of 
an  honorable  and  equitable  salary; — nay,  that  it  would  be  inexcusable 
in  him  to  make  no  provision  for  his  own  household — whether  that 
household  be  in  the  plural  or  have  just  passed  into  the  dual,  or  still 
remain  in  the  singular  number, — still,  when  he  has  deliberately  agreed 
upon  a  price  for  his  services,  all  pecuniary  considerations  should  forth 
with  be  dismissed  from  his  thoughts.  lie  has  then  come  under  the 
most  solemn  obligations  to  perform  a  certain  amount  of  duties,  and  no 
inadequacy  in  his  compensation,  however  great,  can  excuse  any 
neglect  in  his  duties,  however  small.  The  pilot  must  not  sleep  and 
suffer  the  vessel  to  be  wrecked,  on  the  plea  of  short  pay. 

What  then  shall  we  think  of  a  teacher,  who  having  secured  the 
most  liberal  salary,  seeks  to  contract  his  duties  within  a  narrower  and 
narrower  limit,  and  grudgingly  performs  even  those  which  are  em 
braced  within  the  contracted  circle;  who  spends  his  purloined  leisure 
in  pleasure-seeking,  in  pecuniary  speculations,  or  without  the  most  co 
gent  reasons  in  the.  lottery  of  school-book  making?  What  of  him  who 
clips  a  half  hour  from  the  morning  or  afternoon  session, — which  how 
ever  it  may  stand  in  the  civil  code,  is  a  greater  offence  in  the  moral 
one  than  clipping  the  king's  coin?  What  of  him  who  carries  his  body 
only  to  the  school-room,  while  his  soul  plays  truant;  and  who,  when 
his  classes  are  hungering  and  thirsting  for  spiritual  food,  gives  them 
for  bread,  a  stone;  for  a  fish,  a  serpent;  and  for  an  egg,  a  scorpion? 
There  is  110  neglect  oil  earth  so  criminal  as  the  neglect  of  a  teacher 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  281 

to  do  his  duties  to  his  scholars ;  and  the  darkest  dungeon  in  the  realms 
of  "  outer  darkness  "  will  be  reserved  for  those  teachers  who  through 
sloth  or  worldliness  suffer  these  little  ones  to  perish. 

There  is  another  class  of  motives,  not  indeed  of  a  very  high  or 
meritorious  character,  but  which  incur  no  censure,  unless  indulged  in 
to  excess.     I  refer  to  the  teacher's  desire  of  general  approval,  and 
especially  to  the  mature  and  time-satisfied  opinions  of  those  who  have 
been  his  pupils.     The  common  credit  or  discredit,  which  inures  to  a 
workman,  for  doing  his  work  well  or  ill,  is  an  allowable  incentive  to 
fidelity.     The  reports  which  will  go  abroad  respecting  the  literary 
proficiencies  and  moral  condition  of  a  school,  at  the  end  of  a  term  or 
a  year,  must  be  an  auxiliary  stimulus  to  exertion,  in  every  mind  that 
is  not  cither  too  high  or  too  low  to  be  classed  among  the  human. 
There  is  not  an  artisan  or  an  artist,  from  a  cobbler  to  a  sculptor,  who 
is  not  elated  or  depressed   by  the  prevalent  opinions  of  the  public 
respecting  the  quality  of  his  work.     "An  advancing  school,"  "a  sta 
tionary   school,"    "a   retrograding   school,"    become    expressions   of 
weighty  import,  when  they  are  uttered  by  every  mouth  in  the  district; 
when  recorded  in  the  school  committee's  report,  to  be  read  in  open 
town-meeting  or  printed  for  general  perusal,  and  at  last,  perhaps, 
published  in  the  annual  Abstract  of  School  Returns.     Now,  though 
the  condition  of  a  school  is  modified  by  many  things,  yet  more  than 
any  other  thing,  it  is  modified  by  the  character  of  the  teacher.     And 
hence,  whatever  other  impress  is  stamped  upon  it,  the  teacher's  image 
is  most  conspicuous.     In  all  schools  kept  by  the  same  teacher  for  any 
considerable  length  of  time,  he  determines  the  number  of  the  dunces, 
as  well  as  the  number  of  the  scholars  and  the  gentlemen.     A  teacher 
who  is  a  dolt  himself,  makes  scholars  who  are  dolts,  in  the  same  way 
that  a  poor  farmer  impoverishes  a  fertile  farm.     A  teacher,  therefore, 
who  decries  the  general  capacity  of  his  scholars,  disparages  himself; 
and  all  intelligent  people  who  hear  his  detractions,  say,  "No  wonder; 
does  not  like  beget  like?"    On  the  other  hand,  we  know  that  an  accom 
plished  teacher  will  take  the  roughest  bo<  r,  and  by  skillful  and  con 
stant  manipulations  will  smooth  and  polish  h'm  into  a  gentleman;  ho 
will  take  the  most  metallic  and  hard-hearted  wretch,  and  by  placing 
him  in  such  positions  that  his  own  electric  currents  may  flow  through 
him,  he  will  at  last  endue  him  with  a  celestial  polarity. 

But  the  future  and  abiding  opinion,  formed  of  a  teacher  by  his  pupils, 
is  a  far  weightier  consideration.  Such  an  opinion  will  be  formed  and 
will  be  expressed.  Every  person  remembers  his  school  teachers. 
Almost  every  one  is  so  situated  in  adult  life,  that  he  can  express  his 
opinion  of  his  former  teachers  without  fear  or  favor.  If  a  teacher  has 


282  TIIE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

had  large  numbers  under  his  care,  for  a  series  of  years,  lie  has  sent 
out  a  sufficient  company  to  make,  by  themselves,  a  very  formidable 
public  opinion.  In  the  pleasures  or  business  of  life,  these  former 
pupils  will  meet.  In  recurring  to  bygone  days,  the  school  and  the 
teacher  will  rise  to  vivid  recollection.  Merits  and  demerits  will  be  re 
membered,  and  an  honorable  or  a  condemnatory  judgment  be  awarded. 
When  a  teacher  has  kept  large  schools,  and  sent  out  company  after 
company  for  successive  years,  there  is  probably  not  a  day  in  the  year, 
and  perhaps  not  an  hour  in  the  day,  when  his  excellencies  or  his  faults 
are  not  rehearsed;  and  if  there  were  any  truth  in  that  old-fashioned 
superstition,  that  the  right  or  the  left  ear  burns,  as  people  are  speaking 
well  or  ill  of  us,  all  old  teachers  must  always  have,  at  least  one,  if  not 
two,  very  hot  and  flame-colored  ears. 

Reflect  on  this  a  little,  my  friends,  for  it  is  really  worthy  of  your 
attention.  All  handicraftsmen,  all  cultivators  of  the  soil,  who  have 
any  regard  for  their  reputation,  exercise  some  care  and  caution,  in 
regard  to  the  fabrics  or  the  products,  which  they  exhibit  at  home,  or 
send  abroad  for  sale.  The  perishable  materials  of  the  loom,  which 
hardly  survive  their  manufacture  for  a  year,  the  consumable  products 
of  the  earth,  the  most  enduring  of  which  are  expected  to  last  only 
till  another  harvest,  are  all  so  many  witnesses,  for  the  time  being,  of 
the  skill  and  fidelity  of  their  producers.  But  these  workmen  send 
forth  dumb  commodities, — things  speechless  from  their  birth,  that  have 
no  memory  for  past  evil  or  good,  that  can  break  forth  at  the  mention  ®f 
their  producer's  name,  into  no  ejaculation  of  heart-felt  gratitude,  nor 
utter  curses  for  remembered  injuries.  But  what  sort  of  plants  are 
they  which  go  forth  from  the  teacher's  nursery?  Are  they  animals? 
Will  you  hear  no  more  from  them  after  a  twelvemonth?  Or  in  the 
common  course  of  nature,  will  they  not  last  for  your  honor  or  shame, 
as  much  longer  than  you  last,  as  their  years  are  now  exceeded  by 
yours? 

And  again,  are  the  products,  which  go  forth  from  your  hands,  voice 
less?  Do  they  wait  for  some  bystander  to  discover  their  origin  and 
to  make  proclamation  of  it?  Or  do  they,  each  in  his  own  sphere, 
make  this  proclamation  themselves?  If  a  man  sends  a  shabby  boot 
or  shoe  into  the  market ;  if  he  sends  a  yoke  of  badly  trained  cattle, 
or  a  vicious  colt,  to  be  sold  at  the  Fair,  he  puts  no  earmark  on  the 
work  of  his  hands.  He  gladly  compounds  for  secresy.  He  feels  like 
a  rogue  who  has  counterfeited  the  current  coin, — who  desires  to  pass 
off  his  ba.se  money  and  abscond.  But  the  miserable  teacher  can  not 
deny  or  conceal  his  productions.  If  he  does  not  proclaim  them,  they 
proclaim  him.  They  bear  his  earmark  on  their  bodies  and  on  their 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  283 

souls  as  plainly  as  though  they  came  bleeding  from  the  pillory.  The 
records  kept  by  a  teacher  who  had  been  in  the  same  school  for  eleven 
consecutive  years,  in  Massachusetts,  showed  that  one  in  every  nine 
of  his  boys  had  been  sent  to  the  State's  prison,  the  jail,  or  house  of 
correction.  When  the  question  arises,  who  presided  at  the  formation 
of  a  character,  the  teacher  can  not  prove  an  alibi.  There  goes  a  man 
whom  everybody  calls  a  vile,  calumnious  bigot;  and  you,  Mr.  Arch- 
bigot,  so  culled  and  collated  the  divine  texts  as  to  make  him  so.  You 
taught  the  bad  Levite  to  hate  the  good  Samaritan.  Indeed  the  whole 
subsequent  life  of  a  pupil  may  be  considered  as  a  sort  of  practical 
commentary,  of  which  the  teacher  is  the  text.  A  pupil  may  be,  not 
a  standing  but  a  walking  advertisement  of  a  teacher's  incompetency ; 
and  by  the  necessity  of  the  case,  the  teacher  can  not  help  himself.  No 
court  of  Chancery  can  grant  an  injunction  to  stay  his  proceedings; 
the  nuisance  shouts  its  origin,  and,  what  is  worse,  the  teacher  can  not 
abate  it.  His  only  hope  and  chance  are  to  wait  until  death  shall  re 
move  this  spiritual  offspring  from  his  sight ;  but  death  will  probably 
take  the  parent  before  the  child.  I  do  not  say  this  is  true  in  regard  to 
all  scholars  and  under  all  circumstances,  but  it  has  been  and  still  is 
true,  to  such  an  extent  as  to  justify  caution  and  excite  alarm  amongst 
all  teachers,  at  least  all  permanent  ones.  And  such  results  are  be 
coming  more  and  more  extensively  true,  every  day  we  live.  Just  in 
proportion  as  the  art  and  science  of  education  advance,  just  so  far  will 
the  character  of  individuals  be  more  and  more  referred  to  the  specific 
influences  of  the  teacher  under  whom  they  were  trained.  Early 
training  and  adult  character  will  be  more  and  more  recognized  as 
cause  and  effect.  The  union  between  teacher  and  scholar  will  be 
come  closer  and  closer,  and  the  character  of  the  former  will  be  re 
flected  from  the  conduct  of  the  latter,  in  more  legible  inscriptions  of 
honor  or  shame. 

I  have  said  that  pupils  will  go  forth  into  life,  pronouncing  praises, 
or,  perhaps,  maledictions,  upon  their  teachers,  wherever  they  go.  In 
one  respect,  this  reputation  falls  short  of  the  truth.  A  pupil  may 
bestow  the  highest  verbal  commendations  on  a  teacher,  and  express 
ardent  gratitude  toward  him,  but  yet  wiih  such  accompaniments  of 
speech  and  of  manner,  as  to  betray  both  the  teacher's  folly  and  his 
own.  I  recollect  having  once  heard  a  man,  who  had  long  passed 
middle  life,  when  addressing  an  intelligent  audience  of  at  least  a  thou 
sand  people,  advocate  emulation  among  scholars,  and  the  bestowment 
of  medals,  in  schools.  To  make  his  argument  more  effective,  he  gave  us 
a  chapter  from  his  own  school  history.  He  described  the  competition 
between  his  classmates  and  himself  for  the  medal  which  had  been 


284  THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

offered ; — how  they  strove  but  he  won ;  how  swiftly  they  ran  to  reach 
the  goal,  but  how  he  outran  them  all;  how  worthy  the  honor  his  rivals 
were,  but  how  he  excelled  them  and  triumphed.  In  order  to  prolong 
and  magnify  this  self-laudation,  he  introduced  the  teacher,  and  bespan 
gled  him  with  garish  compliments ;  because  the  teacher  had  had  the 
sagacity  to  see  that  the  boaster  was  entitled  to  the  prize.  When  the 
egotist  had  done, — in  all  that  audience  of  a  thousand  persons,  I  do  not 
think  there  was  an  intelligent  man  or  woman,  who  did  not  say,  "Poor 
Pupil!  Poor  Teacher!  What  precious  fools  you  have  both  made  of 
yourselves!"  So,  on  the  other  hand,  a  man  may  upbraid  and  vilify  a 
teacher,  on  account  of  the  treatment  received  from  him, — in  such  a 
way,  however,  that  every  sagacious  hearer  shall  say,  at  once,  that  the 
teacher  must  have  had  the  most  ample  justification  for  doing  all  he 
is  blamed  for.  And  this  is  as  true  in  matters  of  intellectual  instruc 
tion  as  in  moral  guidance.  Suppose  a  man  tell  you,  how  perfect  a 
reader  his  teacher  was,  and  how  careful  he  was  to  train  him,  accord 
ing  to  the  most  perfect  models  of  the  art,  and  then  gives  you  a 
disgusting  specimen  of  ultra  theatrical  heroics,  in  proof  of  his  asser 
tion.  As  the  public  become  more  discerning  on  this  subject,  there  will 
be  a  closer  and  closer  approximation  to  justice,  in  the  praise  or  the 
blame  awarded  to  teachers,  on  an  inspection  of  their  work.  In  short, 
every  word  of  a  teacher,  whether  shouted  or  whispered,  awaken  an 
echo  which  will  live  forever.  Year  after  year,  while  he  survives,  and 
years  after  he  shall  be  dead,  the  reverberations  will  come  back  to 
salute  his  own  ears  and  the  ears  of  his  friends  who  outlive  him,  in 
tones  of  approval  or  condemnation. 

Thongh  an  inadequate  expression  of  the  truth,  yet  for  want  of  a 
better  illustration,  I  would  compare  each  professional  teacher  to  a 
great  organ-builder, — each  child  whom  he  educates  being  one  of  the 
pipes  wrought  by  his  hand  into  the  living  instrument.  These  pipes  are 
all  instinct  with  sound,  for  such  is  their  nature.  Tones  of  some  sort, 
they  will  emit,  and  nothing  but  death, — nay,  not  death  itself  can 
silence  them.  The  teacher,  by  his  dexterity  or  his  clumsiness,  moulds 
and  shapes,  opens  or  contracts  these  pipes,  in  accordance  with,  or  in 
opposition  to  the  laws  of  his  heavenly  art.  According  to  the  benevo 
lent  or  the  tyrannical  spirit  of  his  prelusions,  he  gives  them  the  form, 
and  breathes  into  them  the  soul,  which  will  afterwards  go  forth,  utter 
ing  divine  or  savage  sounds.  Day  by  day,  and  year  by  year,  under 
his  ever-repeated  touch,  the  pliant  fibres  of  their  vocal  apparatus 
harden  and  consolidate  into  those  enduring  forms,  which  shall  deter 
mine  the  quality  of  the  articulate  music  they  will  afterwards  discourse. 
I  pretend  to  no  special  quickness  of  ear,  either  for  poetry  or  music, 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  285 

but  on  entering  a  school  which  has  been  taught  for  a  long  time  by 
the  same  person,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  need  no  imagination,  but  only 
the  common  faculty  of  hearing,  to  catch  the  air  or  strain  with  which 
these  organ  pipes  are  spontaneously  vocal.  You  will  no  sooner  set 
foot  in  a  school-room  which  has  suffered  under  a  long  reign  of  violence 
and  severity  and  terror,  than  you  will  hear  this  teacher-built  organ 
growl  out  its  angry  dissonance. 

In  another  school,  a  lovely  female  teacher  is  timing  her  living 
instrument  to  sing  such  strains  as  this : 

As  zephyrs  to  the  JEolian  chords, 
As  dew  and  sun  to  flowers; 
So  sweetly  fall  her  heavenly  words 
On  these  glad  hearts  of  ours. 

Lit  by  her  smile,  the  murkiest  sky 
With  Orient  splendor  glows; 
Rain-drops  are  pearls,  and  'neath  her  eye, 
Each  snow-flake  falls  a  rose. 

Oh  grant,  Dear  God,  that  we  may  live, 
And  win  her  angel  powers ; 
In  turn  to  childhood's  heart  we'll  give 
The  heaven  she  gave  to  ours. 

Or  in  the  case  of  some  noble  old  teacher,  who  has  spent  his  life  in 
preparing  a  soil  rich  as  Eden,  and  in  sowing  it  with  the  seeds  of  high 
thoughts  and  pure  sentiments,  a  strain  bursts  forth  loftier  and  diviner 
than  ever  came  forth  from  cathedral  organ,  or  from  strong-voiced 
orchestra  with  its  thousand  exulting  instruments.  His  pupils  pour 
out  their  lyric  strains  in  this  wise: 

Hail  to  the  Framer  of  our  mortal  frames! 

Feeble  and  frail  were  we, 

An  insect  progeny, 
Scorched  by  the  summer,  and  by  winter  froze; 

Pain  choked  our  first  drawn  breath, 

Disease  preluded  Death, 
And  Nature's  kindliest  elements  were  foes, 
For  bodies  prone  that  crawled  like  worms, 
He  reared  these  heaven  aspiring  forms, 
And  in  each  arm  and  foot  and  hand, 
Put  steel-spring  fibres  for  old  threads  of  sand; 
Till  now  in  Health's  invulnerable  mail, 
All  toils,  all  perils,  fearless  we  assail ; — 
Knowing  that  whatsoe'er  in  earth  is  stored 
Of  giant  might,  still  mightier  is  its  Lord: 

In  sun  or  rain 

On  mount  or  main, 


28G  THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

Torrid  or  Arctic, — wheresoc'er  we  dwell, 
Nature's  fierce  powers  are  liege  men  of  our  will; 
Hail  to  the  Framer  of  our  mortal  frames! 
Hail  to  the  builder  of  our  pod-like  minds! 

Through  space  and  time  he  sought, 

"Wherever  God  had  wrought; 

Saw  where  the  deep  foundations  of  the  world  were  laid, 
And  measured  up  the  starry  dome  that  arches  overhead ; 
And  said,  upon  this  depth  and  breadth  and  height  of  plan, 
I'll  build  the  structure  of  my  pupil — Man, 

Arts,  knowlcdgev  sciences,  he  took, 

With  all  the  tongues  wise  men  have  spoke, 
And  gathered  in  the  Dome  of  Thought, 
The  truths  wherewith  God's  realms  arc  fraught, 
Till,  in  the  mystic  chambers  of  each  brain, 
Creation  was  created  o'er  again! 
Hail  to  the  builder  of  our  god-like  minds ! 
Hail  to  the  Former  of  our  deathless  souls! 

Tutor,  Securer.*     Blessed  be  his  name! 
Meek  follower  was  he  of  Him  who  came 
To  save  the  lost.     He  saved  us  from  the  shame 

Of  Earth's  ambitions,  vanities,  and  lies, 
And  our  young  hearts  baptized  with  flame, 
Whose  fount  is  in  the  skies. 

Copious  his  lessons  overran 

With  love  to  God  and  love  to  man, 

And  lest  his  Word*  we  might  forget, 

His  Life  the  holy  signet  set. 
While  others  proudly  sought  to  show 

The  vision  of  a  heaven  above, 

By  truth  and  peace,  by  joy  and  love, 

He  imaged  heaven  below. 
Oh,  haste  the  eternal  day, 
When  like  bright  stars  around 

We  each  shall  gem 

The  diadem 

With  which  his  brow  is  crowned, 
Hail  to  the  Former  of  our  deathless  souls! 

And  thus  is  every  professional  teacher,  through  every  day  of  his  life 
constantly  preparing, — or  rather  composing, — some  lofty  anthem,  or 
some  low  doggerel,  which  shall  be  pealed  to  his  honor  or  shame,  as 
long  as  his  memory  lasts. 

How  careful  would  every  mechanician  be,  if  each  well  or  ill-made 
wheel,  in  all  his  machines,  instead  of  an  industrious  and  business 
like  humming,  or  a  distressful  creaking,  should  boldly  articulate  the 
name  of  its  maker,  at  every  revolution.  Who  then  shall  set  bounds, 

•It  ia  a  beautiful  feet  that  the  etymon  of  the  word  Tutor  means  to  protect,  defend,  or  w»rure. 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  287 

even  to  the  rational  solicitude  which  every  teacher  should  feel  in 
regard  to  those  living  and  speaking  products  that  pass  from  under  his 
hand? 

Another  motive  which  should  powerfully  urge  on  a  teacher  to  the 
full  performance  of  his  duty,  is  the  desire  to  elevate  the  profession  to 
which  he  belongs.  "Every  man,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "is  a  debtor  to 
his  profession ;" — which  means,  as  I  suppose,  that  every  man,  by  the 
mere  fact  of  membership,  comes  under  an  implied  obligation  to  render 
that  profession  some  valuable  service.  Surely  it  would  be  held 
dishonorable,  not  to  say  a  dishonest  act,  if  a  man  should  join  any 
partnership,  corporation,  or  guild,  appropriate  to  his  own  personal 
advantage,  some  portion  of  its  general  funds, — whether  those  funds 
might  consist  of  money  or  of  respectability, — and  should  then,  without 
requital,  desert  the  company  he  has  defrauded.  Still  worse  would  it 
be,  if  the  interloper  should  bring  general  discredit  upon  his  fellow- 
members,  or  degrade  the  character  of  their  employment.  Each  of 
these  offences  the  incompetent  teacher  commits.  In  the  first  place, 
does  he  not  pocket  more  than  his  equitable  share  of  the  public  money 
given  for  the  support  of  schools ;  or  if  I  may  use  a  technical  phrase, 
current  among  rogues,  because  it  so  well  describes  the  quality  of  his 
conduct,  does  he  not  crib?  In  the  second  place,  he  degrades  the 
standard  of  good  school-keeping,  and  covers  all  his  brethren  with  some 
degree  of  odium. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  accomplished  teacher  not  only  performs  an 
invaluable  service  to  all  his  pupils,  but  he  sheds  lustre  upon  all  his 
fellow-laborers,  and  he  elevates  the  common  sentiments  of  mankind, 
in  regard  to  the  dignity  of  the  employment.  By  making  the  profes 
sion  honorable,  he  increases  its  attractive  power,  as  a  profession,  and 
thus  draws  minds  of  a  higher  order  to  engage  in  it  and  adorn  it.  This 
aggrandizes  it  and  irradiates  it  still  more,  and  action  and  reaction 
hasten  the  grandest  results.  The  employment  itself  is  thus  lifted 
more  and  more  out  of  the  sphere  and  reach  of  ignorance  and  incom- 
petency.  Nor  is  this  all  the  good  service  which  the  accomplished 
teacher  renders.  He  is  perpetually  improving  old  methods,  and 
inventing  new  ones,  for  the  instruction  and  government  of  children. 
These  improvements  enable  all  teachers  to  do  their  work  better  and 
easier,  as  well  as  to  do  more  in  the  same  time.  It  is  the  opinion  of 
the  best  teachers  that  the  art  of  teaching  is  yet  in  an  exceedingly 
rude  state,  and  that  its  instruments  and  appliances  are  yet  to  be  as 
much  improved,  as  navigation  has  been  improved  by  steamboats,  or 
land  travel  by  railroads.  It  is  only  the  incompetent  teacher  who 
mistakes  the  circumference  of  his  nutshell  for  the  outside  of  the 


288  TIIE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

universe.  Some  great  improvements  have  already  been  made,  and 
doubtless,  in  this,  as  in  all  the  meehanic  arts  and  in  all  the  sciences, 
still  greater  ones  are  to  follow.  The  black-board  is  to  vivid  and  exact 
instruction,  what  the  art  of  painting  was  to  civilization;  and  yet  the 
black-board  does  not  perform  one-fourth  of  the  service  which  it  will 
do,  when  the  art  of  drawing  becomes  a  common  attainment.  A 
black-board,  to  a  teacher  who  can  not  draw,  is,  with  the  exception  of 
arithmetic,  very  much  like  a  library  to  a  man  who  can  not  read. 
Now,  all  the  losses  incurred  through  deficiency,  as  well  as  all  the 
advantages  gained  by  skill,  are  daily  illustrated  in  the  practice  of  the 
accomplished  teacher.  His  life  is  a  lesson  on  the  cxhibitory  plan. 
What  Watt  and  Fulton  were  to  the  steam-engine;  what  Franklin  was 
to  electricity,  Newton  to  astronomy,  Bacon  to  philosophy,  Columbus 
and  Vasco  de  Gama  to  a  true  knowledge  of  the  earth — all  this  are 
accomplished  teachers, — the  Pestalozzis,  the  Wilderspins,  and  the 
Colburns,  to  their  profession,  and  its  professors.  Thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands, — a  profession  reaching  to  the  end  of  time — will  do 
homage  to  their  memories. 

Another  motive  which  should  operate  strongly  upon  the  mind  of  a 
teacher,  is  the  desire  to  be  master  of  his  business.  Here  all  selfish 
and  all  benevolent  promptings  coincide,  and  impel  with  united  force 
in  the  same  direction.  Just  so  far  as  any  one  improves  himself  as  a 
teacher,  he  improves  himself  as  a  man,  and  elevates  his  standing  as  a 
citizen.  Consider,  for  a  moment,  upon  what  vantage  ground  a  finished 
teacher  stands,  and  the  attainments  which  arc  indispensable  in  his 
daily  business — if  he  has  the  good  sense  to  cast  away  all  pedantry — 
are  available  in  his  daily  intercourse  with  men.  Let  us  look  at  this 
point  a  little  in  detail,  for  I  think  many  teachers  do  not  fully  appre 
ciate,  in  this  particular,  the  advantages  of  their  position.  Even  in 
the  lowest  and  most  mechanical  departments  of  a  teacher's  duty,  his 
attainments  are  hardly  less  serviceable,  in  his  daily  intercourse  with 
the  world,  than  they  are  in  the  school-room.  Every  teacher  of  respect 
able  qualifications  for  the  humblest  class  of  our  district  schools,  is  a 
perfect  speller  of  all  the  common  words  in  our  language,  he  is 
also  a  good  penman  and  a  good  reader.  As  a  grammarian,  he  can 
both  speak  and  write  the  English  language  with  propriety.  As  a 
geographer,  he  is  acquainted  with  every  city,  mountain,  river,  and 
island  of  any  note  in  the  world,  knows  all  the  political  divisions  of  the 
earth ;  and  has  the  principal  statistics  of  population,  commerce,  re 
ligion,  education,  and  so  forth,  at  the  end  of  his  tongue.  And  as  an 
arithmetician,  he  can  solve,  with  facility  and  correctness,  at  least  all 
the  questions  that  ever  arise  in  the  ordinary  business  transactions  of  life. 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  289 

Now  into  whatever  circle  or  association  such  a  teacher  may  be  thrown^ 
his  information  will  come  into  frequent  demand,  and  he  will  be  always 
able  to  take  a  respectable,  and  often  a  conspicuous  part  in  conversa 
tion.     He  will  be  better  prepared  than  any  others,  excepting  perhaps 
a  few  professional  men,  to  write  a  letter,  draft  a  circular,  or  make  a 
report,  which,  in  its  orthography,  grammar,  style  and  arrangement, 
shall  be  substantially  faultless.     If  the  news  of  the  day,  whether 
from  armies,  or  from  missionaries,  suggest  any  geographical  inquiry, 
he  is  ready  to  answer  it.     Being  familiar  with  arithmetic,  he  will 
declare  the  answer  to  any  question   that  may  arise  in  this  branch, 
while  others  are  puzzling  over  the  preliminaries ;  and  he  will  be  able 
to  detect,  at  a  glance,  the  thousand  mistakes  into  which  the  half  edu 
cated  are  constantly  falling.     I  say  then,  that  a  competent  teacher  for 
a  common  district  school  enters  any  ordinary  circle  of  men  and  wo 
men,  or  takes  part  in  the  business  of  any  organized  body, — whether 
it  be  a  temperance  meeting  or  a  town  meeting,  under  very  considerable 
and  very  desirable  advantages.     He  possesses  all  these  important 
advantages,  too,  the  first  year  he  begins  to  teach,  and  however  ordinary 
the  school  over  which  he  presides.     But  suppose  him  to  continue  in 
the  business  of  teaching  for  twenty  or  thirty  years,  what  abundant  and 
enviable  opportunities  does  he  possess  for  becoming  a  real  master  of 
his  profession,  as  well  as  for  obtaining  great  prominence  and  consid 
eration  in  society.     The  permanent  teacher  will  enlarge  his  knowledge 
in  all  directions.    He  will  expand  his  grammar  into  philology,  rhetoric, 
and  logic.     He  will  turn  modern  geography  backward  into  ancient. 
He  will  make  geography,  biography,  and  history  mutually  illustrate, 
diversify,  and  enrich  each  other.     In  connection  with  book-keeping, 
he  will  not  only  learn  the  common  forms  of  business,  but  many  of  the 
leading  points  of  the  Law-merchant.    Through  mechanical  and  natural 
philosophy,  especially  if  to  these  he  adds  chemistry,  he  will  become 
acquainted  with  that  extensive  and  beautiful  field  of  inquiry, — the 
application  of  science  to  the  arts  of  life.     Through  political  and  moral 
science,  he  will  examine,  as  it  were  by  a  celestial  light,  the  condition 
of  individuals  and  nations  and  learn  what  conduct,  what  institutions, 
what  form  of  government  leads  to  their  exaltation  or  abasement. 
Through  astronomy,  he  will  look  outward  into  infinite  space,  and 
through  geology  backward  into  infinite  time ;  and  he  will  never  enter 
hjs   school-room,  or  thoughtfully  survey  the    children   before   him, 
without  thinking  of  heaven  and  an  hereafter.     Besides  being  a  careful 
reader  of  every  leading  work  and  periodical  pertaining  to  his  pro 
fession,  he  will,  through  newspapers  and  reviews  at  least,  keep  up 
with  the  times,  as  we  familiarly  express  it,  and  learn  the  progress 
19 


290  TOE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

which  groat  principles  and  great  causes  are  making  throughout  the 
world.  Now  it  will  not  be  questioned  that  a  well-bred  person  of 
spotless  character,  and  possessing  this  variety  and  amplitude  of  infomr- 
ation,  will  be  a  welcome  inmate  in  any  society  or  family,  and  will  adorn 
whatever  circle  he  may  enter.  His  manners  will  p\ease,  his  kindness 
will  endear,  his  good  humor,  nurtured  by  his  intercourse  with  children* 
will  enliven,  his  knowledge  will  instruct,  his  dignity. and  worth  will  win 
spontaneous  deference  and  respect, — sometimes  rising  to  reverence. 

It  has  been  remarked  a  thousand  times,  that  the  profession  of  the 
law  prepares  a  man  for  becoming  a  politician, — (I  use  this  word  here 
in  a  good  sense,) — because  a  lawyer,  by  his  daily  studies,  is  becoming 
familiar  with  most  of  the  great  principles  on  which  the  statesman 
proceeds.  So  the  teacher,  if  he  be  true  to  himself,  is  daily  making 
acquisitions  which  assimilate  him  more  and  more  to  all  the  leading 
minds,  in  all  the  leading  departments  of  life.  He  becomes  a  literary 
and  classical  critic,  and  he  is  consulted  by  scientific  men.  On  the  side 
of  political  economy,  he  approaches  the  statesman,  and  on  the  side 
of  ethics  he  equals  the  moralist.  As  a  physiologist,  he  is  Setter  than 
a  physician,  and  as  a  trainer  of  children  in  the  way  they  should  go, 
he  will  advance  the  cause  of  virtue  and  humanity,  more  than  as  many 
polemics  as  could  stand  within  the  orbit  of  Saturn.  In  himself  alone, 
he  is  a  temperance  society  and  a  peace  society;  he  goes  for  the 
abolition,  not  of  one  evil  only,  but  of  all  evils,  and  he  is  the  most 
effective  of  Home  Missions. 

But  suppose  a  teacher,  on  being  asked  to  compute  the  value  of  a 
cord  of  wood,  at  five  shillings  and  sixpence  a  foot,  makes  it  come  to 
between  three  and  four  hundred  dollars ;  or  finds,  by  slate  and  pencil, 
that  the  legal  interest,  on  a  note  of  hand  for  one  year,  is  just  six  times 
as  much  as  the  principal;  or  when  inquired  of,  who  wrote  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles,  cays  it  was  the  apostle  Acts;  or,  when  questioned  as 
to  what  were  once  considered  the  four  elements, — says,  earth,  air, 
fire,  and  brimstone ;  or,  to  take  example  of  men  who  have  been  through 
college,  declares  that  he  does  not  mean  to  read  Gibbon's  Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  till  he  can  read  it  in  the  original  Latin ; 
or  does  not  know  what  constitutes  hearing  evidence  in  law;  nor  file 
logical  difference  between  a  priori  and  a  posteriroi reasoning  in  logic: 
or  what  is  worse  than  any  ignorance,  however  thick  or  black  it  may  be, 
carries  the  manners  of  a  haughty  pedagogue  into  society,  and  demands 
that  men  shall  say  his  creed  after  him,  word  for  word,  just  as  he  de 
mands  of  a  child  four  years  old,  that  he  shall  repeat  his  a,  6,  c,  or  of 
a  boy  in  the  Latin  grammar,  that  he  shall  say  hie,  haec,  hoc;  or 
decides  all  the  momentous  questions  connected  with  Prison  Discipline, 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  291 

by  the  rule  of  his  own  school-room ; — that  in  all  cases  of  transgression, 
corporal  punishment  is  the  first  resort; — suppose  these  things,  I  say, 
and  such  as  these,  to  be  true,  and  what  man  of  intelligence  and  moral 
culture  will  desire  the  company  of  such  a  teacher  at  his  table  or  his 
fire-side.  And  yet  these  are  not  imagined  cases;  they  are  not  bor 
rowed  from  Irving  or  Dickens,  but  are  veritable  facts,  and,  I  blush 
to  say  it,  of  Massachusetts  origin. 

It  should  also  be  a  leading  motive  with  every  teacher,  to  avoid  the 
dangers  peculiar  to  his  calling.     Incident  to  every  occupation  and 
profession   among  men,  there  are  peculiar  dangers.     Painters  are 
afflicted  with  the  "  Painter's  colic."     The  burnishers  of  steel  die  of 
consumption.      Tailors    and   shoe-makers   are   in   danger   of    being 
hump-backed  and  round-shouldered;  and  if  put  to  the'^Hvork  very 
young,  they  have  bandy-legs  to  match.     Watch  repairers  become 
squint-eyed,    and   mere   technical    lawyers   become    squint-minded. 
Rich  men  are  prone  to  be  too  conservative,  and  mere  politicians  too 
radical.     Surgeons  treat  kuman  nerves,  as  though  they  were  pack 
thread,  and  clergymen  often  lose  all  relish  for  innocent  enjoyments, 
become  austere  and  sanctimonious,  and  are  in  danger  of  skipping 
the  duties  of  this  life,  in  the  intentness  with  which  they  look  after 
another.     Now  the  teacher's  vocation  is  by  no  means  exempt  from 
this  common  lot.     It  has  its  peculiar  exposures,  and  against  them, 
therefore,  the  teacher  should  exercise  constant  vigilance.     In   the 
school-room,  the  teacher  is,  and  must  be,  the  ultimate  court  of  appeal. 
All  questionable  points,  whether  in  lessons  or  in  conduct,  come  before 
him  for  adjudication.     He  holds  accounts  both  of  civil  and  criminal 
jurisdiction.      He   determines   all  questions  of  law,  as  well  as  all 
matters  of  fact.     His  "  terms  "  last  through  the  year,  and  probably  he 
decides  as  many  questions  each  day,  as  the  highest  court,  in  any  state 
or  nation  in  Christendom,  does  in  a  twelvemonth.     Now  all  this  tends 
to  make  him  dogmatical  and  opinionated.     I  do  not  say,  it  necessarily 
produces  dogmatism,  or  stubbornness  in  the  defense  of  opinions;  but 
I  do  say  that  it  tends  to  these  odious  qualities,  and  unless  this  ten 
dency  be  counteracted,  it  will   produce  them.     His  decisions,  too, 
he  makes  extemporaneously.     He  can  not,  like  a  court  of  Chan 
cery,  keep  a  case  before  him,  until  the  original  parties  are  dead, 
and  their  executors  or  administrators  come  in  to  pray  for  judgment. 
This  state  of  things  necessitates  promptness,  if  not  precipitancy,  in 
the  formation  of  opinions;  and  hence  an  incautious  teacher,  in  his 
intercourse  with  men,  is  prone  to  decide  all  ^ocial,  national,  or  inter 
national    questions, — questions    involving   Commerce,  diplomacy,  or 
war, — hi  as  summary  a  manner,  as  when  he  presided  in  the  school- 


292  THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

house  foruin,  and  decided  contested  points  about  accent  or  number, 
apples  or  nuts.     Now  against  all  circumscription  and  narrowness  in 
the  range  of  thought  and  speculation,  teachers  should  stand  guard 
continually.     They  should  practice  counteracting  mental  exercises  to 
prevent  their  minds  from  becoming  microscopic  and  pedantically  nice ; 
in  the  same  way  that  a  sensible  tailor  or  shoemaker  practices  counter 
acting  physical  exercises  against  being  bow-backed.     The  teacher 
should  constantly  aim  at  that  enlargement  of  mind,  that  amplitude  of 
view,  which  will  assimilate  the  operations  of  the  school-room  to  the 
grandest  affairs  of  life,  instead  of  contracting  the  grand  affairs  of  life 
to  the  narrow  dimensions  of  the  school-room.     By  intercourse  with 
business  men,  he  should  rectifiy  his  generalizations,  and  by  conversa 
tion  withvthe  progress  of  the  great  and  busy  world,  he  should  give 
his  mind  a  centrifugal  impetus,  which  will  enlarge  the  diameter,  with 
out  increasing  the  eccentricity  of  its  orbit.     There  is  still  another 
point  which  I  hope  no  one  will  deem  too  trivial  to  be  noticed  in  this 
connection.      Some  teachers  suffer  under  those  nervous  phenomena, 
commonly  called  Fidgets.     Twirling  a  pencil-case  or  a  watch-key; 
stroking  down  a  watch-guard;  rumbling  with  a  button;  making  the 
fingers  ride  pick-a-pack ;  rocking  the  foot ;  swinging  the  arms ;  shrug 
ging  the  shoulders ;  see-sawing  the  body ;  drumming  with  the  fingers ; 
snapping  or  cracking  the  joints;  soloing  on  a  whistle  or  a  key;  thrust 
ing  the  hands  into  the  pockets,  or — contemptible  sight — hanging  up 
the  arms,  like  herrings  to  be  dried,  at  the  armholes  of  the  vest ; — in 
fine,  all  sorts  of  ungainly  movements,  fibrous   twitchings  and  small 
spasms  generally,  constitute  the  odious  tricks  I  refer  to.     Whether 
these  unseemly  exhibitions  are  electric  in  their  nature ;  whether  they 
operate  as  an  escapement  to  carry  off  superabundant  nervous  fluid,  I 
pretend  not  to  decide;  but  I  would  respectfully  suggest  to  all  scLool- 
examiners,  whether  such  manners  do  not   disqualify  for  teaching. 
For  their  own  sakes,  and  especially  for  the  sakes  of  the  children,  let 
all  teachers  call  in  the  surgeon,  if  necessary,  to  eradicate  these  nicti 
tating  membranes,  or  to  cut  off  the  nerves  that  lead  to  them. 

The  motives  which  have  thus  far  been  specially  enjoined,  though 
in  a  degree  personal  to  the  teacher,  are  in  no  respect  discreditable  to 
him.  I  am  happy  however  to  rise  out  of  this  region  into  one  of  purer 
ether, — to  motives  untainted  by  any  personal  considerations  whatever. 
I  address  myself  then  to  those  high  and  enduring  motives  that 
grow  out  of  the  very  nature  of  the  teacher's  calling.  And  here  it  is 
obvious,  on  the  threshold,  that  the  teacher  presides,  not  over  insentient 
and  inanimate  things,  but  over  sentient  and  animated  creatures;  not 
over  the  stationary  and  impenetrable,  but  over  the  progressive,  and 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  293 

over  the  most  impressible  of  all  the  works  of  the  Creator;  in  fine, 
he  presides,  not  over  the  ephemeral  or  temporal,  but  over  the  im 
mortal.  No  other  workman  works  on  such  materials.  The  natures 
on  which  he  operates  shall  expand  without  bound  or  limit ;  for,  when 
once  created,  they  are  coeternal  with  their  Creator.  Hence  the 
smallest  influence  of  a  teacher,  upon  the  receptive  mind  of  a  pupil, 
must  eventuate  in  great  results.  There  are  no  such  things,  in  educa 
tion,  as  trifles  or  insignificances.  The  subject  fails  of  being  appre 
ciated  merely  because  it  is  so  vast;  as  the  earth  can  not  be  clasped, 
like  an  orange,  because  of  its  size.  To  make  it  understood,  it  must 
be  analyzed,  and  presented  in  fragments  and  by  piece-meal.  And  I 
think  it  can  be  easily  proved  to  any  teacher,  that  each  day's  labor, 
well  or  ill-done,  will  have  an  important,  it  may  be  a  decisive  effect 
upon  the  fortunes  of  his  pupils.  And  what  may  perhaps  surprise 
some  who  have  never  pondered  on  the  subject,  this  remark  holds  true, 
even  in  regard  to  the  commonest  studies. 

Here  is  a  boy  learning  to  write.  As  he  opens  his  manuscript-book, 
writes  during  his  hour,  and  then  lays  it  aside,  the  progress  which  he 
has  made  or  failed  to  make,  in  regard  to  the  cut  or  smoothness  of  a 
few  letters  or  lines,  seems  of  little  consequence ;  and  yet  who  that  is 
acquainted  in  our  cities,  does  not  know  of  many  instances,  where  a 
man  has  obtained  or  lost  a  clerkship, — and  thus  secured  or  missed  a 
competency  for  life, — by  his  skill  and  dispatch,  or  his  want  of  them, 
in  the  single  matter  of  chirography? 

A  child  is  learning  to  spell,  but  no  special  pains  are  taken  to  make 
him  respell,  and  respell,  until  spelled  aright,  every  misspelled  word. 
Hence  his  danger  of  error  increases  with  the  number  of  words  he 
begins  to  use.  The  best  age  for  mastering  the  orthography  of  our 
language  passes  by,  and  the  pupil  goes  out  into  the  world,  exposed  to 
the  odium  of  illiteracy,  and  perhaps  incurring  still  graver  conse 
quences.  I  knew  a  late  case,  where  a  young  gentleman  of  sterling 
talents,  and  of  great  promise,  lost  the  appointment  of  teacher,  in  one 
of  our  Public  Schools,  where  the  salary  was  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
a  year,  because  in  the  written  application  which  he  made  for  the  place, 
the  word  grammar  was  spelled  grammer.  He  had  been  taught,  too, 
in  the  schools  of  a  city,  whose  masters  received  $1500  a  year.  Now 
if  orthography  had  been  taught  to  that  young  man,  in  a  proper  man 
ner;  if  he  had  ever  written  exercises  in  orthography;  or  had  ever 
seen  the  misspelled  word,  grammer,  gibbeted  on  the  black-board,  he 
would  have  saved  two  important  things, — his  mortification,  and  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  a  year.  What  sort  of  a  song  will  such  a  man  sing 
about  his  old  teacher? 


294  TIIE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

A  school-boy  is  untaught  or  mistaught  in  reading  He  makes 
ridiculous  mistakes  in  the  pronunciation  of  common  words,  gives  such 
intonation  and  inflections  as  pervert  an  author's  meaning;  or  worst 
of  all,  he  is  trained  to  a  theatrical  and  overwrought  style  of  elocu 
tion.  He  leaves  school.  By  and  by,  in  the  presence  of  a  smaller  or 
a  larger  company,  he  chances  to  be  called  upon  to  read.  He  exposes 
his  ignorance  or  his  affectation,  gets  laughed  at,  and  is  never  put 
forward  more.  Clergymen  have  lost  settlements ;  or  what  is  quite  as 
humiliating,  have  preached  to  empty  seats,  because  of  their  miserable 
reading;  and  in  long  and  complicated  trials  at  law,  where  most  of  the 
evidence  has  been  documentary,  lawyers  have  been  supposed  to  win 
verdicts  from  a  jury,  because  of  the  clear  enunciation,  the  intelligi 
bility,  and  the  impressiveness,  with  which  they  have  read  the  testimony. 

Another  pupil  has  never  been  indoctrinated  into  arithmetical  prin 
ciples;  his  whole  instruction,  in  this  branch,  having  been  by  arbitrary 
rule  and  formula.  A  place  is  bought  for  him  in  a  city  counting-room, 
but,  owing  to  his  frequent  mistakes,  he  is  dismissed ;  or  in  the  country, 
he  is  appointed  to  audit  the  accounts  of  town  or  parish  officers,  makes 
blunders,  is  exposed,  forfeits  his  reputation,  and  so  loses  all  chance  of 
promotion  or  advancement  among  his  fellow-citizens. 

Who,  too,  does  not  know  that  men  fail  in  business,  losing  not  only 
property,  but  perhaps  character  and  integrity  also,  because  they  did 
not  know  how  to  keep  accounts,  and  hence  were  ignorant  of  their  real 
pecuniary  condition? 

Ask  any  lawyer,  any  man  of  business,  or  politician,  what  is  the 
class  of  remarks  usually  made,  when  a  man's  fitness  for  any  particular 
service  or  office  becomes  a  subject  of  discussion.  If  three  men  are 
to  be  selected  as  arbitrators,  perhaps  a  dozen  will  be  named  before  a 
complement  is  agreed  on.  One  man  is  acknowledged  to  be  conscien 
tious,  but  he  knows  nothing  beyond  the  Multiplication  Table.  Another 
is  well  skilled  in  business,  but  a  suspicion  hangs  on  his  integrity.  A 
third,  for  want  of  proper  guidance,  has  spent  all  his  school-going  days, 
and  all  the  leisure  of  his  subsequent  life,  in  the  abstractions  of  Mathe 
matics;  he  knows  all  the  puzzling  sums  on  record: 

"  Can  tell  how  far  a  careless  fly 
Would  chance  to  turn  the  globe  awry, 
If  flitting  round  in  giddy  circuit,  « 
With  leg  or  wing  he  kick  or  jerk  it;" 

while  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  practical  life,  he  is  a  ninny  and  is 
not  competent  to  superintend  the  affairs  of  an  ant-heap; — I  do  not 
mean  one  of  those  imperial  ant-heaps,  reared  by  the  termites  of 
Africa,  but  one  of  those  Lilliputian  mounds  we  see  in  a  garden  after 


TILE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  295 

a  shower.  Another  is  allowed  to  possess  talent  and  attainment;  but 
he  has  been  educated  to  believe  that  every  one  who  does  not  attend 
the  church  he  attends,  and  employ  the  physician  he  employs,  must  be 
•  a  wicked  man,  while  anybody  who  does  so  must  be  a  good  one.  And 
thus,  through  some  defect  in  disposition,  in  attainments,  or  in  character, 
which  education  might  and  should  have  remedied,  they  are  set  aside. 
So  in  those  anti-preliminary  meetings,  as  we  may  call  them, — those 
private  interviews  or  conversations  which  iniate  initiation, — what  are 
the  points  which  indicate  this  or  that  individual  as  an  eligible  candi 
date  for  office?  In  four  cases  out  of  five, — in  nine  cases  out  of  ten, — 
are  they  not  some  attributes  that  have  been  developed  or  made  promi 
nent  in  school,— or  in  college,  which  is  only  a  higher  school?  And 
the  case  is  the  same,  when  the  question  first  arises,  whether  a  man  is 
qualified  to  be  an  accountant  in  a  trading  house  or  bank ;  an  overseer 
in  a  factory ;  a  superintendent  in  a  mechanic's  shop,  or  an  engineer  on 
a  railroad.  In  regard  to  these  first  chances,  which  a  man  has  to 
show  what  he  is,  and  to  better  his  condition,  education  has  far  more 
influence  than  talent.  After  one  has  secured  his  opportunity;  after 
he  has  reached  a  position  where  his  capacities  can  speak  for  them 
selves;  then  I  acknowledge  that  less  will  depend  upon  his  previous 
training  and  more  upon  his  native  endowments.  But  the  greatest 
want  of  a  mass  of  men  is  an  opportunity  to  exhibit  what  is  in  them. 
Give  them  this  opportunity,  and  if  they  have  any  vigor,  they  will 
display  it  and  insure  their  fortune.  Take  this  away  and  their  talent 
rusts  in  a  napkin.  The  most  perfect  seed  in  the  world  can  never  evolve 
its  powers,  until  it  finds  a  soil  in  which  to  germinate. 

Now  all  these,  and  ten  thousand  more  facts  like  unto  them,  will 
never  be  denied  or  gainsaid  by  any  person  acquainted  with  the  evolu 
tion  of  effects  from  causes.  And  what  is  the  motive  which  the 
teacher  should  derive  from  them?  Surely  no  less  than  this.  His 
every  day's  teaching  and  government  will  elevate  or  depress  the 
condition,  in  all  after  life,  of  every  pupil  in  his  school.  There  is  not 
one  of  all  the  children  around  him,  on  whom  his  daily  instruction  and 
treatment  will  produce  no  effect.  The  physical,  intellectual,  and 
moral  condition  of  each  is  to  be,  at  least  partially,  what  he  foredooms. 

A  child  has  a  feeble  constitution,  or  his  native  stamina  have  been 
broken  down  or  enfeebled,  in  early  life,  by  injudicious  exposure  or 
foolish  parental  indulgence.  Perhaps  it  is  now  too  late  ever  to  make 
a  healthy,  athletic  man  of  him.  That  once  attainable  blessing  may 
have  been  forfeited  beyond  redeeming.  What  then?  Is  he  not  still 
in  a  condition  to  be  made  either  better  or  worse?  By  a  knowledge 
and  application  of  the  laws  of  Physiology,  may  you  not  so  far  restore 


296  THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

him,  as  to  save  him  from  two  or  three  fits  of  sickness,  or  from  a 
painful,  costly  period  of  chronic  ailment  and  debility  ?  If  you  can 
not  prolong  his  years  to  seventy,  you  may  to  sixty,  or  at  least  to 
fifty,  instead  of  his  dying  at  thirty- five.  If  you  can  not  prevent  his 
liability  to  colds  and  weak  lungs,  you  may  at  least  save  him  from 
consumption  and  premature  death.  You  may  so  increase  his  health 
that  he  will  he  able  to  fill  positions  and  perform  duties  of  which  he 
would  otherwise  be  incapable.  Perhaps  you  may  give  him  just  lhat 
additional  degree  of  strength,  by  which,  when  encompassed  by  the 
perils  of  the  flood,  he  can  put  forth  the  one  stroke  more  which  will 
save  him  from  drowning.  Extensively  true  as  this  is  in  regard  to 
boys,  how  much  more  so  is  it  of  girls.  It  is  no  imagination  or  ex 
travagance  to  say,  that  your  judicious  or  injudicious  treatment  of  a 
delicate  girl,  during  a  single  winter's  school  term,  may  save  or  lose 
the  mother  of  a  young  family.  Here  you  have  a  whole  class  of  boys, 
not  one  of  whom  gives  token  of  that  talent  or  address  which  will 
secure  him  a  seat  in  the  Congress  of  the  United  States.  What  then? 
Can  not  you  make  some  of  them  fit  to  be  senators  or  representatives 
in  the  State  Legislature?  Or  if  this,  on  second  thought,  looks  a  little 
presumptuous,  can  you  not  qualify  more  or  less  of  them  for  some 
respectable  city  or  town  office? 

But  perhaps  some  of  you  will  here  remind  me  of  the  smith,  who 
had  a  piece  of  iron  of  which  he  said  he  would  make  an  axe.  But 
on  heating  and  hardening  and  hammering  it,  it  proved  wholly  insuffi 
cient  for  an  axe.  "Well,"  said  he,  "I  can  heat  it  again  and  make  a 
hatchet."  But  by  heating  and  tempering  it  the  second  time,  so  much 
of  the  substance  was  lost  in  cinders  and  scoriae,  that  it  now  proved  as 
insufficient  for  a  hatchet,  as  it  was  before  for  an  axe.  "  Well,"  said 
he,  "I  will  at  least  make  a  knife  of  it."  So  he  heated,  and  tried  to 
temper  it  the  third  time;  but  its  texture  had  been  destroyed,  and 
there  was  only  a  residuum  of  dross  left.  "Ay,"  cried  he,  in  a  pet, 
"I'll  heat  you  seven  times  hotter  than  before,  and  douse  you  into  the 
water,  and  make  a  mighty  great  hiss!!" 

Now  do  you  say  you  will  have  scholars  from  whom  you  can  make 
nothing  but  a  mighty  great  hiss;  or  perchance,  a  mighty  little  hiss, — 
two  or  three  bubbles  only?  I  reply  by  asking,  whether  you  may  not 
fall  into  the  same  error  as  did  the  hero  of  my  story.  Doubtless,  his 
piece  of  Iron,  in  the  beginning,  would  have  made  a  very  respectable 
hatchet;  but  It  was  by  a  series  of  over-estimates  that  its  owner 
reduced  it,  at  last,  to  the  smallest  kind  of  "slazle."  Do  not  teachers 
and  school-officers,  too,  make  the  same  sort  of  mistake,  when  they 
inflate  the  ambition  gf  all  the  boys  iq  the  school,  by  talking  to  them 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  297 

about  being  governors  and  presidents,  and  thus  disgusting  them  with 
the  sober  pursuits  of  life?  Probably  not  more  than  one  in  a  hundred 
thousand,  even  in  Massachusetts,  will  ever  be  governors;  and  even 
if  it  were  probable  that  she  could  ever  have  another  president,  her 
turn  would  not  come  once  in  fifty  years.  But  all  children  may  be 
that  "noblest  work  of  God,  an  honest  man,"  which  is  far  better  than 
any  chief  magistracy  of  state  or  nation. 

But  perhaps  you  will  here  retort  upon  me,  that  you  can  not  make 
all  children  honest.  Here,  for  instance,  say  you,  is  a  boy  whose 
natural  organization  is  frightfully  bad.  His  head  is  shaped  like  the 
segment  of  a  sphere  ;  his  eyes  are  close  together,  and  his  ears  close 
behind  his  eyes;  so  that  almost  the  entire  mass  of  his  brain  lies  at  the 
base  and  in  the  rear.  His  cranium  resembles  that  of  a  tiger  or  a  ser 
pent,  rather  than  that  of  a  man.  His  father  was  a  devil  and  his  mother 
no  better.  He  was  not  only  conceived  in  sin  and  brought  forth  in 
iniquity,  but  he  was  nursed  at  the  paps  of  intemperance  and  lewdness, 
from  his  birth  drank  milk  which  was  nothing  but  rum  leached  through 
human  lacteals,  and  this  too,  adulterated  by  the  basest  impurities 
of  heart  and  brain;  was  trained  to  steal  from  the  day  he  could 
walk,  to  swear  from  the  day  he  could  talk,  and  long  before  talking, 
could  lie  in  pantomime.  If  other  children  are  quantities,  more  or 
less,  dipped  out  of  the  infernal  cauldron  of  total  depravity,  he  is  its 
essential  oil,  its  rectified,  thrice  distilled  spirit, — the  Prussic  acid  of  it, 
and  the  sulphureted  hydrogen  of  it !  What  can  be  done,  I  hear  some 
of  you  defiantly  ask,  with  a  case  like  this?  I  acknowledge  this  to 
be  a  tough  problem.  I  admit  that  there  is  no  extraction  of  roots  so 
difficult  as  the  extirpation  of  vice  from  a  heart,  which  is  prone  to  evil 
as  the  sparks  to  fly  upwards.  Grant  then,  that  you  can  not,  from 
such  a  quasi-monster  as  has  been  supposed,  make  an  intelligent, 
honest,  exemplary,  high-souled  man.  But  can  you,  by  no  possibility, 
save  him  from  the  house  of  correction  or  the  county  jail?  Or  if  this 
would  be  hope  run  mad,  can  you  not  save  him  from  the  state-prison; 
or  at  least  reduce  his  sentence  to  one  of  ten  years,  instead  of  imprison 
ment  for  life?  Yes,  my  friends,  the  vilest  and  most  intractable  of 
them  all,  can  you  not  save  him  from  being  a  thief;  or  if  not  from 
theft,  then  from  highway  robbery;  or,  if  not  from  highway  robbery, 
then  from  incendiarism  and  murder;  or,  if  not  from  these,  then  from 
piracy  on  the  high-seas,  scuttling  ships,  and  murdering  crews ;  or,  once 
more  and  finally,  from  the  commission  of  all  these  atrocities,  together? 
Can  you  not  reduce  him  to  a  single  devil,  instead  of  his  being  a 
legion?  If,  animated  by  a  sublime  hope,  and  filled  with  the  wonder 
working  spirit  of  love,  you  can  do  all  or  any  of  these  things,  we  have 


298  TIIE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVM. 

reason  to  believe  that  you  will  cause  a  thrill  of  joy  among  the  angels 
of  heaven. 

Not  long  since,  I  visited  a  prison  in  a  neighboring  state,  and  spent 
the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  private  conversations  with  different 
prisoners,  in  order  to  learn  the  histories  of  their  temptation  and  fall, 
and  the  spirit  in  which  they  received  their  punishment  While  I  wa3 
there,  two  new  convicts  arrived.  I  went  to  the  receiving  lodge,  where 
they  were  delivered.  There  was  the  Prison-book,  in  which  was 
recorded  the  names,  ages,  occupation,  offence,  term  of  sentence,  and 
so  forth,  of  all  who  came  to  dwell  in  those  gloomy  abodes.  The  book, 
in  which  these  entries  were  made,  was  a  great  folio,  probably  of  not 
less  than  five  thousand  pages.  It  had  been  recently  procured,  and 
only  a  small  part  of  it  was  filled.  How  can  I  express  the  mournful 
interest  with  which  I  looked  along  the  pages  of  recorded  crime  and 
allotted  penalty.  What  a  sententious  column  was  that,  in  which  was 
written  "  For  two  years;"  " For  five  years ;"  " For  ten  years ;"  "For 
life ;" — and  that  other  column  containing  the  words,  "  Theft ;"  "  Rob 
bery;"  "Burglary;"  "Attempt  to  kill,"  and  so  forth.  Oh,  if  to  these 
culprits,  in  their  early  days,  God  had  sent  an  angel,  in  the  form  of  a 
wise  and  faithful  teacher,  would  those  terrible  words  ever  have  been 
written  against  their  names? — would  their  names  ever  have  been 
found  in  that  book? 

I  have  said  that  I  looked  with  an  inexpressibly  mournful  interest 
upon  the  sad  pages  of  that  book  which  had  been  already  filled.  But 
with  a  sadness  far  more  profound  and  solemn,  did  I  look  upon  the 
pages  which  had  not  been  filled, — whose  clear  white  sheets  had  not 
yet  been  blackened  by  the  records  of  guilt  and  condemnation.  We 
have  no  adequate  ground  for  hope,  that  those  yet  undefiled  pages  will 
never  be  filled ;  and  who  are  they  whose  names  are  to  be  written 
therein?  The  young  man,  bold,  fiery,  and  reckless,  whose  veins  are 
fermenting  with  the  new  wine  of  life;  but  into  whose  heart  no  moral 
alchymist  has  ever  infused  a  principle  which  will  transmute  his  ten 
dencies  for  evil  into  desires  for  good; — his  name  must  be  there.  The 
rash,  brave  boy  of  the  school-room ; — the  ringleader  in  sport  and  in 
mischief;  who  bears  the  severest  punishments  as  stoically  as  an  Indian 
bears  fire;  whose  fatal  misfortune  is  to  have  parents  or  teachers  insane 
enough  to  believe  that  they  can  extinguish  the  fervid  spirit  within 
him,  which  God  only  meant  they  should  direct; — his  name,  too> 
must  be  there.  Ay,  and  who  shall  say  that  the  name  of  the  sweet 
babe  in  its  mother's  arms, — whether  now  ejently  closing  its  eyes  to 
Bleep,  as  the  tender  flower  folds  its  petals  at  the  approach  of  eve,  or 
whether  waking  to  new-born  life  and  joy  after  reanimating  slumbers ; — 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES.  299 

Yes,  or  the  same  infant  coming  perfumed  with  baptismal  water  from 
the  holy  font; — who  shall  say  that  his  name,  too,  in  consequence  of 
over-indulgence  and  under  restraint,  shall  not  lengthen  out  that  black 
catalogue  of  guilt?  Teacher,  you  can  forefend  the  awful  hand 
writing,  in  books  like  these,  hy  a  sacred  hand-writing  upon  the  soul. 
Not  by  charms  and  talismans,  not  by  phylacteries  upon  the  garments, 
or  frontlets  upon  the  brow,  or  amulets  suspended  from  the  neck;  but 
by  a  cultivation  of  the  conscience,  by  the  living  and  sovereign  efficacy 
of  the  law  of  God  written  upon  the  heart,  you  may  do  this  holy 
work. 

But  we  have  been  looking  only  at  the  darkest  points  in  the  pic 
ture, — at  its  doleful  shadows,  and  not  at  its  celestial  lights.     In  our 
schools  are  to  be  found  the  greatest  elements  of  hope  for  our  country 
and  for  the  world.     Bright  talents  are  there,  which  shall  find  and 
follow   the  foot-prints  of  the  Deity,  and  reveal  to  us  more  of  his 
attributes,  by  revealing  to  us  more  of  His  marvelous  works.     The 
vivid  genius  is  there,  which  will  find  new  chords  in  the  human  soul, 
to  be  thrilled  with  joy.     The  capacities  of  benevolence  and  duty  are 
there,  which   shall  add  hosts  to  the  now  feeble  bands  of  philanthro 
pists,  who  shall  go  forth  to  do  battle  with  the  giant  iniquities  of  the 
world, — with  the  Titanian  sins  of  intemperance,  of  oppression  in  all 
its  forms,  with  the  spirit  of  war  and  with  bigotry.     The  executive 
and  administrative  talent  is  there,  which  for  good  or  for  evil,  shall 
ere  long  find  its  way  into  the  counsels  and  guide  the  energies  of  the 
State,  or  the  vaster  energies  of  the  nation.     These  powers  and  possi 
bilities  are  all  there,  and  it  is  hardly  a  license  of  speech  to  say  that 
you  hold  them  as  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand.     Go  to  your  work  then, 
as  if  worthy  the   custody  and  stewardship  of  these  mighty  interests. 
Replenish  your  energies  by  the  hopes  which  such  resources  legiti 
mately  supply.     Look  forward  to  the  glorious  results  which  fidelity  on 
your  part  must  assuredly  produce.     Stand  among  your  pupils   like 
prophets  and  seers,  and  labor  to  bring  nearer  the  vision  which  your 
prescience  reveals.     Consider  yourselves,  as  you  truly  are, — vice 
gerents  of  God,  placed  in  authority  over  the  richest  of  all  his  prov 
inces,  and  responsible  to  a  great  extent,  for  their  beauty  and  grandeur 
and  moral  well-being. 

Here  is  a  boy  who  seems  head-strong  and  obstinate, — stubborn 
almost  to  sullenness  ; — analyze  the  case ;  it  may  be,  that  this  exhibi 
tion  of  character  is  founded  upon  the  noble,  though  untrained  princi 
ples  of  conscience  and  firmness;  and  if  it  so  be,  you  have  only  to 
manage  the  case  wisely,  to  make  another  Martin  Luther  of  him; — a 
man  who  will  defy  the  Papal  anathemas  of  his  day,  as  did  the  old 


300  raE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

hero  of  Wittenburg,  in  the  fifteenth  century.     Here  are  two  play 
mates,  bound  together  as  it  were  by  some  congenial  affinity,  diligent 
in   study,  conspicuous  in  recitation;  but  vehement  and   vociferous, 
almost  beyond  endurance.     Do  not  alienate  these  youthful  Boanerges, 
by  the  base  motive  of  rivalry  and  emulation;  but  rather  strengthen 
their  attachment  and  guide  them  aright,  and  by  and  by,  perhaps  from 
different  parts  of  the  union,  they  may  meet  on  the  floor  of  Congress, 
not  to  contend  with  each  other,  at  the  head  of  hostile  factions,  but  to 
lift  their  voices  together,  like  true  sons  of  thunder,  against  corruption 
in  high  places.     Here  is  an  unsophisticated  child,  whose  voice  falters 
and  his  eye  moistens,  as  he  reads  the  story  of  some  wounded  or  im 
prisoned  bird,  or  of  a  hare  pursued  to  its  death  by  hounds,  quadruped 
and  biped.     It  was  a  beaming  seraph  from  the  throne  of  God,  then 
nestling  in  his  heart,  which  choked  that  voice  and  bedewed  that  eye. 
Save  him  from  the  profanation  of  ridicule  and  levity.     In  the  fullness 
of  time,  he  will  go  forth  to  give  sight  to  the  blind,  to  loose  the  tongue 
of  the  dumb,  to  gather  the  insane  from  their  living  tombs  and  heal 
demoniacs  in  the  spirit  and  with  the  power  of  Christ.     There  sits  a 
little  girl,  distinguished  from  all  the  rest  by  the  simplicity  of  her  dress, 
and  by  the  tenderness  with  which  she  watches  the  little  ones  of  the 
school  however  ill-clad  or  ill-mannered  they  may  be.     No  gaudy 
ribbons  delight  her  eye ;  no  gleeful  games  can  make  her  forgetful  of 
the  safety  or  the  comfort  of  others.     Rescue  her  from  the  pride  of 
wealth,  from  the  frivolity  and  emptiness  of  fashionable  life ;  and  when 
others  shall  be  wasting  their  time  at  theatres  and  assemblies,  she  will 
be  a  ministering  angel  to  the  poor,  in  their  crowded  hovels  and  cellars, 
and  sweetening  the  earth  with  her  footsteps,  as  she  goes  on  her  errand 
of  mercy  and  love.     Another,  as  quiet  of  mien,  but  of  bolder  resolve, 
like  Mrs.  Fry  or  Miss  Dix,  will  stand  before  Governors  and  Legisla 
tures,  hushing  the  storm  of  partizan  warfare  by  her  rebukes,  and 
making,  them,  for  very  shame,  if  for  no  better  reason,  provide  for  the 
woes  of  humanity. 

These,  my  friends,  and  such  as  these,  are  the  lofty  motives,  with 
which  every  teacher  should  go  to  his  school,  in  the  morning ;  with 
which  he  should  live  among  his  pupils  during  the  day;  and  in 
the  sustaining  consciousness  of  which,  he  should  seek,  at  night, 
the  rest  which  will  prepare  him  for  the  renewal  of  his  labors. 
With  the  faithful  and  fruitful  teacher,  not  a  day  will  pass,  in  which 
he  will  not  so  modify  and  ennoble  the  character  of  his  pupils, 
that  they  will  choose  a  wiser  and  more  exalted  course  of  conduct 
in  the  eventful  crises  of  life.  He  will  be  making  better  husbands 
and  wives,  better  fathers  and  mothers,  and  scattering  from  afar, 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES  39 1 

blessed  eras  of  goodness  and  joy  all  along  the  future  course  of  his 
pupils'  lives. 

Surrounded  by  these  motives,  and  summoned  onward  by  these 
hopes,  if  there  be  any  one  who  can  ever  talk  of  the  irksome  task  of 
instructing  the  young,  or  advocate  blows  as  the  chief  moral  instru 
mentality, — the  first  resort  in  cases  of  difficulty; — lei  him  throw 
aside  his  books  and  seize  the  ox-goad;  let  his  talk  no  longer  be  of 
children  but  of  bullocks ;— or  rather,  let  him  betake  himself  to  stone- 
hammering,  and  by  cheating  his  imagination  with  the  grateful  delusion 
that  granite  blocks  are  boys'  backs,  get  greater  day'j  work  out  of  his 
hard  bones  and  harder  heart. 

What  special  need  is  there  to  exhort  teachers  to  possess  their  souls 
in  patience  ?  A  teacher  has  no  more  excuse  for  passion,  because  of 
the  thousand  oversights  and  cases  of  forgetfulness,  and  carelessness, 
and  waywardness  in  a  group  of  young  children,  than  an  orchardist 
has  for  indulging  in  fits  of  anger,  because  his  fruits  are  acrid  while 
they  are  yet  immature,  or  untouched  by  the  hues  of  the  rainbow 
while  they  are  yet  unripe.  Waywardness  and  what  Carlyle  calls 
"  un-wisdorn,"  are  in  the  nature  of  childhood,  as  much  as  sourness  is 
in  the  nature  of  an  apple  or  a  berry,  before*  tt  has  had  time  to  be 
ripened;  or,  if  any  one  objects  to  this  expression  as  too  condemnatory  of 
the  nature  of  childhood  ;  still  it  can  not  be  denied  that  such  have  been 
the  transgressions  of  parents  that  children  do  inherit  painful  suscepti 
bilities  of  evil.  Yet  infinitely  more  blameworthy  are  the  fathers  who  ate 
the  grapes,  than  the  children  whose  teeth  have  been  set  on  edge  by  their 
sourness.  While  human  nature  remains  as  it  now  is,  we  must  expect 
much  of  inconsiderateness  and  aberration  in  the  young.  It  is  the 
special  function  and  office  of  a  teacher  to  supply  the  necessary  ame 
liorating  influences.  But  this  transforming  work  can  not  be  done  by 
one  day's  labor,  any  more  than  harvests  can  be  ripened  by  one  day's 
sunshine.  The  sun  and  clouds  might  as  well  refuse  to  shine  and 
shower,  because  the  various  growths  of  the  summer  are  not  perfected 
in  a  day.  Yet  with  what  calm  constancy  they  pursue  their  work . 
and  not  the  waste  and  loss  of  the  wide  wilderness  restricts  their 
bounty.  Under  the  slanting  beams  of  the  vernal  sun,  the  corn  germi 
nates,  the  fruit  trees  bud  and  blossom  and  the  vine  shoots  up  its 
branches.  As  yet,  however,  for  all  purposes  of  human  utility,  they 
are  worthless.  But  is  the  sun  wearied  or  discouraged  ?  Does  he  not 
ascend  the  heavens ;  does  he  not  lengthen  his  day,  and  pour  down 
upon  them  his  solstitial  fervor  ?  Still,  neither  in  the  corn,  nor  in  the 
fruit  is  there  any  sustenance  for  man,  and  the  young  grape  is  more 
bitter  than  wormwood  to  the  taste.  For  weeks  and  months  that  sun 


302  THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVES. 

labors  on,  increasing  the  ardor  of  his  beam? ;  till,  at  length,  the  rich 
fields  wave  a  welcome  to  the  harvester;  the  orchards  glow  with  orient- 
colored  fruitage;  and  in  the  fullness  of  gratitude,  the  grape  bursts 
with  its  nectariou.s  juices.  It  is  the  euthanasia  of  the  year.  It  is 
like  the  dying  psalm  of  a  righteous  man.  Look  at  that  miracle  of 
beauty,  the  century  plant.  For  lustrums  and  decades,  the  seasons 
and  the  elements  labor  on  to  bring  it  to  perfection,  but  seem  to  labor 
in  vain.  It  absorbs  the  nurture  of  generations  of  cultivators,  yet 
appears  to  make  no  requital  for  their  care.  But  at  length  its  slow 
maturing  powers  approach  their  crisis.  The  day  of  its  efflorescence 
comes.  The  gorgeous  flower  bursts  forth,  queenly,  beautiful  as 
Aphrodite  from  the  waves,  and  loading  the  air  with  the  gathered 
perfumes  of  a  hundred  years.  And  to  you,  my  friends,  this  is  the 
moral: — Not  a  ray  of  sunshine  ever  fell  upon  that  plant;  not  a  rain 
drop  nor  a  dew-drop  ever  fertilized  or  refreshed  it ;  not  a  kind  office 
of  its  guardian  was  ever  expended  upon  it,  which  is  not  now  remem 
bered  and  proclaimed  in  the  grandeur  of  its  bloom  and  the  richness 
of  its  fragrance.  Learn  a  lesson  from  the  ancient  oaks,  which  you 
pass  daily  in  your  walk  to  the  school -room.  In  rearing  them  to  their 
loftiness  and  majestic  proportions,  has  nature  ever  grown  weary  or 
impatient,  since  the  day  when  these  tiny  germs  cleft  the  shell?  Of 
all  the  occupations  among  men,  the  teacher,  who  knows  the  nobility 
of  his  work,  and  feels  its  divine  impulses,  has  the  least  need  of  pa 
tience.  The  delver  among  insensate  clods;  the  hewer  of  wood ;  the 
operative  who  spins  the  lifeless  thread  or  casts  the  monotonous  shuttle ; 
the  statesman  who  declares  himself  constrained  to  warp  the  eternal 
principles  of  rectitude  to  accommodate  his  policy  to  the  ignorance  and 
selfishness  of  men ;  the  minister  who  strives  to  soften  hearts,  which 
inveterate  sins  have  ossified;  the  judge  who  sends  human  beings  to 
the  state's  prison  or  the  gallows,  one  day's  work  of  whom  is  enough  to 
crush  the  life  out  of  a  man's  heart ; — the  soldier  who  slays  his  fellow- 
man  in  battle,  or  is  himself  slain ;— these  have  need  of  patience, — or 
something  else  I  know  not  what-,— but  to  enjoin  patience  upon  those 
whose  very  office  and  mission  it  is  to  prepare  children  for  all  the 
happiness  of  this  world,  and  to  bring  the  kingdom  of  heaven  round 
about  them,  is  an  intolerable  indignity  and  grievance. 

"What  I  long,  above  all  other  things  upon  earth,  to  see, — what 
prophets  and  kings  might  well  desire  to  see,  but  as  yet  have  never 
seen, — is  a  glorious  brotherhood  of  teachers,  whose  accomplished 
minds  and  great  hearts  are  bound  together  by  their  devotion  to  one 
object, — and  that  object  a  desire  to  reform  the  world, — to  re-impress 
upon  the  heart  of  man  the  almost  obliterated  image  of  his  Maker. 


THE  TEACHER'S  MOTIVBS 

Were  teachers  animated  by  the  spirit  which  inspii  es  the  martial  hero, 
such  a  union  and  for  such  an  object  would  not  be  postponed  to  be 
seen  by  happier  men  in  some  happier  age,  but  we  ourselves  should 
behold    it.     And  can  not  the  sublimer  motive   give  birth  to   the 
sublimer  effort?     Can  not  those  whose  office  it  is  to  reform  their 
fellow-men,  be  as  devoted  and  as  valiant  as   those  whose  office  it 
is    to  destroy  their  fellow-men  ?     Is   not   theirs   as   good  a  fight  ? 
Will  their  songs  of   triumph    be   less   exultant?     Will  not  palms 
as  fadeless    crown  their  victories?      If  we  marvel   greatly  at  the 
bravery  of  men  engaged  in  war,  have  we   not  far  greater  reason 
to  marvel  at   the   lukewarmness    and  unconcern  of  those  who  are 
engaged   in    the   holy   cause   of   enlightening    and    redeeming   the 
race?     Look  at  the  pages  of  history  for  thousands  of  years,  and  see 
what  those  who  have  sought  for  military  glory. — such  lurid  glory  as 
it  is, — have  borne  and  done.     Not  commanders  only,  but  subalterns 
and  common  soldiers  perform  feats  of  valor  that  seem  incredible ;  and 
their  bodies  might  be  blown  to  pieces   a  thousand  times,  before  the 
bravery  of  their 'hearts  could  be  subdued.     They  scale  mountain- 
lifted  forts,  whose  sides  are  precipices,  while  rocks  like  hail-stones  are 
falling  around  them.     The  blazing  hill  of  the  terraced  battery,  they 
charge  to  the  topmost  tier.     They  rush  to  the  field  where  the  grape 
is  showered  whose  vintage  is  blood.     As  siegers  and  besieged,  they 
fight  by  day  and  sleep  by  night,  within  range  of  that  newly-invented 
and  terrific  engine  of  destruction,  which  can  be  compared  to  nothing 
earthly  but   a  volcano   upon  wheels.     At  the  battle  of  Waterloo, 
Marshal  Ney  had  five  horses  shot  under  him,  and  he  dismounted  from 
the  sixth  and  charged  the  British  infantry  sword  in  hand      In  naval 
engagements,  how  often  do  officers  and  men  ply  their  guns,  till  the 
very  ship, — which  to  them  is   the  earth,  and  their  only   earth, — is 
swallowed  in  the  waves.     When  Paul  Jones  engaged  the  Serapis,  he 
lashed  his  ship  to  the  foe  in  the  embrace  of  death.     He   received 
the  enemy's  broadsides,  until  his  own  vessel  was  almost  reduced  to  a 
heap  of  floating  splinters.     Apparently  sinking,  he  was  summoned  to 
surrender.     "Surrender,"  said  Jones,  "I  hav'n't  yet  begun  to  fight." 
Where  in  our  ranks  are  the  Neys  and  Joneses  and  a  thousand  others 
of  the  mighty  men  of  valor  ?     Where,  amongst  us,  are  the  men  who 
will  forfeit  all  prospects  of  worldly  distinction,  surrender  their  ease, 
ptedge  their  fortunes,  sacrifice  health,  and  life  too,  if  need  be,  to  up 
hold  and  carry  forward  the  cause  of  education,  which,  more  than  any 
other,  is  the  cause  of  God  and  humanity  ?    If  our  motives  are  stronger 
than  those  of  the  shedders  of  human  blood,  why  should  not  our  arms 
and  hearts  be  stronger  than  theirs  also?    And  what  do  we  know  under 


304  TU1  TMACIUUl'fl  MOTIVES. 

the  heavens,  or, — I  speak  it  with  reverence, — wliat  do  we  know  above 
the  heavens,  which  can  excel  the  high  emprise  in  which  we  are  em 
barked  ?  The  world  is  to  be  redeemed.  For  six  thousand  years, 
with  exceptions  "few  and  far  between,"  the  earth  has  been  a  dwelliug- 
place  of  woe.  There  has  not  been  an  hour  since  it  was  peopled, 
when  war  has  not  raged,  like  a  conflagration,  on  some  part  of  the 
surface.  In  the  haughtiness  of  despotism,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
debasement  of  vassalage,  on  the  other,  the  idea  of  human  brotherhood 
has  been  lost.  The  policy  of  the  wisest  nations  has  been  no  higher 
than  to  punish  the  crimes  they  had  permitted,  instead  of  rewarding 
the  virtues  they  had  cherished.  Throughout  the  earth,  until  lately, 
and  now,  in  more  than  three  of  its  five  grand  divisions,  the  soldier 
and  the  priest  have  divided  and  devoured  it.  The  mass  of  the  human 
race  has  sojourned  with  animals, — that  is,  in  the  region  of  the  animal 
appetites;  and  though  the  moral  realms  have  been  discovered,  yet 
how  feebly  have  they  been  colonized.  But  it  is  impiety  to  sup 
pose  that  this  night  of  darkness  and  blood  will  always  envelope  the 
earth.  A  brighter  day  is  dawning,  and  education  is  its  day-star.  The 
honor  of  ushering  in  this  day,  is  reserved  for  those  who  train  up 
children  in  the  way  they  should  go.  Through  this  divinely  appointed 
instrumentality,  more  than  by  all  other  agencies,  the  night  of  igno 
rance  and  superstition  is  to  bo  dispelled,  swOrds  beat  into  ploughshares, 
captives  ransomed  and  rivers  of  Plenty  made  to  run,  where  the  rivers 
of  Intemperance  now  flow.  At  this  sight  "Angels  look  on  and  hold 
their  breath,  burning  to  mingle  in  the  conflict." 

But  the  joys  and  triumphs  of  this  conflict  are  not  for  angels;  they 
are  held  in  trust  for  those  teachers,  who,  in  the  language  of  Scripture, 
will  take  them  by  violence, — that  is,  by  such  a  holy  ardor  and  invin 
cible  determination  as  will  conquer  time  and  fate,  and  fulfill  the  con 
ditions,  on  which,  alone,  such  honors  can  be  won.  And  if  the  strong- 
voiced  angel,  who  flies  through  heaven  crying,  "  Woe,  woe,  woe,"  to 
the  inhabiters  of  the  earth,  is  ever  to  be  silenced,  he  will  be  silenced  by 
the  stronger  acclamations  of  those  whom  teachers  have  been  among 
the  blessed  and  honored  instruments  of  preparing  for  the  ransom  of 
the  world. 

NOTE. — This  Lecture  was  delivered  at  over  thirty  Conventions  or  Associations 
of  Teachers  in  seven  different  States. 


I.    EDUCATION:-A  NATIONAL  INTEREST. 


HISTORICAL    DEVELOPMENT. 


IN  the  ordinance  of  the  Congress  of  the  Confederation  in  1785, 
respecting  "the  disposing  of  lands  in  the  Western  territory,"  "sec 
tion  sixteen  of  every  township  "  was  reserved  for  the  maintenance 
of  public  schools. 

The  ordinance  of  1787,  "for  the  government  of  the  Territory 
northwest  of  the  river  Ohio,"  confirmed  the  ordinance  of  1785,  and 
declared  "  that  religion,  morality  and  knowledge  being  necessary  to 
good  government  and  the  happiness  of  mankind,  schools  and  the 
means  of  education  shall  be  forever  encouraged." 

The  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  after  setting  forth  in  the 
Preamble  in  words  of  sublime  import  the  national  objects  for  which 
the  people  of  the  United  States  had  ordained  this  fundamental  law, 
expressly  grants  to  Congress  the  power  "to  dispose"  of  the  public 
lands  and  other  property — "to  exercise  exclusive  jurisdiction"  over 
the  district  to  be  ceded  as  the  seat  of  government — and  "  to  lay 
and  collect  taxes,  &c.,  to  provide  for  the  common  defense  and 
general  welfare." 

In  the  Convention  of  1787,  which  framed  the  Constitution,  Mr. 
Charles  PincSney,  of  South  Carolina,  on  the  29th  of  May  and  the 
18th  of  August,  and  subsequently  Mr.  Madison,  of  Virginia,  sub 
mitted  propositions  "  to  provide  for  the  establishment  of  a  National 
University  at  the  seat  of  government,"  "for  the  advancement 
of  useful  knowledge,"  "  and  the  promotion  of  agriculture,  com 
merce,  trades  and  manufactures."  On  the  14th  of  September, 
both  of  these  delegates  moved  to  insert  in  the  list  of  powers 
vested  in  Congress,  "to  establish  a  university  in  which  no  preference 
or  distinction  should  be  allowed  on  account  of  religion."  This 
motion  was  opposed  by  Gouverneur  Morris,  of  New  York,  and  was 
lost,  as  reported  by  Mr.  Madison,  expressly  on  the  ground  that  the 
power  to  establish  such  a  university  was  included  in  the  grant  of 
exclusive  legislation  over  the  district  in  which  the  government 
should  be  located.  And  as  we  learn  from  other  sources,  and  from 

20 


300  EDUCATION  :-A  NATIONAL  INTEREST. 

the  subsequent  recommendations  by  President  Washington,  the 
power  to  encourage  agriculture,  trade,  manufactures,  and  education, 
was  understood  by  him,  and  other  s^htesmen,  to  be  included  in  the 
first  clause  of  the  enumerated  powers  of  Congress  "to  lay  taxes 
and  to  provide  for  the  common  defense  and  general  welfare  of  the 
United  States." 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

Fresh  from  the  discussions  of  the  Convention  which  framed  tho 
Constitution,  of  which  he  was  the  presiding  officer,  and  called  by  the 
unanimous  voice  of  his  countrymen  to  inaugurate,  as  its  chief  execu 
tive,  the  national  government,  George  Washington,  in  his  first 
formal  recommendation  of  special  measures  to  both  Houses  of  Con 
gress,  on  the  8th  of  January,  1790,  after  commending  further  legis 
lation  for  an  efficient  and  uniform  plan  of  military  organization,  as 
well  as  of  a  national  judiciary,  calls  attention  to  the  necessity  of 
"uniformity  in  the  currency,  weights  and  measures;"  "the 
advancement  of  agriculture,  commerce,  and  manufactures,"  "the 
effectual  encouragement,  as  well  as  to  the  introduction  of  new 
and  useful  inventions  from  abroad,  as  to-  the  exertions  of  skill  and 
genius  in  producing  them  at  home ;"  "facilitating  the  intercourse 
between  the  distant  parts  of  our  country  by  a  due  attention  to  the 
post-office,  and  post-roads" — did  not  hesitate  to  add : — 

Nor  am  I  less  persuaded,  that  you  will  agree  with  me  in  opinion,  that  there 
ia  nothing  which  can  better  deserve  your  patronage  than  the  promotion  of  sci 
ence  and  literature.  Knowledge  is  in  every  country  the  surest  basis  of  public 
happiness.  In  one,  in  which  the  measures  of  government  receive  their  impres 
s-ion  so  immediately  from  the  sense  of  the  community,  as  in. ours,  it  is  propor- 
tionably  essential.  To  the  security  of  a  free  constitution  it  contributes  in 
various  ways:  by  convincing  those  who  are  intrusted  with  the  public  adminis 
tration,  that  every  valuable  end  of  government  is  best  answer^  by  the  enlight 
ened  confidence  of  the  people;  and  by  teaching  the  people  themselves  to  know 
and  to  value  their  own  rights;  to  discern  and  provide  against  invasions  of 
them  ;  to  distinguish  between  oppression  and  the  necessary  exercise  of  lawful 
authoritv,  hjbtween  burdens  proceeding  from  a  disregard  to  their  convenience 
and  those  resulting  from  the  inevitable  exigencies  of  society ;  to  discriminate 
the  spirit  of  liberty  from  that  of  licentiousness,  cherishing  the  first,  avoiding 
the  last,  and  uniting  a  speedy  but  temperate  vigilance  against  encroachments, 
with  an  inviolable  respect  for  the  laws. 

Whether  this  desirable  object  will  be  the  best  promoted  by  affording  aid  to 
peminaiie.s  of  learning  already  established,  by  the  institution  of  a  national  uni 
versity,  or  by  any  other  expedients,  will  be  well  worthy  of  a  place  in  tho 
deliberations  of  the  legislature. 

In  his  speech  to  both  Houses  of  Congress,  December  7th,  179C, 
after  referring  to  the  measures  adopted  for  the  encouragement  of 
manufactures,  and  urging  immediate  attention  to  agriculture  as  a 
matter  of  individual  and  national  welfare — and  especially  of  consti 
tuting  a  board  (or  as  has  since  been  done,  by  a  National  Depart- 


EDUCATION  :— A  NATIONAL  INTEREST. 


307 


raent)  "  charged  with  collecting  and  diffusing  information,  and 
enabled  by  premiums  and  small  pecuniary  aids  to  encourage,  and 
assist  a  spirit  of  discovery  and  improvement.  This  species  of 
establishment  contributes  doubly  to  the  increase  of  improvement, 
by  stimulating  to  enterprise  and  experiment,  and  by  drawing  to  a 
common  center  the  results  everywhere  of  individual  skill  and  obser 
vation,  and  spreading  them  thence  over  the  whole  nation" — he  again 
returns  to  the  expediency  of  establishing  a  national  university,  and 
also  a  military  academy  ;  and  proceeds : — 

The  assembly  to  which  I  address  myself,  is  too  enlightened  not  to  be  fully 
sensible  how  much  a  flourishing  state  of  the  arts  and  sciences  contributes  to 
national  prosperity  and  reputation.  True  it  is,  that  our  country  contains  many 
seminaries  of  learning  highly  respectable  and  useful ;  but  the  funds  upon  which 
they  rest  are  too  narrow  to  command  the  ablest  professors,  in  the  different 
departments  of  liberal  knowledge  for  the  institution  contemplated,  though  they 
would  be  excellent  auxiliaries. 

Amonggt  the  motives  to  such  an  institution,  the  assimilation  of  the  principles, 
opinions  and  manners  of  our  countrymen,  by  the  common  education  of  a  por 
tion  of  our  "youth  from  every  quarter,  well  deserves  attention.  The  more 
homogeneous  our.  citizens  can  be  made  in  these  particulars,  the  greater  will  be 
our  prospect  of  permanent  union;  and  a  primary  object  of  such  a  national 
institution  should  be,  the  education  of  our  youth  in  the  science  of  government. 
In  a  republic,  what  species  of  knowledge  can  be  equally  important,  and  what 
duty  more  pressing  in  its  legislation,  than  to  patronize  a  plan  of  communicating 
it  to  those  who  are  to  be  the  future  guardians  of  the  liberties  of  the  country. 

Tn  a  letter  addressed  to  Alexander  Hamilton,  from  Philadelphia, 
'September  1st,  1796,  referring  to  the  topics  which  he  wished  to  intro 
duce  in  his  Farewell  Address,  a  draft  of  which  he  had  enclosed  in  a 
former  letter,  Washington  regrets  "that  another  subject  (which  in 
my  estimation  is  of  interesting  concern  to  the  well-being  of  this 
country)  was  not  touched  upon  also  ;" — 

I  mean  education  generally,  as  one  of  the  surest  means  of  enlightening  and 
giving  just  ways  of  thinking  to  our  citizens,  but  particularly  the  establishment 
of  a  university;  where  the  youth  from  all  parts  of  the  United  States  might 
receive  the  polish  of  erudition  in  the  arts,  sciences,  and  belles-lettres;  and 
where  those  who  were  disposed  lo  run  a  political  course  might  not  onlj'-  be 
instructed  in  the  theory  and  principles,  but  (this  seminary  being  at  the  seat  of 
the  general  government,  where  the  legislature  would  be  in  session  half  the 
year,  and  the  interests  and  politics  of  the  nation  of  course  would  be  discussed,) 
they  would  lay  the  surest  foundation  for  the  practical  part  also. 

But  that  which  would  render  it  of  the  highest  importance,  in  my  opinion,  is, 
that  at  the  juvenile  period  of  life,  when  friendships  are  formed,  and  habits  es 
tablished,  that  will  stick  by  one,  the  youth,  or  young  men  from  "different 
parts  of  the  United  States  would  be  assembled  together,  and  would  by  degrees 
discover  that  there  was  not  that  cause  for  those  jealousjes  and  prejudices  which 
one  part  of  the  Union  had  irnbib%d  against  another  part: — of  course  sentiments 
of  move  liberality  in  the  general  policy  of  the  country  would  result  from  it. 
What  but  mixing  of  people  from  different  parts  of  the  United  States  during 
the  war  rubbed  off  those  impressions  ?  A  century,  in  the  ordinary  intercourse, 
would  not  have  accomplished  what  the  seven  years'  association  in  arms  did  ; 
but  that  ceasing,  prejudices  are  beginning  to  revive  again,  and  never  will  be 
eradicated  so  effectually  by  any  other  means  as  the  intimate  intercourse  of  char 
acters  in  early  life, — who  in  all  probability  will  be  at  the  head  of  the  counsels 
of  this  country  in  a  more  advanced  stage  of  it. 


308  EDUCATION  :-A  NATIONAL  INTEREST. 

To  show  that  this  is  no  new  idea  of  mine,  I  may  appeal  to  my  early  commu 
nications  to  Congress ;  and  to  prove  how  seriously  I  have  reflected  on  it  since, 
and  how  well  disposed  I  have  been,  and  still  am,  to  contribute  my  aid  toward 
carrying  the  measure  into  effect,  I  enclose  you  the  extract  of  a  letter  from  me 
to  the  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  a  copy  of  the  resolves  of  the  legislature  of 
that  State  in  consequents  thereof. 

1  have  not  the  smallest  doubt  that  this  donation  (when  the  navigation  is  in 
complete  operation,  which  it  certainly  will  be  in  less  than  two  years.)  will 
amount  to  £1200  or  £1500  sterling  a  year,  and  become  a  rapidly  increasing 
fund.  The  proprietors  of  the  Federal  City  have  talked  of  doing  something 
"handsome  towards  it  likewise;  and  if  Congress  would  appropriate  some  of  the 
western  lands  to  the  same  uses,  funds  sufficient,  and  of  the  most  permanent 
and  in  -roasiug  sort,  might  be  so  established  as  to  iuvite  the  ablest  professors  in 
Europe  to  conduct  it. 

In  a  letter  to  Hamilton,  dated  Sept.  6,  1796,  Washington  adds: 

If  you  think  the  idea  of  a  university  had  better  be  reserved  for  the  speech  at 
the  opening  of  the  session,  I  am  content  to  defer  the  communication  of  it  until 
th  it  period :  but  even  in  that  case,  I  would  pray  you,  as  soon  as  convenient,  to 
m:ike  a  draft  for  the  occasion,  predicated  on  the  ideas  with  which  you  have 
b:*en  furnished:  looking  at  the  same  lime  at  what  was  said  on  this  head  in  my 
se-nnl  speech  to  the  first  Congress,  merely  w.th  a  view  to  see  what^was  said  on 
the  subject  ;U  that  time ;  and  this,  you  will  perceive,  was  not  40  much  to  the 
poiiit  a«  I  wmt  to  express  now,  though  it  may,  if  proper,  be  glanced  at,  to  show 
that  tlte  subject  had  caught  my  attention  early. 

I  nr.ich  question  whether  a  recommendation  of  this  measure  to  the  legisla 
ture  will  have  a  better  effect  nnv  than  formerly.  It  may  show,  indeed,  my 
sen^e  of  its  importance,  and  that  is  a  sufficient  inducement  with  m-  to  bring  the 
matter  b More  the  public  in  some  shape  or  another  at  the  cl<>se  of  my  political 
lif  >.  My  object  in  proposing  to  insert  it  when  I  did.  w.is  to  set  the  jwple  rumi- 
natin  r  on  the  importance  of  the  measure,  as  the  most  likely  means  of  bringing 
it  to  pnss. 

In  his  Farewell  Address  to  the  people  of  the  United  States,  dated 
September  17,  1796,  Washington  gave  utterance  to  that  noble  sen 
timent  which  has  passed  into  an  axiom  of  political  philosophy  : — 

Promote,  as  an  object  of  primary  importance,  institutions  for  the  general  dif 
fusion  of  knowledge.  In  proportion  as  the  structure  of  a  government  gives 
force  to  public  opinion,  it  is  essential  that  public  opinion  should  be  enlightened. 

Washington  did  not  confine  the  expressions  of  his  interest  in 
education,  and  especially  the  establishment  of  a  national  university, 
to  his  official  communications  to  Congress  and  to  the  people  of  the 
United  States.  In  a  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Adams,  the  Vice  Pres 
ident,  dated  Nov.  27,  1794,  on  a  proposition  communicated  by  Mr. 
Jefferson,  for  "  transplanting  the  members  entire  of  the  University 
of  Geneva  to  America,"  there  is  the  following  passage: — 

That  a  national  university  in  this  country  is  a  thing  to  be  desired,  ha^  always 
been  my  decided  opinjon ;  and  the  appropriation  of  ground  and  funds  for  it  in 
the  Federal  City  has  long  been  contemplated  and  talked  of;  but  how  far  ma 
tured,  or  how  far  the  transporting  of  an  entire  seminary  of  foreigners,  who  may 
not  understand  our  language,  can  be  assimilated  therein,  is  more  than  I  am 
prep:*r  d  to  give  an  opinion  upon;  or,  indeed,  how  far  funds  in  either  case  are 
attainable. 

On  28th  of  January,  1795,  Washington  addressed  from  Phila 
delphia,  the  following  letter  to  the  Commissioners  of  the  federal 
District : — 


EDUCATION  :-A  NATIONAL  INTEREST.  399 

GENTLEMEN — A  plan  for  the  establishment  of  a  university  in  the  Federal  City 
has  frequently  been  the  subject  of  conversation ;  but,  in  what  manner  it  is  pro 
posed  to  commence  this  important  institution,  on  how  extensive  a  scale,  the 
means  by  which  it  is  to  be  effected,  how  it  is  to  be  supported,  or  what  progress 
is  made  in  it,  are  matters  altogether  unknown  to  me. 

It  has  always  been  a  source  of  serious  reflection  and  sincere  regret  with  me, 
that  the  youth  of  the  United  States  should  be  sent  to  foreign  countries  for  the 
purpose  of  education.  Although  there  are  doubtless  many,  under  these  circum 
stances,  who  escape  the  danger  of  contracting  principles  unfavorable  to  repub 
lican  government,  yet  we  ought  to  deprecate  the  hazard  attending  ardent  and 
susceptible  minds,  from  being  too  strongly  and  too  early  prepossessed  in  favor 
of  other  political  systems,  before  they  are  capable  of  appreciating  their  own. 

For  this  reason  I  have  greatly  wished  to  see  a  plan  adopted,  by  which  the 
arts,  sciences,  and  belles-lettres  could  be  taught  in  their  fullest  extent,  thereby 
embracing  all  the  advantages  of  European  tuition,  with  the  means  of  acquiring 
the  liberal  knowledge,  which  is  necessary  to  qualify  our  citizens  for  the  exigen 
cies  of  public  as  well  as  private  life;  and  (which  with  me  is  a  consideration  of 
great  magnitude)  by  assembling  the  youth  from  the  different  parts  of  this  rising 
republic,  contributing  from  their  intercourse  and  interchange  of  information  to 
the  removal  of  prejudices,  which  might  perhaps  sometimes  arise  from  local 
circumstances. 

The  Federal  City,  from  its  centrality  and  the  advantages  which  in  other 
respects  it  must  have  over  any  other  place  in  the  United  States,  ought  to  be 
preferred,  as  a  proper  site  for  such  a  university.  And  if  a  plan  can  be  adopted 
upon  a  scale  as  extensive  as  I  have  described,  and  the  execution  of  it  should 
commence  under  favorable  auspices  in  a  reasonable  time,  with  a  fair  prospect 
of  success,  I  will  grant  in  perpetuity  fifty  shares  in  the  navigation  of  the  Poto 
mac  River  towards  the  endowment  of  it 

What  annuity  will  arise  from  these  fifty  shares,  when  the  navigation  is  in  full 
operation,  c;in  at  this  time  be  only  conjectured;  and  those,  who  are  acquainted 
with  it,  can  form  as  good  a  judgment  as  myself. 

As  the  design  of  this  university  has  assumed  no  form  with  which  I  am 
acquainted,  and  as  I  am  equally  ignorant  who  the  persons  are,  who  have  taken 
or  are  disposed  to  take  the  maturing  of  the  plan  upon  themselves,  I  have  been 
at  a  loss  to  whom  I  should  make  this  communication  of  my  intentions.  If  the 
Commissioners  of  the  Federal  City  have  any  particular  agency  in  bringing  the 
matter  forward,  then  the  information,  which  I  now  give  to  them,  is  in  its  proper 
course.  IF,  on  the  other  hand,  they  have  no  more  to  do  in  it  than  others,  who 
may  be  desirous  of  seeing  so  important  a  measure  carried  into  effect,  they  will 
be  so  good  as  to  excuse  my  using  them  as  the  medium  for  disclosing  these  my 
intentions;  because  it  appears  necessary,  that  the  funds  for  the  establishment 
and  support  of  the  institution  should  be  known  to  the  promoters  of  it ;  and  I 
see  no  mode  more  eligible  for  announcing  my  purpose. 

In  February,  1795,  Mr.  Jefferson  addressed  from  Monticello  a 
letter  to  President  Washington,  in  reference  to  a  proposition  of  M. 
D'lvernois,  and  the  Professors  of  the  University  of  Geneva,  Swit 
zerland,  to  remove  in,  a  body  to  the  United  States,  and  establish 
here  a  University,  "  comprehending  a  College  of  Languages,  pre 
paratory  to  the  principal  one  of  Sciences,  and  also  a  third  one  for 
the  gratuitous  teaching  of  reading  and  writing  to  the  poor."  Mr. 
Jefferson,  in  view  of  a  previous  communication  from  Washington, 
as  to  his  intention  to  aid  by  testamentary  devise,  the  establishment 
of  a  National  University,  thinks  the  acceptance  of  this  proposition, 
with  modifications,  will  give  "  the  institution  at  the  outset  such  eclat, 
and  such  solid  advantages,  as  would  insure  a  very  general  concourse 


3  1  Q  EDUCATION  :— A  NATIONAL  INTEREST. 

to  it  of  the  youths  from  all  our  States,  and  probably  from  other 
parts  of  America." 

The  composition  of  the  academy  can  not  be  settled  there.  It  must  be  adapted 
to  our  circumstances,  and  can  therefore  only  be  fixed  between  them  and  per 
sons  hero  acquainted  with  those  circumstances,  and  conferring  for  the  purpose 
after  their  arrival  here.  For  a  country  so  marked  for  agriculture  as  ours,  I 
should  think  no  professorship  so  important  as  one  not  mentioned  by  them,  a 
professor  of  agriculture,  who,  before  the  students  should  leave  college,  should 
carry  them  through  a  course  of  lectures  on  the  principles  and  practice  of  agri 
culture;  and  that  this  professor  should  come  from  no  country  but  England. 
Indeed  I  should  mark  Young  as  the  man  to  be  obtained.  These,  however,  are 
•  modifications  to  be  left  till  their  arrival  here. 

To  this  letter,  Washington  replied  on  the  15th  of  March,  1795 : — 

I  had  little  hesitation  in  giving  the  Federal  City  a  preference  over  all  other 
places  for  the  institution,  for  the  following  reasons.  First,  on  account  of  its 
being  the  permanent  ^seat  of  the  government  of  this  Union,  and  where  the  laws 
and  policy  of  it  must  be  better  understood  than  in  any  local  part  thereof.  Sec 
ondly,  because  of  its  centrality.  Thirdly,  because  one  half  (or  near  it)  of  the 
Distriet  of  Columbia  is  within  the  Commonwealth  of  Virginia,  and  the  whole 
of  the  State  not  inconvenient  thereto.  Fourthly,  because,  as  a  part  of  the 
endowment,  it  would  be  useful,  but  alone  would  be  inadequate  to  the  end. 
Fifthly,  because  m;my  advantages,  I  conceive,  would  result  from  the  jurisdiction 
which  the  general  government  will  have  over  it,  which  no  other  spot  would 
possess.  And,  lastly,  as  this  seminary  is  contemplated  for  the  completion,  of 
education  and  study  of  the  sciences,  not  for  boys  in  their  rudiments,  it  will 
afford  the  students  an  opportunity  of  attending  the  debates  in  Congress,  and 
thereby  becoming  more  liberally  and  better  acquainted  with  the  principles  of 
law  and  government. 

My  judgment  and  my  wishes  point  equally  strong  to  the  application  of  the 
James  River  shares  to  the  same  subject  at  the  same  place;  but,  considering  the 
source  from  whence  they  were  derived.  I  have,  in  a  letter  I  am  writing  to  the 
executive  of  Virginia  on  this  subject,  left  the  application  of  them  to  a  seminary 
within  the  State,  to  be  located  by  the  legislature. 

Hence  you  will  perceive,  that  I  have  in  a  degree  anticipated  your  proposition. 
I  was  restrained  from  going  the  whole  length  of  the  suggestion  by  the  follow 
ing  considerations.  First,  I  did  not  know  to  what  extent  or  when  any  plan 
would  be  so  matured  for  the  establishment  of  a  university,  as  would  enable 
any  assurances  to  be  given  to  the  application  of  M.  D'lvernois.  Secondly,  the 
propriety  of  transplanting  the  professors  in  a  body  might  be  questioned  for  sev 
eral  reasons:  among  others,  because  they  might  not  be  all  good  characters,  nor 
all  sufficiently  acquainted  with  our  language.  And  again,  having  been  at 
variance  with  the  leveling  party  of  their  own  country,  the  measure  might  be 
considered  as  an  aristocratical  movement  by  more  than  those,  who,  without 
any  just  cause  that  I  can  discover,  are  continually  sounding  the  boll  of  aristoc 
racy.  And,  thirdly,  because  it  might  preclude  some  of  the  first  professors  in 
other  countries  from  a  participation,  among  whom  some  of  the  most  celebrated 
characters  in  Scotland,  in  this  line,  might  be  obtained. 

My  letter  to  the  commissioners  has  bound  me  to  the  fulfillment  of  what  is 
therein  engaged;  and  if  the  Legislature  of  Virginia,  on  considering  the  subject, 
should  view  it  in  the  same  light  as  I  do,  the  James  River  shares  will  be  added 
thereto:  for  I  think  one  good  institution  of  this  sort  is  to  be  preferred  to  two 
imperfect  ones,  which,  wi:hout,  ether  aid  than  the  shares  in  both  navigations,  is 
more  likely  to  fall  through,  than  to  succeed  upon  the  plan  I  contemplate;  which 
ia,  in  a  few  words,  to  supersede  the  necessity  of  sending  the  youth  of  this  coun 
try  abroad  for  the  purpose  of  education,  where  too  often  principles  and  habits 
unfriendly  to  republican  government  are  imbibed,  and  not  easily  discarded. 
Instituting  such  a  one  of  our  own,  as  will  answer  the  end,  and  associating  them 
in  the  same  seminary,  will  contribute  to  wear  off  those  prejudices  and  unrea 
sonable  jealousies,  which  prevent  or  weaken  friendships  and  impair  the  har 
mony  of  the  Union. 


EDUCATION:— A  NATIONAL  INTEREST.  3^ 

On  the  16th  of  March,  1795,  Washington  addressed  the  follow 
ing  letter  to  Gov.  Brooke  of  Virginia  : — 

SIR: — Ever  since  the  General  Assembly  of  Virginia  were  pleased  to  submit  to 
my  disposal  fifty  shares  in  the  Potomac,  and  one  hundred  in  the  James  River 
Company,  it  has  been  my  anxious  desire  to  appropriate  them  to  an  object  most 
worthy  of  public  regard. 

It  is  with  indescribable  regret,  that  I  have  seen  the  youth  of  the  United 
States  migrating  to  foreign  countries,  in  order  to  acquire  the  higher  Branches  of 
erudition,  and  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  the  sciences.  Although  it  would  be 
injustice  to  many  to  pronounce  the  certainty  of  their  imbibing  maxims  not 
congenial  with  republicanism,  it  must  nevertheless  be  admitted,  that  a  serious 
danger  is  encountered  by  sending  abroad  among  other  political  systems  those 
who  have  not  well  learned  the  value  of  their  own. 

The  time  is  therefore  come,  when  a  plan  of  universal  education  ought  to  be 
adopted  in  the  United  States.  Not  only  do  the  exigencies  of  public  and  private 
life  demand  it,  but,  if  it  should  ever  be  apprehended,  that  prejudice  would  be 
entertained  in  one  part  of  the  Union  against  another,  an  efficacious  remedy  will 
be,  to  assemble  the  youth  of  every  part  under  such  circumstances  as  will,  by 
the  freedom  of  intercourse  and  collision  of  sentiment,  give  to  their  minds  the 
direction  of  truth,  philanthropy,  and  mutual  conciliation. 

It  has  been  represented,  that  a  university  corresponding  with  these  ideas  is 
contemplated  to  be  built  in  the  Federal  City,  and  that  it  will  receive  considera 
ble  endowments.  This  position  is  so  eligible  from  its  centrality,  so  convenient 
to  Virginia,  by  whose  legislature  the  shares  were  granted  and  in  which  part  of 
the  Federal  District  stands,  and  combines  so  many  other  conveniences,  that  I 
iiave  determined  to  vest  the  Potomac  shares  in  that  university. 

Presuming  it  to  be  more  agreeable  to  the  General  Assembly  of  Virginia,  that 
the  shares  in  the  James  River  Company  should  be  reserved  for  a  similar  object 
in  some  part  of  that  State,  I  intend  to  allot  them  for  a  seminary  to  be  erected 
at  such  place  as  they  shall  deem  most  proper.  I  am  disposed  to  believe,  that  a 
seminary  of  learning  upon  an  enlarged  plan,  but  yet  not  coming  up  to  the  full 
idea  of  a  university,  is  an  institution  to  be  preferred  for  the  position  which  is  to 
be  chosen.  The  students,  who  wish  to  pursue  the  whole  range  of  science,  may 
pass  with  advantage  from  the  seminary  to  the  university,  and  the  former  by  a 
due  relation  may  be  rendered  cooperative  with  the  latter. 

I  can  not  however  dissemble  my  opinion,  that  if  all  the  shares  were  conferred 
on  a  university,  it  would  become  far  more  important,  than  when  they  are  di 
vided  ;  and  I  have  been  constrained  from  concentering  them  in  the  same  place, 
merely  by  my  anxiety  to  reconcile  a  particular  attention  to  Virginia  with  a 
great  good,  iti  which  she  will  abundantly  share  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the 
United  States. 

I  must  beg  the  favor  of  your  Excellency  to  lay  this  letter  before  that  honora 
ble  body,  at  their  next  session,  in  order  that  I  may  appropriate  the  James  River 
shares  to  the  place  which  they  may  prefer.  They  will  at  the  same  time  again 
accept  my  acknowledgments  for  the  opportunity,  with  which  they  have  favored 
me,  of  attempting  to  supply  so  important  a  desideratum  in  the  United  States  as 
a  university  adequate  to  our  necessity,  and  a  preparatory  seminary. 

This  letter  was  accordingly  communicated  to  the  Assembly  at 
their  next  session,  when  the  following  resolves  were  passed : — 

IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  DELEGATES,  December  1st,  1795. 

Whereas  the  migration  of  American  youth  to  foreign  countries,  for  the  com 
pletion  of  their  education,  exposes  them  to  the  danger  of  imbibing  political 
prejudices  disadvantageous  to  their  own  republican  forms  of  government,  and 
ought  therefore  to  be  rendered  unnecessary  and  avoided ; 

Resolved,  that  the  plan  contemplated  of  erecting  a  university  in  the  Federal 
City,  where  the  youth  of  the  several  States  may  be  assembled,  and  their  course 
of  education  finished,  deserves  the  countenance  and  support  of  each  State. 

And  whereas,  when  the  General  Assembly  presented  sundry  shares  in  the 
James  Riv.er  and  Potomac  Companies  to  George  Washington,  as  a  small  token 


3 1  2  EDUCATION  :-A  NATIONAL  INTEREST. 

of  their  gratitude  for  the  great,  eminent,  and  unrivaled  services  he  had  ren 
dered  to  this  Commonwealth,  to  the  Unit-ed  States,  and  the  world  at  large,  in 
support  of  the  principles  of  liberty  and  equal  government,  it  was  their  wish  and 
desire  that  he  should  appropriate  them  as  he  might  think  best;  and  whereas, 
the  present  General  Assembly  retain  the  same  high  sense  of  his  virtues,  wis 
dom,  and  patriotism ; 

/few/ret/,  therefore,  that  the  appropriation  by  the  said  George  Washington  of 
the  aforesaid  shares  in  the  Potomac  Company  to  the  university,  intended  to  be 
erected  in  the  Federal  City,  is  made  in  a  manner  most  worthy  of  public  regard, 
and  of  the  approbation  of  this  Commonwealth. 

Rexol'-ed,  also,  that  he  be  requested  to  appropriate  the  aforesaid  shares  in  the 
James  River  Company  to  a  seminary  at  such  place  in  the  upper  country,  as  he 
may  deem  most  convenient  to  a  majority  of  the  inhabitants  thereof. 

The  following  are  provisions  of  Washington's  last  Will : — 

— As  it  has  always  been  a  source  of  serious  regret  with  me  to  see  the 
youth  of  these  United  States  sent  to  foreign  countries  for  the  purposes  of 
education,  often  before  their  minds  were  formed,  or  they  had  imbibed  any  ade 
quate  ideas  of  the  happiness  of  their  own ;  contracting,  too  frequently,  not  only 
habits  of  dissipation  and  extravagance,  but  principles  unfriendly  t/>  republican 
government,  and  to  the  true  and  gunnin-i  liberties  of  mankind,  which  thereafter 
are  rarely  overcome;  for  these  reasons  it  has  been  my  ardent  wish  to  see  apian 
devised  on  a  liberal  scale,  which  would  have  a  tendency  to  spread  systematic 
ideas  through  all  parts  of  this  rising  empire,  thereby  to  do  away  local  attach 
ments  and  Suite  prejudices,  as  far  as  the  nature  of  things  would,  or  indeed 
ought  to  admit,  from  our  national  councils.  Looking  anxiously  forward  to  the 
accomplishment  of  so  desirable  an  object  as  this  is  (in  my  estimation),  my  mind 
has  not  been  able  to  contemplate  any  plan  more  likely  to  affect  the  measure, 
than  the  establishment  of  a  University  in  a  central  part  of  the  United  States,  to 
which  youths  of  fortune  and  talents  from  all  parts  thereof  may  be  sent  for  the 
completion  of  their  education  in  all  branches  of  polite  literature,  in  arts 
and  sciences,  in  acquiring  knowledge  in  the  principles  of  politics  and  good  gov 
ernment;  and,  as  a  matter  of  infinite  importance  in  my  judgment,  by  associa 
ting  with  each  other,  and  forming  friendships  in  juvenile  years,  be  enabled  to 
free  themselves  in  a  proper  degree  from  those  local  prejudices  and  habitual 
jealousies,  Which  have  just  been  mentioned,  and  which,  when  carried  to  excess, 
are  never-failing  sources  of  disquietude  to  the  public  mind,  and  pregnant  with 
mischievous  consequences  to  the  country.  Under  these  impressions, 

I  give  and  bequeath  in  perpetuity  the  fifty  shares  which  I  hold  in  the 
Potomac  Company  (under  the  aforesaid  acts  of  the  Legislature  of  Virginia,) 
towards  the  endowment  of  a  university  to  be  established  within  the  limits  of 
the  District  of  Columbia,  under  the  auspices  of  the  general  government,  if  that 
government  should  incline  to  extend  a  fostering  hand  towards  it;  and  until 
such  seminary  is  established,  and  the  funds  arising  on  these  shares  be  required 
for  its  support,  my  further  will  and  desire  is,  that  the  profit  accruing  therefrom 
shall,  whenever  the  dividends  are  made,  be  laid  out  in  purchasing  stock  in  the 
bank  of  Columbia,  or  some  other  bank,  at  the  discretion  of  my  executors,  or  by 
the  treasurer  of  the  United  States  for  the  time  being,  under  the  direction  of 
Congress,  provided  that  honorable  body  should  patronize  the  measure;  and  the 
dividends  proceeding  therefrom  are  to  be  vested  in  more  stock,  and  so  on  until 
a  sum  adequate  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  object  is  obtained,  of  which  I 
have  not  the  smallest  doubt  before  many  years  p;i-s  away,  even  if  no  aid  or 
encouragement  is  given  by  legislative  authority,  or  from  any  other  source. 

The  hundred  shares,  which  I  hold  in  the  James  River  Company,  I  have 
given,  and  now  confirm,  in  perpetuity,  to  and  for  the  use  and  benefit  of  Liberty 
Jlall  Academy,  in  the  county  of  Rockbridge,  in  the  commonwealth  of  Virginia. 

We  shall  continue  this  Historical  Development  of  the  National 
Aspects  of  Education  through  successive  administrations,  down  to 
the  action  of  Congress  at  its  last  session. 


I.    THE  STATE  AND   EDUCATION. 

A.N   ADDRiSSS   TO   THE   PEOPLE   OP   NEW  JERSEY   IN    1838.* 


FELLOW  CITIZENS  : — We  were  appointed  by  the  Convention  of 
your  own  delegates  to  address  you  on  the  subject  of  Common 
Schools.  We  approach  you  with  solicitude,  as  'deeply  sensible  of 
the  great  importance  of  the  interest  intrusted  to  us ;  yet,  as  free 
men  speaking  to  freemen,  with  prevailing  confidence. 

The  points  which  we  propose  for  your  attention,  and,  if  we 
might,  would  press  into  every  heart,  are  few,  simple  and  practical ; 
the  necessary  consequences,  it  seems  to  us,  from  principles  which 
all  admit.  We  say  that  knowledge  is  the  universal  right  of  man  :\ 
arid  we  need  bring  no  clearer  demonstration  than  that  intellectual 
nature,  capable  of  it,  thirsting  for  it,  expanding  and  aspiring  with  it, 
which  is  God's  own  argument  in  every  living  soul.  We  say  that 
the  assertion  for  himself  of  this  inherent  right,  to  the  full  measure 
of  his  abilities  and  opportunities,  is  the  universal  duty  of  man  :  and  / 
that  whoever  fails  of  it,  thwarts  the  design  of  his  Creator ;  and,  in 
proportion  as  he  neglects  the  gift  of  God,  dwarfs  and  enslaves  and 
brutifies  the  high  capacity  for  truth  and  liberty  which  he  inherits. 
And  all  experience,  and  every  page  of  history  confirm  the  assertion,  in 
the  close  kindred,  which  has  everywhere  been  proved,  of  ignorance 
and  vice  with  wretchedness  and  slavery.  And  we  say  farther,  that 
the  security  of  this  inherent  right  to  every  individual,  and  its  ex 
tension,  in  the  fullest  measure,  to  the  greatest  number,  is  the  univer 
sal  interest  of  man  ;  so  that  they  who  deny  or  abridge  it  to  their 
fellows,  or  who  encourage,  or,  from  want  of  proper  influence,  per 
mit  them  to  neglect  it,  are  undermining  the  foundations  of  govern 
ment,  weakening  the  hold  of  society,  and  preparing  the  way  for 
that  unsettling  and  dissolving  of  all  human  institutions,  which  must 
result  in  anarchy  and  ruin,  and  in  which  they  who  have  the  greatest 
stake  must  be  the  greatest  sufferers.  A  lesson,  clearly  taught  by 


*The  Convention  assembled  in  Trenton  on  the  27th  and  28th 
tice  Hornblower  presiding.     The  address  was  prepared  by  the 
in  behalf  of  a   Committee   consisting  of  Bibhop    Doane,  Chairman, 
Rhees,   T.  Frelinghuysen,    J.  S.  Green,    D.  B.  Ryall.    A.  B.  Uod,    A.  Atwood,    and    S.  R 
Gummere. 


h  of  January,  1839,  Chief  Jus  / 
le  Rt  Rev.  George  W.  Doane,/ 
•man,  L.  Q.  C.  Elmer,  M  J/ 


3U  THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

that  divine  philosophy,  in  which  the  Maker  of  mankind  becomes 
their  Teacher;  reveals  the  world  as  but  one  neighborhood,  and  men 
as  brethren  of  one  family ;  and  writes  upon  all  social  institutions 
these  golden  truths,  the  fundamentals  and  essentials  of  the  true  po 
litical  economy,  which  neither  individuals  nor  nations  have  ever 
disregarded  with  impunity, — "all  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that 
men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them" — "  none  of  us  liveth 
to  himself" — "whether  one  member  suffer,  all  the  members  suffer 
with  it ;  or  one  member  be  honored,  all  the  members  rejoice  with 
it" — "bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfill  the  law  of 
Christ." 

If  the  truth  of  these  positions  be  established,  their  application  is 
self-evident.  And  there  never  was  a  nation,  since  the  world  was 
made,  in  which  their  obligation  was  so  clear,  or  its  application  so 
important.  In  the  theory  of  our  constitution,  the  people  are  the 
governors.  In  practice,  they  ought  to  be.  And  is  ignorance  the 
qualification  for  good  government?  Would  you  select  a  man  to 
make  your  laws  who  can  not  read?  Or  one  who  can  not  write  to 
execute  them  ?  Yet  the  authority  which  they  exercise,  and/  the 
abuses  of  which  they  are  capable,  are  nothing,  in  comparison  with 
theirs,  from  whom  all  power  proceeds,  and  without  whose  permis 
sion  no  wrong  can  be  clone.  Fellow  citizens,  we  are  republicans. 
Our  c-  untry  is  our  common  wealth.  We  have  all  an  equal  share  in 
her.  Her  laws  are  alike  for  the  protection  of  all.  Her  institutions 
are  alike  for  the  advantage  of  all.  Her  blessings  are  our  common 
privilege.  Her  glory  is  our  common  pride.  But  common  privi 
leges  impose  a  common  responsibility.  And  equal  rights  can  never 
be  disjoined  from  equal  duties.  The  constitution  which,  under 
God,  secures  our  liberties,  is  in  the  keeping  of  us  all.  It  is  a  sacred 
trust  which  no  man  can  delegate.  He  holds  it  for  himself,  not 
only,  but  for  his  children,  for  posterity,  and  for  the  world.  And  he 
who  can  not  read  it,  who  does  not  understand  its  provisions, 
who  could  not  on  a  just  occasion,  assert  its  principles,  no  more  sus 
tains  the  character  of  an  American  citizen,  than  the  man  who  would 
not  seal  it  with  his  blood. 

It  is  in  vain  to  say  that  education  is  a  private  matter,  and  that  it 
is  the  duty  of  every  parent  to  provide  for  the  instruction  of  his  own 
children.  In  theory,  it  is  so.  But  there  are  some  who  can  not,  and 
there  are  more  who  will  not,  make  provision.  And  the  question 
then  is,  shall  the  State  suffer  from  individual  inability,  or  from  indi 
vidual  neglect  ?  When  the  child  who  has  not  been  trained  up  in 
the  way  in  which  he  ought  to  go,  commits  a  crime  against  the  State, 


THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION.  3^5 

the  law'  with  irun  hand,  comes  in  between  the  parent  and  his  off 
spring,  and  takes  charge  of  the  offender.  And  shall  there  be  pro 
vision  to  punish  only,  and  hone  to  prevent?  Shall  the  only  offices 
in  which  the  State  is  known  be  those  of  jailor  and  of  executioner? 
Shall  she  content  herself  with  the  stern  attribute  of  justice,  and 
discard  the  gentler  ministries  of  mercy  ?  It  was  said  of  Draco's 
taws  that  they  were  writ  with  blood.  Is  it  less  true  of  any  State 
which  makes  provision  for  the  whipping-post,  the  penitentiary,  the 
scaffold,  and  leaves  the  education  of  her  children  to  individual  ef 
fort  or  precarious  charity  ?  It  was  well  said  by  the  distinguished 
head  of  our  Judiciary,*  even  more  distinguished  as  the  President 
of  the  late  convention  for  Common  Schools,  "  the  State  has  an  in 
terest  in  every  child  within  her  limits."  May  not  still  more  than 
this  with  equal  truth  be  said, — the  welfare,  nay,  the  being  of  the 
State  is  bound  up  in  the  character  of  every  child?  Think  of  the 
blessings  which  Washington,  and  Franklin,  and  Fulton,  and  Mar 
shall,  have  brought  down  upon  our  land  !  Think  of  the  scorn  and 
execration  which  the  name  of  Arnold  brings  with  it,  the  single 
name  in  our  whole  history  at  which  the  nation  needs  to  blush ! 

K  the  positions  be  maintained,  that  the  education  of  the  people  is 
indispensable  to  the  preservation  of  free  institutions,  and  that  it  is 
therefore  the  duty  of  every  free  State  to  provide  for  the  education  of 
her  children,  we  are  prepared,  fellow  citizens,  for  the  inquiry,  how\ 
far  has  provision  been  made  for  the  discharge  of  this  duty  in  the 
Stale  'with  which  we  are  most  intimately  connected,  the  State  of  New 
Jersey  ?  That  the  duty  of  making  some  provision  for  this  end  has 
long  been  recognized,  the  twenty-one  years  which  have  elapsed 
since  the  passage  of  the  first  act  "  to  create  a  fund  for  the  support 
of  free  schools"  sufficiently  attest.  That  what  has  been  done  is 
insufficient  you  have  yourselves  borne  witness  in  the  general  im 
pulse  which,  in  December  and  January  last,  originated  so  many  of 
those  primary  assemblies — in  our  republic  the  true  sources  of  power 
and  influence — for  the  consideration  of  this  subject ;  and  in  that 
large,  intelligent,  and  most  respectable  convention,  composed  of 
delegates,  chosen  by  yourselves,  to  express  your  own  views  on  the 
provisions  for  the  public  instruction,  by  which  it  was  resolved  with 
singular  unanimity,  that  "  the  general  laws  of  this  State  on  the  sub 
ject  of  Common  Schools  are  essentially  defective  and  ought  to  be 
repealed."  Into  the  question,  "  What  shall  be  substituted  for  the 
.present  law  ?"  the  convention  did  not  enter.  It  was  for  them  to  de- 

*  Chief  Justice  Flornblower,  by  his  deportment  as  the  presiding  officer  of  the  Convention,  aildea 
new  dignity  to  his  office,  and  to  himself. 


316  T"l-  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

clare  the  wishes  of  the  people  for  a  more  effective  systcnf  of  in 
struction.  The  plan  and  its  provisions  they  left  with  perfect  confi 
dence  to  the  wisdom  of  the  Legislature.  The  course  which  the 
convention  pursued  is  even  more  becoming  for  us.  The  rather,  as 
the  matter  is  at  this  very  moment  in  the  course  of  legislative  action. 
And  after  all,  fellow  citizens,  the  question,  **  What  the  law  is  ?"  is  by 
no  means  so  important  as  the  question,  "  What  is  public  sentiment  ?" 
If  the  people  are  but  right  the  Legislature  never  will  be  greatly 
wrong.  Or  if  they  should,  the  remedy  is  easy,  and  the  cure  infal 
lible. 

Omitting  all  considerations,  then,  of  what  has  been  or  of  what 
may  be  legislative  enactments  on  the  subject,  we  address  you  as  the  / 
Sovereign  People,  and  we  say  that  "  it  in  your  duty  and  your  hiyh-  \ 
est  interest  to  provide  and  to  maintain,  within  the  reach  of  every  child,  n 
the  means  of  such  an  education  as  will  qualify  him  to  discharge  lhe\ 
duties  of  a  citizen  of  the  Republic  ;  and  will  enable  him,  by  subse 
quent  exertion,  in  the  free  exercise  of  the  unconquerable  will,  to 
attain  the  highest  eminence  in  knowledge  and  in  power  which  God 
may  place  within  his  reach.  We  utterly  repudiate  as  unworthy, 
not  of  freemen  only,  but  of  men,  the  narrow  notion  that  there  is  to 
be  an  education  for  the  poor,  as  such.  Has  God  provided  for  the 
poor  a  coarser  earth,  a  thinner  air,  a  paler  sky  ?  Does  not  the  glo 
rious  sun  pour  down  his  golden  flood  as  cheerily  upon  the  poor 
man's  hovel  as  upon  the  rich  man's  palace  ?  Ilave  not  the  cotter's 
children  as  keen  a  sense  of  all  the  freshness,  verdure,  fragrance, 
melody,  and  beauty  of  luxuriant  nature  as  the  pale  sons  of  kings? 
Or  is  it  on  the  mind  that  God  has  stamped  the  imprint  of  a  baser 
birth  so  that  the  poor  man's  child  knows  with  an  inborn  certainty 
that  his  lot  is  to  crawl,  not  climb  ?  It  is  not  so.  God  has  not  done 
it.  Man  caii  not  do  it.  Mind  is  immortal.  Mind  is  imperial.  It 
bears  no  mark  of  high  or  low,  of  rich  or  poor.  It  heeds  no  bound 
of  time  or  place,  of  rank  or  circumstance.  It  asks  but  freedom. 
It  requires  but  light.  It  is  heaven-born,  and  it  aspires  to  heaven. 
Weakness  does  not  enfeeble  it.  Poverty  can  not  repress  it.  Diffi 
culties  do  but  stimulate  its  vigor.  And  the  poor  tallow  chandler's 
son  that  sits  up  all  the  night  to  read  the  book  which  an  apprentice 
lends  him  lest  the  master's  eye  should  miss  it  in  the  morning,  shall 
stand  and  treat  with  kings,  shall  add  new  provinces  to  the  domain 
of  science,  shall  bind  the  lightning  with  a  hempen  cord  and  bring 
it  harmless  from  the  skies.*  The  Common  School  is  common,  not 
as  inferior,  not  as  the  school  for  poor  men's  children,  but  as  the 

See  Franklin's  Life. 


\ 


THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION.  gj/* 

/  light  and  air  are  common.      It  ought  to  be  the  best  school  because 

/  it  is  the  first  school;  and  in  all  good  works  the  beginning  is  one- 

I    half.      Who  does  not  know  the  value  to  a  community  of  a  plentiful 

supply  of  the  pure  element  of  water?      And  infinitely  more  than 

this  is  the  instruction  of  the  common  School;  for  it  is  the  fountain 

at  which  the  mind  drinks,  and  is  refreshed  and  strengthened  for  its 

career  of  usefulness  and  glory. 

Fellow  citizens,  it  is  the  wise  ordinance  of  God  that  man  shall 
work  for  what  he  values.  In  all  the  dealings  of  your  ordinary  life, 
you  act  upon  the  principle.  You  plow  your  fields.  You  urge 
your  spindles.  You  ply  your  fisheries.  You  tend  your  shops.  With 
sweat  of  brow,  or  sweat  of  brain,  each  precious  thing  that  man 
possesses  must  be  gained  and  kept.  At  no.  less  price  can  liberty 
and  its  attendant  blessings  be  enjoyed.  "That  which  makes  a 
good  constitution,"  said  wise  and  prudent  William  Penn,*  "  must 
also  keep  it,  men  of  wisdom  and  virtue :  qualities  which,  because 
they  descend  not  with  inheritance,  must  be  carefully  propagated  by 
a  virtuous  education  of  youth."  Ask  not,  then,  when  we  enjoin  on 
you  the  duty  of  providing  for  the  public  instruction,  where  the  cost 
shall  come  from  ?  Were  your  house  beset  with  robbers  would  you 
stop  to  ask  the  cast  of  its  defense  ?  If  an  invading  arrny  were  to 
land  to-morrow  on  our  shores  must  we  stop  to  count  the  cost  before 
we  march  to  meet  and  to  repel  them?  The  Common  Schools  are 
in  the  place  to  us  of  arms,  and  troops,  and  fleets.  They  are  our 
nurseries  of  mpn.  They  are  indeed  "  the  cheap  defense  of  nations." 

"What  constitutes  a  State  ? 
Not  high-raised  battlements  or  labored  mound, 

Thick  wall,  or  moated  gate ; 
Not  cities  proud,  with  spires  and  turrets  crowned, 

Not  bays  and  broad-armed  ports, 
"Where,  laughing  at  the  storm,  rich  navies  ride ; 

Not  starred  and  spangled  courts, 
"Where  low-browed  baseness  wafts  perfume  to  pride, 

No— MEN,  high-minded  MEN. 

Men  who  their  duties  know, 

But  know  their  rights,  and  knowing,  dare  maintain; 
Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
L.nd  crush  the  tyrant,  while  they  rend  the  chain : 
LThese  constitute  a  State.f 

Fellow  citizens,  it  is  for  you  to  say  what  shall  be  the  present 
character,  what  shall  be  the  future  destiny  of  New  Jersey.  We 

*  Preface  to  the  Frame  of  Government,  1682.        |  Sir  William  Jones,  in  imitation  of  Alcseus 


318  THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

have  indeed  a  goodly  heritage.  But  it  has  been  long  and  shame 
fully  neglected.  We  have  Undervalued  our  privileges.  \Ve  have 
overlooked  our  duties.  We  have  been  content  to  be  a  pendent 
merely,  when  we  ought  to  be  an  independent  State.  There  is 
now,  thank  God,  the  sound  as  of  a  trumpet  in  the  land  that  stirs 
the  old  heroic  blood.  We  foci  the  remnant  sparks  of  the  forgotten 
fire  which  warmed  our  fathers'  hearts.  The  spirit  of  the  elder  day 
is  breathing  on  us  with  its  quickening  and  invigorating  power.  Let 
us  accept  the  omen.  Let  us  obey  the  noble  impulse.  Let  us  arise 
to  duty  and  to  glory.  Men  of  New  Jersey,  it  is  you  that  are  to 
rise.  You  are  the  State.  You  create  and  you  control  the  Legisla 
ture.  You  enact  and  you  sustain  the  laws.  Yours  are  the  means. 
Yours  is  the  influence.  Yours  is  the  work.  You  make,  you  are  the 
State.  Go  on  as  you  have  now  begun.  The  system  of  Common 
Schools  which  shall  be  adopted  by  the  present  legislature,  take  into 
your  own  hands.  If  it  is  not  what  it  should  be,  see  that  the  next 
legislature  make  it  such.  Act  together.  Act  with  system.  Act 
like  men.  The  organization  for  the  purpose  is  complete.  The 
General  Committee,  the  Committees  of  correspondence  for  the 
counties,  the  Committees  of  the  townships — there  is  not  an  inch 
of  ground  that  is  not  reached,  there  is  not  a  cttizen  of  New  Jersey 
whose  heart  may  not  be  roused  by  this  electric  chain*.  Lay  to  your 
hands,  then,  and  employ  it  well.  The  work  is  great,  and  great 
must  be  the  effort,  and  great  the  confidence.  You  must  trust  your 
selves.  You  must  trust  your  fellow  citizens.  You  must  trust  the 
legislature.  A  system  of  public  instruction  is  a  great  and  arduousX 
enterprise.  You  must  repose  such  confidence  in  those  who  are  to/ 
frame  it  as  shall  enable  them  to  do  it  well.  When  it  is  framed  you 
will  do  wisely  to  commit  its  oversight,  subject  to  legislative  super 
vision,  to  a  judicious  Board,*  selected  carefully  from  your  most  . 
tried  and  faithful  men,  with  wisdom  to  direct  and  with  devotion  to 
exert  its  powers.  Above  all,  give  the  direction  of  the  engine,  withx. 
a  large  and  liberal  discretion,  to  a  skillful  engineer.  And  when  it  \ 
is  made,  and  manned,  and  set  in  operation,  you  must  still  support  I 
it,  you  must  watch  over  it,  you  must  be  yourselves  a  part  of  it.  / 
The  School  Fund  is  not  equal  to  the  work.  And  if  it  were,  it 
would  not  be  so  well  for  you.  Tax  yourselves  for  the  support  of 

*  It  i*  said  that  there  are  prejudices  against  a  Board  of  Education,  and  a  Superintendent.  \Va 
can  hardly  think  that  they  are  general.  If  no,  our  appettl  is  to  the  good,  sterling,  common  seiine  of 
the  people  of  New  Jersey.  Is  there  a  turnpike  roud,  or  a  steamboat,  or  a  bank,  or  a  cotton  fac 
tory,  whose  affairs  are  not  intrusted  to  a  Hoard  of  Managers  ?  Is  there  a  mil!  in  all  the  State 
without  a  miller,  or  a  locomotive  in  the  Innd  without  an  engineer  ?  Is  the  education  of  the  peo 
ple  leas  important  than  all  these  ?  Or  is  the  system  of  public  education  to  be  the  only  case  of  u 
machine  that  goes  alone? 


THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION.  319 

Common  Schools  and  you  will  never  be  in  danger  of  taxation  from  a\ 
foreign  power — yon  will  need  less  taxation  for  the  support  of  pauper 
ism,  and  the  punishment  of  crime.      Look  to  your  school-houses. 
See  that  they  are  convenient  of  access,  that  they  are  comfortable, 
that  they  are  neat  and  tasteful.       Look  to  the  teachers.      See  that 
they  are  taught  themselves,  and  apt  to  teach ;  men  that  fear  God, 
and  love  their  country.     See  that  they  are  well  accommodated,  well/ 
treated,  well  remunerated.      Respect  them  and  they  will    respect! 
themselves,  and   your  children   will   respect  them.      Look  to  the  \ 
scholars.     .  Have  them  much  in  your  eye,  and  always  in  your  heart.  I 
Remember  you  are  to  grow  old  among  them.     Remember  you  are  J 
to  die,  and  leave  your  country  in  their  hands.  ^ 

"  Good  Common  Schools,"  says  Governor  Everett,  of  Massaclm-  I 
setts,  "are  the  basis  of  every  wise  system  of  popular  education."] 
This  is  precisely  what  they  are,  the  basis  of  a  system ;  but  the  basis 
only.  Let  us  n<jw  lay  their  broad  foundations  deep  and  strong — 
foundations  that  will  stand  themselves  and  bear  the  noble  structure 
which  our  children  and  our  children's  children,  as  we  trust,  will 
rear  upon  them.  We  are  the  citizens  of  a  small  State.  We  can 
not,  by  our  votes,  control  the  electoral  college.  We  can  not,  by 
our  political  influence,  aspire  to  be  the  empire  State  of  the  confede 
racy.  But  there  is  a  nobler  empire,  whose  dominion  does  not  come 
by  numbers  or  by  physical  power.  We  may  aspire,  if  we  are  just 
to  ourselves  and  to  our  opportunities,  to  wield  the  suffrages  of  mind. 
The  men  of  Athens  were  but  few,  their  territory  small,  their  soil 
indifferent.  Yet  did  Athenian  arms  prevail  against  the  myriads  of 
the  East ;  and  to  Athenian  letters  and  Athenian  arts  admiring  na 
tions  still  award  the  palm.  In  the  same  noble  lists  let  us  engage ; 
and  make  the  mastery  of  intellect  the  prize  of  our  ambition.  Let 
us  devote  ourselves  and  consecrate  the  State  to  the  great  work  of 
education.  Let  us  lay  hold  in  earnest  of  the  remarkable  advant 
ages  which  we  possess  in  this  respect,  in  our  accessible  position,  our 
temperate  climate,  our  freedom  from  absorbing  interests,  the  mod 
erate  habits,  and  the  simple  manners  of  our  people.  Let  us  sustain 
our  present  seats  of  learning ;  and  let  kindred  institutions  in  every 
varied  form  be  multiplied  about  us.  Let  us  collect  the  children  of 
the  land  :  and  on  their  minds  make  the  mark  which  shall  go  down 
to  latest  generations.  Let  other  States  excel  in  commerce,  or  in 
agriculture,  or  in  manufacturies.  But  let  the  staple  of  our  State  be 
mind  ;  the  products  of  our  soil,  with  God  to  bless  the  culture, 
knowledge,  and  patriotism,  and  virtue  ;  our  highest  object  and  our 
Doblest  aim  to  be  the  State  of  Common  Schools,  Academies,  and 
Colleges,  the  educating  State,  the  nursery  of  freemen. 


£20  THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

That  which  makes  a  good  Constitution  must  keep  it.  viz:  men  of  wis 
dom  and  virtue :  qualities  that,  because  they  descend  not  with  worldly 
inheritance,  must  be  carefully  propagated  by  a  virtuous  education  of 
youth,  for  which  spare  no  cost,  for  by  such  parsimony,  all  that  is  saved 
is  lost  WILLIAM  PENN.  Instructions  to  Council. 

Promote,  as  an  object  of  primary  importance,  institutions  for  the  gen 
eral  diffusion  of  knowledge.  In  proportion  as  the  structure  of  a  govern 
ment  gives  force  to  public  opinion,  it  is  essential  that  public  opinion 
should  be  enlightened. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON.     Farewell  Address. 

The  wisdom  and  generosity  of  the  Legislature  in  making  liberal  appro 
priations  in  money  for  the  benefit  of  schools,  academies  and  colleges,  is 
an  equal  honor  to  them  and  their  constituents,  a  proof  of  their  veneration 
for  letters  and  science,  and  a  portent  of  great  and  lasting  good  to  North 
and  South  America,  and  to  the  world.  Great  is  truth — great  is  liberty — 
great  is  humanity — and  they  must  and  will  prevail. 

JOHN  ADJIMS.     Inaugural. 

I  look  to  the  diffusion  of  light  and  education  as  the  resources  most  to 
be  relied  on  for  ameliorating  the  condition,  promoting  the  virtue,  and  ad 
vancing  the  happiness  of  man.  And  I  do  hope,  in  the  present  spirit  of 
extending  to  the  great  mass  of  mankind  the  blessings  of  instruction,  I  see 
a  prospect  of  great  advancement  in  the  happiness  of  the  human  race,  and 
this  may  proceed  to  an  indefinite,  although  not  an  infinite  degree.  A 
system  of  general  instruction,  which  shall  reach  every  description  of  our 
citizens,  from  the  richest  to  the  poorest,  as  it  was  the  earliest,  so  it  shall 
be  the  latest  of  all  the  public  concerns  in  which  I  shall  permit  myself  to 
take  an  interest.  Give  it  to  us,  in  any  shape,  and  receive  for  the  inesti 
mable  boon  the  thanks  of  the  young,  and  the  blessings  of  the  old,  who 
are  past  all  other  services  but  prayers  for  the  prosperity  of  their  country, 
and  blessings  to  those  who  promote  it.  THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

Learned  institutions  ought  to  be  the  favorite  objects  with  every  free 
people ;  they  throw  that  light  over  the  public  mind  which  is  the  best 
security  against  crafty  and  dangerous  encroachments  on  the  public  lib 
erty.  They  multiply  the  educated  individuals,  from  among  whom  the 
people  may  elect  a  due  portion  of  their  public  agents  of  every  description, 
more  especially  of  those  who  are  to  frame  the  laws:  by  the  perspicuity, 
the  consistency,  and  the  stability,  as  well  as  by  the  justice  and  equal 
spirit  of  which,  the  great  social  purposes  are  to  be  answered. 

JAMES  MADISON. 

Moral,  political,  and  intellectual  improvement,  are  duties  assigned  by 
the  author  of  our  existence  to  social,  no  less  than  to  individual  man. 
For  the  fulfillment  of  these  duties,  governments  are  invested  with  power, 
and  to  the  attainment  of  these  ends,  the  exercise  of  this  power  is  a  duty 
Bacred  and  indispensable.  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 


AMERICAN  AUTHORITIES.  321 

For  the  purpose  of  promoting  the  happiness  of  the  State,  it  is  abso 
lutely  necessary  that  our  Government,  which  unites  into  one  all  the 
minds  of  the  State,  should  possess  in  an  eminent  degree  not  only  the  un 
derstanding,  the  passions,  and  the  will,  but  above  all,  the  moral  faculty 
and  the  conscience  of  an  individual.  Nothing  can  be  politically  right 
that  is  morally  wrong;  and  no  necessity  can  ever  sanctify  a  law  that  is 
contrary  to  equity.  Virtue  is  the  soul  of  a  Republic.  To  promote  this, 
laws  for  the  suppression  of  vice  and  immorality  will  be  as  ineffectual  as 
the  increase  and  enlargement  of  goals.  There  is  but  one  method  of  pre 
venting  crime  and  of  rendering  a  republican  form  of  government  durable; 
and  that  is,  by  disseminating  the  seeds  of  virtue  and  knowledge  through 
every  part  of  the  State,  by  means  of  proper  modes  and  places  of  educa 
tion  ;  and  this  can  be  done  effectually  only  by  the  interference  and  aid 
of  the  legislature.  I  am  so  deeply  impressed  with  this  opinion,  that  were 
this  the  last  evening  of  my  life,  I  would  not  only  say  to  the  asylum  of  my 
ancestors  and  my  beloved  native  country,  with  the  patriot  of  Venice, 
"  Esto  perpetua"  but  I  would  add,  as  the  best  proof  of  my  affection  for 
her,  my  parting  advice  to  the  guardians  of  her  liberties,  establish  and 
support  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS  in  every  part  of  the  State.  BENJAMIN  RUSH. 

There  is  one  object  which  I  earnestly  recommend  to  your  notice  and 
patronage;  I  mean  our  institutions  for  the  education  of  youth.  The  im 
portance  of  common  schools  is  best  estimated  by  the  good  effects  of  them 
where  they  most  abound,  and  are  best  regulated.  Our  ancestors  have 
transmitted  to  us  many  excellent  institutions,  matured  by  the  wisdom 
and  experience  of  ages.  Let  them  descend  to  posterity,  accompanied 
with  others,  which  by  promoting  useful  knowledge,  and  multiplying  the 
blessings  of  social  order,  diffusing  the  influence  of  moral  obligations,  may 
be  reputable  to  us,  and  beneficial  to  them.  JOHN  JAY. 

The  first  duty  of  government,  and  the  surest  evidence  of  good  govern 
ment,  is  the  encouragement  of  education.  A  general  diffusion  of  knowl 
edge  is  the  precursor  and  protector  of  republican  institutions,  and  in  it 
we  must  confide  as  the  conservative  power  that  will  watch  over  our  liber 
ties  and  guard  them  against  fraud,  intrigue,  corruption  and  violence.  I 
consider  the  system  of  our  Common  Schools  as  the  palladium  of  our  free 
dom,  for  no  reasonable  apprehension  can  be  entertained  of  its  subversion, 
as  long  as  the  great  body  of  the  people  are  enlightened  by  education.  To 
increase  the  funds,  to  extend  the  benefits,  and  to  remedy  the  defects  of 
this  excellent  s}7stcm,  is  worthy  of  your  most  deliberate  attention.  I  can 
not  recommend,  in  terms  too  strong  and  impressive,  as  munificent  appro 
priations  as  the  faculties  of  the  State  will  authorize  for  all  establishments 
connected  with  the  interests  of  education,  the  exaltation  of  literature  and 
science,  and  the  improvement  of  the  human  mind. 

DE  WITT  CLINTON.     Message  as  G-ov-ernor. 

The  parent  who  sends  his  son  into  the  world  uneducated,  defrauds  the 
community  of  a  lawful  citizen,  and  bequeathes  to  it  a  nuisance. 

CHANCELLOR  KBNT. 


322  THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION 

For  augmenting  the  aggregate  amount  of  intelligence  and  mental 
power,  in  any  community,  the  grandest  instrumentality  ever  yet  devised 
is  the  institution  of  Common  Schools.  The  Common  School  realizes  all 
the  facts  or  fables,  whichever  they  may  be,  of  the  Divining  Rod.  It 
tries  its  experiments  over  the  whole  surface  of  society,  and  wherever  a 
buried  fountain  of  genius  is  flowing  in  the  darkness  below,  it  brings  it 
above,  and  pours  out  its  waters  to  fertilize  the  earth.  Among  mankind, 
hitherto,  hardly  one  person  in  a  million  has  had  any  chance  for  the  de 
velopment  of  his  higher  faculties.  Hence,  whatever  poets,  orators,  phi 
losopher?,  divines,  inventors  or  philanthropists,  may  have  risen  up  to 
bless  the  world,  they  have  all  risen  from  not  more  than  one  millionth  part 
of  the  race.  The  minds  of  the  rest,  though  equally  endowed  with  talent, 
genius  and  benevolence,  have  lain  outside  the  scope  of  availibility  for 
good.  These  millions,  with  the  exception  of  the  units,  have  been  drudges, 
slaves,  cattle  ;  their  bodies  used,  their  souls  unrecognized.  Ah,  nowhere 
else  have  there  been  such  waste  and  loss  of  treasure,  as  in  the  waste  and 
loss  of  the  Human  Faculties.  All  spendthrift  profusions,  all  royal  prodi 
galities,  are  parsimony  and  niggardliness,  compared  with  the  ungathered, 
abandoned  treasures  of  the  human  soul.  As  civilization  has  advanced, 
perhaps  one  child  in  a  hundred  thousand,  and,  in  more  favored  nations, 
one  child  in  ten  thousand,  has  been  admitted  to  the  opportunities  of 
knowledge.  Forthwith,  the  men  capable  of  constructing  the  institutions 
or  the  engines  of  human  improvement  and  adornment  appeared  ;  and  in 
numbers,  too,  far  beyond  the  proportionate  share  of  the  constituencies 
from  which  they  sprang.  But  if,  instead  of  striking  the  fetters  of  prohi 
bition  from  one  in  a  hundred  thousand,  or  from  one  in  ten  thousand, 
those  fetters  are  stricken  from  all,  and  incitements  to  exertion  and  aids 
to  self-development  are  supplied  to  all ;  then,  immediate!}',  quick  as  water 
gushes  from  unsealed  fountains,  Shermans  rise  up  from  the  shoemaker's 
bench,  Bcechers  come  from  the  blacksmith's  anvil,  and  Bowditches  and 
Franklins  from  the  ship-chandler's  and  the  tallow  chandler's  shop,  and  a 
new  galaxy  shines  forth  over  all  the  firmament  of  genius.  These  are 
truths  which  the  uneducated  nations  do  not  understand  ; — truths  too, 
which  the  caste-men,  whether  of  birth  or  of  wealth,  do  not  wish  to 
understand.  HORACE  MANN.  Inaugural  at  Antioch  College. 

The  theory  of  our  government  is, — not  that  all  men,  however  unfit, 
shall  be  voters, — but  that  every  man,  by  the  power  of  reason  and  the 
sense  of  duty,  shall  become  fit  to  be  a  voter.  Education  must  bring  the 
practice  as  near  as  possible  to  the  theory.  As  the  children  now  are,  so 
will  the  sovereigns  soon  be.  How  can  we  expect  the  fabric  of  the  gov 
ernment  to  stand,  if  vicious  materials  are  daily  wrought  into  its  frame 
work  V  Education  must  prepare  our  citizens  to  become  municipal  offi 
cers,  intelligent  jurors,  honest  witnesses,  legislators,  or  competent  judges 
of  legislation, — in  fine,  to  fill  all  the  manifold  relations  of  life.  For  this 
end,  it  must  be  universal.  The  whole  land  must  be  watered  with  the 
streams  of  knowledge.  HORACE  MANN. 


THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 


WHAT  constitutional  right  has  the  government  to  impose  the  burthen 
of  taxation  on  individual  property,  or  to  employ  the  public  funds,  how 
ever  obtained,  for  the  furtherance  of  any  such  object  as  that  of  popular 
instruction  ?  Is  not  education  a  personal  advantage,  accruing  to  the  in 
dividual  instructed,  as  much  as  the  possession  of  property,  or  any  other 
good — and  by  what  right  does  the  government  undertake  to  bestow  per 
sonal  benefits  at  all,  much  more  to  compel  one  class  of  men,  because 
they  are  men  of  substance,  to  bear  the  expense  of  benefits  gratuitously 
bestowed  on  another  class  ? 

In  the  first  place,  the  power  over  education  is  one  of  the  powers  of 
public  police,  belonging  essentially  to  government.  It  is  one  of  those 
powers,  the  exercise  of  which,  is  indispensable  to  the  preservation  of  so- 
iiety — to  its  integrity,  and  its  healthy  action.  It  rests  on  the  same 
foundation  as  that  which  is  employed  in  defining  and  taking  cognizance 
of  crime,  in  erecting  courts,  both  of  civil  and  of  criminal  jurisdiction,  in 
establishing  jails  and  penitentiaries,  and  in  compelling  the  performance 
of  contracts,  and  the  reparation  of  injuries.  In  this  point  of  view,  it  is 
one  among  a  number  of  means  to  the  same  end,  either  of  which,  or  all 
of  which,  may  be  freely  used,  according  to  the  wisdom  and  discretion  of 
the  public  authorities.  All  are  lawful,  and  equally  lawful  and  constitu 
tional  modes  of  action.  In  the  present  case,  however,  the  choice  is  not  a 
question  of  expediency  or  economy  only — though  certainly  important  in 
the  latter  point  of  view ;  but  it  becomes  a  question  of  humanity  also. 
For  while  it  will  always  be  necessary  to  provide  for  the  punishment 
of  offences  against  society,  when  committed,  and  for  the  compulsory  ob 
servance  of  personal  obligations,  and  redress  of  personal  grievances,  yet 
it  is  vastly  preferable,  undoubtedly,  that,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible, 
there  should  be  no  grievances  to  be  redressed,  no  broken  promises,  and 
no  committed  crimes.  It  is  the  aim,  and  the  undoubted  tendency 
of  education,  properly  understood  and  conducted,  to  accomplish  this  ob 
ject — an  object  of  incalulable  benefit  to  human  society.  As  a  measure, 
designed  to  operate  only  as  a  law  of  police,  the  public  support  of  educa 
tion  goes  behind  all  crime,  and  all  injurious  and  disturbing  action  in 
society,  and  seeks  to  occupy  the  intellect  and  the  affections  of  men,  and 
simply  by  informing  the  mind  and  molding  the  temper,  by  demonstra 
ting  that  it  is  the  interest  and  the  happiness  of  each  to  be  just  and  gen 
erous  towards  all,  by  letting  a  little  light  in  on  the  understanding,  and 
touching  the  heart,  either  to  take  from  them  the  disposition  to  offend  one 


y-24  THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

another,  or  to  injure  society,  or  to  arm  them  with  strength  of  purpose  to 
resist  every  temptation  to  do  so. 

But  there  is  another  and  broader  ground,  still,  on  which  to  rest  the 
power  and  duty  of  the  state,  in  regard  to  education.  That  which  we 
have  already  noticed,  is  enough  for  the  authority,  if  the  state  choose  to 
exercise  it,  and  in  the  opinion  of  your  committee,  enough  for  the  duty 
also.  But  the  consideration  which  we  now  approach,  is  not  only  suffi 
cient  for  the  abundant  justification  of  authoritative  action — it  demands 
action,  and  the  state  could  not  justify  itself  to  the  people  without  it. 

The  people  of  this  state,  having  united  themselves  together  in  a  civil 
society,  have  agreed  to  secure  to  themselves,  or  to  attempt  to  secure  to 
themselves,  the  highest  advantages  of  the  social  compact,  through  the 
agency  of  certain  forms  of  government  and  administration.  We  have 
adopted  the  representative  system  ;  and  we  start  from  the  position,  that 
the  whole  political  power  of  the  country,  much  of  it  for  immediate  exer 
cise,  and  all  of  it  by  ultimate  reference,  is  in  the  hands  of  the  people. 
And,  on  this  grand  position,  as  a  basis,  do  all  our  constitutional  forms 
absolutely  rest.  But  just  as  children  are  unfit  to  govern  themselves,  so 
are  uneducated  men,  being  still  children,  though  of  huge  growth,  unfit 
to  govern  themselves.  In  one  mode  or  another,  associations  of  such  men 
always  have  had,  and  always  will  have,  protectors  and  masters;  and  we 
hardly  need  add,  that  a  people  with  masters  of  any  sort,  as  the  basis  of  a 
free  representative  system,  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  It  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  popular  cultivation,  as  diffusive  and  general  as  the  num 
bers  composing  the  republic,  is  indispensable  to  the  preservation  of  our 
republican  forms — and  hence  arises  the  great  constitutional  duty  of  the 
government.  It  is  the  duty  of  self-preservation,  according  to  its  actual 
mode  of  existence,  for  the  sake  of  the  common  good.  The  highest  good 
of  the  whole,  as  a  body,  is  the  object  in  view  ;  that  good  is  to  be  attained 
only,  according  to  the  very  terms  of  the  original  compact,  through  our 
adopted  forms  ;  and  the  duty  of  preserving  and  maintaining  those  forms, 
in  their  vigor  and  purity,  becomes,  at  once,  the  very  highest  duty  and 
obligation  of  those  who  are  intrusted  with  the  administration.  It  is  a 
duty,  every  instant,  and  perpetually,  in  force.  No  change  of  administra 
tion  can  affect  it :  and  the  moment  it  is  denied  or  neglected,  that  moment 
is  the  cause  of  the  republic  repudiated  and  betrayed. 

It  is  easy,  we  think,  to  know  when  this  duty  of  maintaining  our  con 
stitutional  forms,  by  the  care  which  is  taken  of  the  structure  on  which 
they  rest,  is  in  the  way  of  being  faithfully  performed.  The  duty  is  not 
well  provided  for,  unless  some  rational  plan  of  public  instruction  shall 
have  been  devised  and  adopted,  the  object  and  the  probable  effect  of 
which  shall  be,  to  lead  to  the  cultivation  of  every  child  in  the  commun 
ity,  at  least  so  far  as  to  fit  them  all,  without  exception  to  the  extent  of 
their  capabilities,  for  an  intelligent  discharge  of  the  common  and  ordinary 
duties  and  responsibilities  of  social  and  political  life,  to  which  all,  or 
nearly  all,  are  called  by  the  very  conditions  of  our  social  and  political 
forms.  The  future  mother  must  be  educated  in  every  female  child — a 


AMERICAN  AUTHORITIES.  325 

matter  not  to  be  neglected  if  we  would  have  men  in  the  republic ;  and  in 
every  male  child,  must  be  educated  the  future  elector,  juror,  and  local 
administrator. 

The  duty  of  being  educated  is,  undoubtedly,  one  of  positive  obliga 
tion,  resting  on  every  citizen,  as  part  of  the  original  compact  between 
every  citizen  and  the  whole  body  of  citizens ;  and  as  far  as  instruction  is 
attainable  in  youth,  the  obligation  rests  on  parents  and  guardians.  It  is 
a  duty  which  by  no  means  concerns  the  individual  only ;  it  is  one  in 
which  every  other  individual  and  the  whole  community  have  a  deep 
interest  The  verdict  of  jurors,  and  the  decision  of  a  contested  election, 
perhaps  by  the  casting  vote  of  a  single  person,  are  matters  of  vast  concern 
ment  to  others,  besides  those  who  render  the  verdict,  or  turn  the  election. 

But  while  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  this  personal  duty,  and  the 
claims  which  the  community  has  on  every  member  in  regard  to  it,  it  is 
clearly  one  which  could  not,  especially  with  us,  be  enforced  by  any 
direct  and  arbitrary  exercise  of  power.  Happih',  we  think,  nothing  of 
this  sort  is  necessary,  any  more  than  it  would  be  desirable. 

There  are  evidently  two  difficulties  in  the  case  to  contend  with.  One 
of  them  is,  that  so  long  as  men  differ  in  endowment  and  in  the  allot 
ments  of  Providence,  and  so  long  as  the  rights  of  propert}''  shall  be  re 
spected,  there  will  always  be  a  considerable  portion  of  the  community 
unable,  for  want  of  the  necessary  means,  to  sustain  the  expenses  of  edu 
cation.  Whenever  this  is  the  case,  we  hold  it  to  be  the  duty  of  the  state  to 
supply  the  necessary  means ;  and  on  this  principle  the  state  has  long  acted. 

The  other  difficulty  in  the  case  is  the  more  serious  one  of  the  two.  It 
is,  that  perhaps  a  large  majority  of  those  who  have  the  means  of  meeting 
the  necessary  outlays  for  the  proper  education  of  their  children,  are  not 
disposed  to  use  them  for  any  such  purpose.  The  burthen  in  many  cases 
is  undoubtedly  a  heavy  one,  and  it  is  difficult  to  convince  parents  of  the 
unquestionable  truth,  that  they  can  make  no  provision  for  their  offspring 
by  pecuniary  aids,  which  can  in  any  degree  compensate  for  the  want  of 
adequate  mental  and  moral  cultivation. 

This  is  a  difficulty  to  be  met  by  the  state,  with  measures  of  a  delicate 
character  -measures  calculated  to  induce  and  to  persuade — measures 
aiming  to  bring  in  public  opinion  to  its  aid,  and  appealing  at  once  to  the 
good  sense,  the  pride,  and  the  interest  of  the  parties  concerned.  What 
ever  compulsory  action  is  resorted  to,  must  be  of  a  gentle  and  paternal 
character,  and  be  surrounded  and  accompanied  with  every  circumstance 
of  kindness,  and  with  whatever  is  best  adapted  to  move  and  to  interest. 
Such,  in  a  great  measure,  has  been  and  is  the  nature  of  the  system  of 
public  instruction  long  in  operation  in  this  state,  so  far  as  designed  to 
meet  the  difficulty  here  suggested  ;  and  your  committee  propose  some 
important  measures,  regarded  by  them  as  worthy  of  great  consideration, 
not  certainly  to  change  materially  the  features  of  the  system  in  this  re 
spect,  but  to  modify  them,  and  if  possible  to  give  them  efficiency. 

There  is  one  other  test  to  which  your  committee  would  refer,  as  one  by 
which  we  may  know  whether  the  state  has  performed,  or  is  performing, 


320  T»E  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

its  great  constitutional  duty  of  self-preservation  for  the  common  good,  by 
taking  due  care  of  the  subject  of  popular  instruction.  That  test  is, 
whether  or  not  the  system  be  such  as  makes  education  a  thing  of  practi 
cable  and  probable  attainment  by  the  class  of  the  comparatively  indigent 
For  if  it  be  otherwise,  there  can  be  no  security  for  the  continuance  of  our 
constitutional  forms.  „  In  this  age  of  the  world,  the  rich  in  any  civilized 
community  will  be  educated ;  and  if  the  poor  can  not  be,  and  are  not, 
the  necessary  consequence  is,  that  a  separation  takes  place  Knowledge 
is  power,  and  it  will  be  exercised  ;  and  a  selfish  aristocracy,  formed  of 
those  who  are  at  the  same  time  rich  and  educated,  will  bear  the  class 
of  the  indigent  an  1  ignorant  to  the  wall.  The  community  being  once  di 
vided  into  these  two  great  classes,  it  matters  little,  to  the  present  argu 
ment  at  least,  whether  the  powerful  bear  sway  wisely  and  well,  or 
oppressively :  in  either  case  the  balance  is  destroyed  which  makes  our 
government  what  it  is ;  our  constitutional  forms  are  not  preserved  :  and 
so  much  of  common  good  as  depended  upon  them,  much  or  little,  is 
sacrificed. 

Nor  is  it  enough,  in  our  judgment,  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  test 
now  referred  to,  that  our  common  schools  are  made  accessible  to  all 
classes,  the  poorest  as  well  as  the  better  conditioned.  If  the  system 
stopped  here,  it  would  aid  in  creating  the  very  distinction  and  separation 
which  ought  to  be  avoided.  In  the  first  place  the  condition  of  the  com 
mon  schools  themselves  must  be  elevated ;  and  if  it  is  not,  the  conse 
quence  will  soon  be,  that  they  will  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  seminaries 
of  the  poor,  when  the  rich  will  desert  them  ;  yielding  them  neither  coun 
tenance  nor  support  any  further  than  forced  to  do  so,  or  contributing  to 
sustain  them,  like  other  institutions  for  the 'poor,  as  public  charities. 
The  condition  of  these  schools  then  must  be  elevated.  They  must  be 
common  places  of  resort  for  all  classes  as  far  as  possible,  where  the  youth 
of  the  same  neighborhood,  however  otherwise  separated,  may  meet,  as 
youth  now  meet  in  our  academies  and  colleges,  to  sacrifice  all  distinctions 
except  such  as  grow  out  of  various  success  in  the  prosecution  of  the 
same  studies. 

But  this  is  not  all ;  the  way  to  the  higher  schools — to  the  academies  and 
colleges — must  be  open,  at  least  to  the  young  man  of  genius  and  enterprise 
among  the  classes  of  the  indigent,  as  well  as  to  his  more  wealthy  rival. 

There  is  one  way,  and  only  one  in  which  this  can  be  done;  and  that 
is,  by  such  liberal  endowment  of  the  better  schools,  by  private  munifi 
cence  and  state  patronage,  as  will  bring  down  the  wages  of  instruction  to 
the  person  taught,  to  a  moderate  sum.  When  this  is  accomplished,  the 
balance  between  the  wealthy  and  poorer  classes  will  be  easily  struck  ; 
for  though  their  relative  numbers  will  still  be  unequal  in  these  schools, 
the  sum  of  knowledge  and  intellectual  power  among  the  sturdy  and  am 
bitious  sons  of  poverty,  will  be,  out  and  out,  equal  to  that  acquired  and 
displayed  by  the  more  numerous  class  of  those  among  whom  must  always 
be  many  whom  indulgence  and  luxury  have  enervated. 

D.  D.  BARNARD.     Report  as  Chairman  of  Leg.  Committee,  1838. 


AMERICAN  AUTHORITIES.  327 

In  this  particular,  New  England  may  be  allowed  to  claim,  I  think,  a 
merit  of  a  peculiar  character.  She  early  adopted  and  has  constantly 
maintained  the  principle,  that  it  is  the  undoubted  right,  and  the  bounden 
duty  of  government,  to  provide  for  the  instruction  of  all  youth.  That 
which  is  elsewhere  left  to  chance,  or  to  charity,  we  secure  by  law.  For 
the  purpose  of  public  instruction,  we  hold  every  man  subject  to  taxation 
in  proportion  to  his  property,  and  we  look  not  to  the  question,  whether 
he  himself  have,  or  have  not,  children  to  be  benefited  by  the  education 
for  which  he  pays.  We  regard  it  as  a  wise  and  liberal  system  of  police, 
by  which  property,  and  life,  and  the  peace  of  society  are  secured.  We 
seek  to  prevent,  in  some  measure,  the  extension  of  the  penal  code,  by 
inspiring  a  salutary  and  conservative  principle  of  virtue  and  of  knowledge 
in  an  early  age.  We  hope  to  excite  a  feeling  of  respectability,  and  a 
sense  of  character,  by  enlarging  the  capacity,  and  increasing  the  sphere 
of  intellectual  enjoyment.  By  general  instruction,  we  seek,  as  far  as  pos 
sible,  to  purify  the  whole  moral  atmosphere  ;  to  keep  good  sentiments 
uppermost,  and  to  turn  the  strong  current  of  feeling  and  opinion,  as  well 
as  the  censures  of  the  law,  and  the  denunciations  of  religion,  against  im 
morality  and  crime.  We  hope  for  a  security,  beyond  the  law,  and  above 
the  law,  in  the  prevalence  of  enlightened  and  well-principled  moral  senti 
ment.  We  hope  to  continue  and  prolong  the  time,  when,  in  the  villages 
and  farm-houses  of  New  England,  there  may  be  undisturbed  sleep  within 
unbarred  doors.  And  knowing  that  our  government  rests  directly  on 
the  public  will,  that  we  may  preserve  it,  we  endeavor  to  give  a  safe  and 
proper  direction  to  that  public  will.  We  do  not,  indeed,  expect  all  men 
to  be  philosophers  or  statesmen ;  but  we  confidently  trust,  and  our  ex 
pectation  of  the  duration  of  our  system  of  government  rests  on  that  trust, 
that  by  the  diffusion  of  general  knowledge  and  good  and  virtuous  senti 
ments,  the  political  fabric  may  be  secure,  as  well  against  open  violence 
and  overthrow,  as  against  the  slow  but  sure  undermining  of  licentious 
ness.  DANIEL  WEBSTEK.  Discourse  at  Plymouth,  1822. 

COLONY   OF   MASSACHUSETTS. 

It  being  one  chief  project  of  the  old  deluder,  Satan,  to  keep  men  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  as  in  former  times  by  keeping  them  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  so  iu  these  latter  times  by  persuading  from  the  use  of  tongues,  that  so  at 
least  the  true  sense  and  meaning  of  the  original  might  be  clouded  by  false  glosses 
of  saint-seeming  deceivers ;  that  learning  may  not  be  buried  in  the  grave  of  our 
fathers  in  the  church  and  commonwealth,  the' Lord  assisting  our  endeavors — 

It  is  therefore  ordered,  that  every  township  in  this  jurisdiction,  after  the  Lord 
hath  increased  them  to  the  number  of  fifty  householders,  shall  then  forthwith  ap 
point  one  within  their  town  to  teach  all  such  children  as  shall  resort  to  him,  to 
write  and  read ;  whose  wages  shall  be  paid,  either  by  the  parents  or  masters  of 
such  children,  or  by  the  inhabitants  in  general,  by  way  of  supply,  as  the  major 
part  of  those  that  order  the  prudentials  of  the  town  shall  appoint ;  provided, 
those  that  send  their  children  be  not  oppressed  by  paying  much  more  than  they 
can  have  them  taught  for  in  other  towns  ;  and  it  is  further  ordered,  that  when  any 
town  shall  increase  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  families  or  householders,  they 
shall  set  up  a  Grammar  School,  the  master  thereof  being  able  to  instruct  youth 
so  far  as.  they  may  be  fitted  for  the  University  ;  provided,  that  if  any  town  neg 
lect  the  performance  hereof  above  one  year,  that  every  such  town  shall  pay  £5  to 
the  next  school  till  they  shall  perform  "this  order. 

Order  of  General  Court,  1647. 


328  MASSACHUSETTS  DOCTRINE  OF  FRKE  SCHOOLS 

In  1647,  when  a  few  scattered  ami  feeble  settlements,  almost 
buried  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  were  all  that  constituted  the 
Colony  of  Massachusetts ;  when  the  entire  population  consisted  of 
twenty-ane  thousand  souls ;  when  the  external  means  of  the  people 
were  small,  their  dwellings  humble,  and  their  raiment  and  subsist 
ence  scanty  and  homely ;  when  the  whole  valuation  of  all  the  colo 
nial  estates,  both  public  and  private,  would  hardly  equal  the  inven 
tory  of  many  a  private  individual  at  the  present  day ;  when  the 
fierce  eye  of  the  savage  was  nightly  seen  glaring  from  the  edge  of 
the  surrounding  wilderness,  and  no  defense  or  succor  was  at  hand; 
it  was  then,  amid  all  these  privations  and  dangers,  that  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  conceived  the  magnificent  idea  of  a  Free*  and  Universal 
Education  for  the  People ;  and,  amid  all  their  poverty,  they  stinted 
themselves  to  a  still  scantier  pittance ;  amid  all  their,  toils  they  im 
posed  upon  themselves  still  more  burdensome  labors;  amid  all 
their  perils  they  braved  still  greater  dangers,  that  they  might  find 
the  time  and  the  means  to  reduce  their  grand  conception  to  prac 
tice.  Two  divine  ideas  filled  their  great  hearts — -their  duty  to  God 
and  to  posterity.  For  the  one  they  built  the  church ;  for  the  other 
they  opened  the  school.  Religion  and  Knowledge! — two  attri 
butes  of  the  same  glorious  and  eternal  truth — and  that  truth  the 
only  one  on  which  immortal  or  mortal  happiness  can  be  securely 
founded. 

As  an  innovation  upon  all  preexisting  policy  and  usages,  the  es 
tablishment  of  Free  Schools  was  the  boldest  ever  promulgated  since 
the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era.  As  a  theory,  it  could 
have  been  refuted  and  silenced  by  a  more  formidable  array  of  argu 
ment  and  experience  than  was  ever  marshaled  against  any  other 
opinion  of  human  origin.  But  time  has  ratified  its  soundness. 
Two  centuries  now  proclaim  it  to  be  as  wise  as  it  was  courageous, 
as  beneficent  as  it  was  disinterested.  It  was  one  of  those  grand 
mental  and  moral  experiments  whose  effects  can  not  be  determined 
in  a  single  generation.  But  now,  according  to  the  manner  in 
which  human  life  is  computed,  we  are  the  sixth  generation  from  its 
founders,  and  have  we  not  reason  to  be  grateful  both  to  God  and 
man  for  its  unnumbered  blessings?  The  sincerity  of  our  gratitude 
must  be  tested  by  our  efforts  to  perpetuate  and  improve  what  they 
established.  The  gratitude  of  the  lips  only  is  an  unholy  offering. 

HORACE  MANN.  Tenth  Report  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Massachu 
setts  Board  of  Education. 

*  Wni  the  Public  School  of  Mn»*nrhuittrs  nt  fir»t/r«  ?  Wai  Massachusetts  the  first  to  e»taa> 
lith  turh  a  »yitem  ni  is  ordained  in  I  lie  law  of  10-47  1—  Kd.  of  Jimer.  Jour,  of  Education. 


MASSACHUSETTS  DOCTRINE  OF  FREE  SCHOOLS.         329 

The  three  following  propositions  describe  the  broad  and  ever- 
dnring  foundation  on  which  the  Common  School  system  of  Massa 
chusetts  reposes : 

The  successive  generations  of  men,  taken  collectively,  constitute 
one  great  Commonwealth. 

The  property  of  this  Commonwealth  is  pledged  for  the  education 
of  all  its  youth  up  to  such  a  point  as  will  save  them  from  poverty 
and  vice,  and  prepare  them  for  the  adequate  performance  of  their 
social  and  civil  duties. 

The  successive  holders  of  this  property  are  trustees,  bound  to  the 
faithful  execution  of  their  trust  by  the  most  sacred  obligations;  be 
cause  embezzlement  and  pillage  from  children  and  descendants  are 
as  criminal  as  the  same  offenses  when  perpetrated  against  contem 
poraries. 

Recognizing  these  eternal  principles  of  natural  ethics,  the  Consti 
tution  of  Massachusetts — the  fundamental  law  of  the  State — after 
declaring,  (among  other  things,)  in  the  preamble  to  the  first  section 
of  the  fifth  chapter,  that  "  the  encouragement  of  arts  and  sciences 
and  all  good  literature  tends  to  the  honor  of  GOD,  the  advantage  of 
the  Christian  religion,  and  the  great  benefit  of  this  and  the  other 
United  States  of  America,"  proceeds,  in  the  second  section  of  the 
same  chapter,  to  set  forth  the  duties  of  all  future  Legislators  and 
Magistrates,  in  the  following  noble  and  impressive  language : — 

"  Wisdom  and  knowledge,  as  well  as  virtue,  diffused  generally 
among  the  body  of  the  people,  being  necessary  for  the  preservation 
of  their  rights  and  liberties;  and  as  these  depend  on  spreading  the 
opportunities  and  advantages  of  education  in  the  various  parts  of 
the  country,  and  among  the  different  orders  of  the  people,  it  shall 
be  the  duty  of  legislators  and  magistrates,  in  all  future  periods  of 
this  Commonwealth,  to  cherish  the  interests  of  literature  and  the 
sciences,  and  all  seminaries  of  them ;  especially  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  public  schools,  and  grammar  schools  in  the  towns ;  to 
encourage  private  societies  and  public  institutions,  rewards  and  im 
munities,  for  the  promotion  of  agriculture,  arts,  sciences,  commerce, 
trades,  manufactures,  and  a  natural  history  of  the  country ;  to 
countenance  and  inculcate  the  principles  of  humanity  and  general 
benevolence,  public  and  private  charity,  industry  and  frugality, 
honesty  and  punctuality  in  their  dealings ;  sincerity,  good  humor, 
and  all  social  affections  and  generous  sentiments  among  the  people.'* 

HORACE  MANX.  Tenth  Report  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Massachu 
setts  Board  of  Education. 


330  TI1E  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

The  outline  and  most  of  the  essential  features  of  the  present  system 
of  common,  or  public  schools  in  Connecticut,  will  be  found  in  the  prac 
tice  of  the  first  settlers  of  the  several  towns  which  composed  the  two 
original  colonies  of  Connecticut  and  New  Haven,  before  any  express 
provision  was  made  by  general  law  for  the  regulation  and  support  of 
schools  or  the  bringing  up  of  children.  The  first  law  on  the  subject  did 
but  little  more  than  declare  the  motive,  and  make  obligatory  the  practice 
which  had  grown  up  out  of  the  character  of  the  founders  of  these 
colonies,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed.  They  did 
not  come  here  as  isolated  individuals,  drawn  together  from  widely  sep 
arated  homes,  entertaining  broad  differences  of  opinion  on  all  matters 
of  civil  and  religious  concernment,  and  kept  together  by  the  necessity 
of  self-defense  in  the  eager  prosecution  of  some  temporary  but  profita 
ble  adventure.  They  carne  after  God  had  set  them  in  families,  and  they 
brought  with  them  the  best  pledges  of  good  behavior,  in  the  relations 
which  father  and  mother,  husband  and  wife,  parents  and  children, 
neighbors  and  friends,  establish.  They  came,  with  a  foregone  conclusion 
of  permanence,  and  with  all  the  elements  of  the  social  state  combined  in 
vigorous  activity — u'very  man,  expecting  to  find  or  make  occupation  in 
the  way  in  which  he  had  been  trained.  They  came  with  earnest  re 
ligious  convic  tions,  made  more  earnest  by  the  trials  of  persecution  ;  and 
the  enjoyment  of  these  convictions  was  a  leading  motive  in  their  emi 
gration  hither.  The  fundamental  articles  of  their  religious  creed,  that 
the  Bible  was  the  only  authoritative  expression  of  the  divine  will,  and 
that  every  man  was  able  to  judge  for  himself  in  its  interpretation,  made 
schools  necessary  to  bring  all  persons  4  to  a  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,' 
and  an  understanding  '  of  the  main  grounds  and  principles  of  the 
Christian  religion  necessary  to  salvation.'  The  constitution  of  civil  gov 
ernment,  which  they  adopted  from  the  outset,  which  declared  all  civil 
officers  elective,  and  gave  to  every  inhabitant  who  would  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  the  right  to  vote  and  to  be  voted  for,  and  which  practically 
converted  political  society  into  a  partnership,  in  which  each  member  had 
the  right  to  bind  the  whole  firm,  made  universal  education  identical  with 
self-preservation.  But  aside  from  these  considerations,  the  natural  and 
acknowledged  leaders  in  this  enterprise — the  men  who,  by  their  religious 
character,  wealth,  social  position,  and  previous  experience  in  conducting 
large  business  operations,  commanded  public  confidence  in  church  and 
commonwealth,  were  educated  men — as  highly  and  thoroughly  educated 
as  the  best  endowed  grammar  schools  in  England  could  educate  them  at 
that  period,  and  not  a  few  of  them  had  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  her 
great  universities.  These  men  would  naturally  seek  for  their  own 
children  the  best  opportunities  of  education  which  could  be  provided ; 
and  it  is  the  crowning  glory  of  these  men,  that,  instead  of  sending  their 
own  children  back  to  England  to  be  educated  in  grammar  schools  and 
universities,  they  labored  to  establish  free  grammar  schools  and  a  college, 
here  amid  the  stumps  of  the  primeval  forests;  that,  instead  of  setting 


AMERICAN  AUTHORITIES. 


331 


up  'family  schools'  and  'select  schools'  for  the  ministers' sons  and  the 
magistrates'  sons,  the  ministers  and  magistrates  were  found, — not  only 
in  town  meeting,  pleading  for  an  allowance  out  of  the  common  treasury 
for  the  support  of  a  public  or  common  school,  and  in  some  instances  for 
a  'free  (endowed  grammar)  school,' — but  among  the  families,  entreating 
parents  of  all  classes  to  send  their  children  to  the  same  school  with  their 
own.  All  this  was  done  in  advance  of  any  colonial  legislation,  and  was 
begun  in  anticipation  of  any  formal  town  action. 

The  first  permanent  settlement  of  Hartford  was  made  by  the  religious 
friends  and  congregation  of  Rev.  Thomas  Hooker,  in  1G3G,  and  in  1037 
John  Iligginscn,  before  he  became  chaplain  of  the  fort  at  Saybrook,  w.as 
a  resident  and  'schoolmaster'  at  Hartford  ;  and  Winthrop  mentions  'one 
Mr.  Collins,  a  young  scholar  who  came  from  Barbadocs,  and  had  been  a 
preacher,  who  was  established  at  Hartford  to  teach  a  school  in  1640.' 
These  masters  taught  before  the  first  formal  vote  of  the  town,  so  far  as 
the  records  now  show,  in  April,  1643 — and  the  engagement  with  Mr. 
Andrews  was  not  to  set  up  a  school,  but  '  to  teach  the  children  in  the 
school,'  as  an  institution  already  in  existence.  This  first  public  school 
was  maintained,  as  all  the  early  common  schools  of  Connecticut  were,  by 
the  joint  contributions  of  parents  and  the  town — which  secured  parental 
and  public  interest  in  the  management,  and  did  accomplish,  what  no 
other  mode  of  supporting  public  schools  has  yet  effected  elsewhere,  the 
universal  elementary  instruction  of  the  people. 

The  first  settlement  in  the  colony  of  New  Haven  was  made  at  Quinni- 
piac  (New  Haven)  in  1638  ;  and  within  a  year  '  Thomas  Fugill  is  required 
by  the  court  to  keep  Charles  Higinson,  an  indented  apprentice,  at 
school  one  year,  or  else  advantage  him  as  much  in  his  education  as  a 
year's  learning  comes  to.'  This  transaction  proclaims  at  once  the  exist 
ence  of  a  school  in  the  first  year  of  this  infant  commonwealth,  and  the 
protection  which  the  first  settlers  extended  to  those  who  could  not  help 
themselves,  and  their  desire  to  make. elementary  education  universal.  In 
1641  it  is  ordered  by  the  General  Court  '  that  a  free  school  be  set  up  in 
this  town,  and  our  pastor,  Mr.  Davenport,  together  with  the  magistrates 
shall  consider  what  yearly  allowance  is  meet  to  be  given  to  it  out  of  the 
common  stock  of  the  town,  and  also  what  rules  and  orders  are  meet  to 
be  observed  in  and  about  the  same.'  Over  this  school  presided  master 
Ezekiel  Chcever,  one  of  the  principal  men  of  the  colony,  and  who  subse 
quently  taught  the  'Free  School  at  Ipswich,' and  still  later  the  Town 
Free  School  at Charlestown,  closing  his  career  at  Boston, as  'sole  master' 
of  the  still  famous  Latin  school.  To  this  school,  or  its  successor,  was 
assigned  in  1667,  a  portion  of  the  legacy  left  by  Edward  Hopkins,  that 
excellent  magistrate  and  beneficent  citizen,  '  to  give  some  encouragement 
for  the  breeding  up  of  hopeful  youth  for  the  public  service  of  the 
country  in  future  times.' 

The  strength  of  the  school  system  of  Connecticut  lies  in  the  habits  of 
her  people  of  always  looking  after  the  education  of  their  children. 

HENRY  BARNARD,  History  of  Common  Schools  in  Connecticut. 


THE  SPATE  AND  EDUCATION 


COLONY    OF   CONNECTICUT. 


Forasmuch  as  the  good  education  of  children  is  of  singular  behoof  and  benefit 
to  any  commonwealth ;  and  whereas  many  parents  and  masters  arc  too  indulgent 
and  negligent  of  their  duty  in  that  kind — 

It  i*  thertfore  ordered  by  this  court  and  the  authority  thereof,  That  the  select 
men  of  every  town  in  the  several  precincts  and  quarters  where  they  dwell,  shall 
have  a  vigilant  eye  over  their  brethren  and  neighbors,  to  see,  first,  that  none  of 
them  shall  sulfer  so  much  barbarism  in  any  of  their  families,  as  not  to  endeavor 
to  teach  by  themselves  or  others,  their  child'renand  apprentices  so  much  learning, 
as  may  enable  them  perfectly  to  road  the  English  tongue,  and  knowledge  of  the 
capital  laws,  upon  penalty  of  twenty  shillings  for  each  neglect  therein  ;  also,  that 
all  masters  of  families,  do,  once  a  week  at  least,  catechise  their  children  and  ser 
vants,  in  the  grounds  and  principles  of  religion,  and  if  any  be  unable  to  do  so 
much,  that  then,  at  the  least,  they  procure  such  children  or  apprentices  to  learn 
some  short  orthodox  catechism,  without  book,  that  thev  may  be  able  to  answer  to 
the  questions  that  shall  be  propounded  to  them  out  otv  such  catechisms  by  their 
parents  or  masters,  or  any  of  the  selectmen,  when  they  shall  call  them  to*  a  trial 
of  what  they  have  learned  in  this  kind;  and  further,  that  all  parents  and  masters 
do  breed  and  bring  up  their  children  and  apprentices  in  some  honest  lawful  call 
ing,  labor  or  employment,  either  in  husbandry  or  some  other  trade  profitable  for 
themselves  and  the  commonwealth,  if  they  will  not  nor  can  not  train  them  up  in 
learningj  to  fit  them  for  higher  employments  ;  and  if  any  of  the  selectmen,  after 
admonition  by  them  given  to  such  ma'sters  of  families,  shall  find  them  still  negli 
gent  of  their  duty,  in  the  particulars  aforementioned,  whereby  children  and  ser 
vants  become  rude,  stubborn  and  unruly,  the  said  selectmen,  with  the  help  of  two 
magistrates,  shall  take  such  children  or  apprentices  from  them,  and  place  them 
with  some  masters — bovs  till  they  come  to  twenty-one,  and  girls  to  eighteen  years 
of  age  complete— which  will  mo're  strictly  look  unto  and  force  them  to  submit 
unto  government,  according  to  the  rules  of  this  order,  if  by  fair  means  and  former 
instructions  they  will  not  be  drawn  unto  it.  Code  of  1650. 

COLONY   OF   NEW   HAVEN. 

Whereas,  too  many  parents  and  masters,  cither  through  an  over  tender  respect 
to  their  own  occasions  and  business,  or  not  duly  considering  the  good  of  their 
children  and  apprentices,  have  too  much  neglected  duty  in  their  education  while 
they  are  young  and  capable  of  learning — It  is  ordered  that  the  deputies  for  the 
particular  court  in  each  plantation  within  this  jurisdiction  for  the  time  being  ;  or 
•where  there  are  no  such  deputies,  the  constable,  or  other  officer  or  officers  in  pub 
lic  trust,  shall  from  time  to  time,  have  a  vigilant  eye  over  their  brethren  and 
neighbors  within  the  limits  of  the  said  plantation,  that  all  parents  and  masters, 
do  duly  endeavor,  either  by  their  own  ability  and  labor,  or  by  improving  such 
schoolmaster,  or  other  helps  and  means  as  the  plantation  doth  afford,  or  the  fam 
ily  may  conveniently  provide,  that  all  their  children  and  apprentices,  as  they 
§row  capable,  niav  through  God's  blessing  attain  at  least  so  much  as  to  be  able 
uly  to  read  the  Scriptures  and  other  good  and  profitable  printed  books  in  the 
English  tongue,  being  their  native  language,  and  in  some  competent  measure  to 
understand  the  main  grounds  and  principles  of  Christian  religion  necessary  to  sal 
vation.  And  to  give  a  due  answer  to  such  plain  and  ordinary  questions  as  may 
by  the  said  deputies,  officer  or  officers  be  propounded  concerning  the  same.  And 
•when  such  deputies,  or  officers,  whether  by  information  or  examination  shall  find 
any  parent  or  master  one  or  more  negligent,  he  or  they  shall  first  give  warning, 
and  if  thereupon  due  reformation  follow,  if  the  said*  parents  or  masters  shall 
thenceforth  seriously  nnd  constantly  apply  themselves  to  their  duty  in  manner 
before  expressed,  the  former  neglect  may  be  passed  bv ;  but  if  not,  then  the  said 
deputies  and  other  officer  or  officers,  shall  three  months  after  such  warning,  pre 
sent  each  such  negligent  person  or  persons  to  the  next  plantation  court,  where 
every  such  delinquent,  upon  proof,  shall  be  fined  ten  shilling  t"  the  plantation, 
to  be  levied  a*  other  fines.  And  if  in  any  plantation  there  IK-  n<>  such  court  kept 
for  the  present,  in  such  case  the  constable,  Of  Other  O»!XIT  or  officers  warning  such 
pt-rson  or  persons,  before  the  freemen  or  so  many  of  them  as  upon  notice  shall 
meet  together  and  proving  the  ne^l^ct  after  warning,  shall  have  power  to  levy 
th«- tiiu- as  at'on -said.  But  if  in  tlnvc  months  after  that,  there  be  no  due  care 
takt-n  and  continued  for  the  education  of  such  children  or  apprentices  as  afore 
said,  the  delinquent  (without  anv  further  private  warning,)  shall  be  proceeded 
against  as  before,  but  the  fine  doomed.  And  lastly,  if  after  the  said  warning  and 
fines  paid  or  levied,  the  said  deputies,  officer  or  officers,  shall  still  find  a  contin 
uance  of  the  former  negligence,  if  it  be  not  obstinacy,  so  that  such  children  or 
servants  may  be  in  danger  to  grow  barbarous,  rude,  and  stubborn,  through  igno 
rance,  they  shall  give  due  and  seasonable  notice  that  every  »uch  parent  and  mas 
ter  be  summoned  to  the  next  court  of  magistrate*,  who  are  to  proceed  as  they  find 


AMERICAN  AUTHORITIES. 

cause,  either  to  a  greater  fine,  taking  security  for  due  conformity  to  the  scope  and 
intent  of  this  law,  or  may  take  such  children  or  apprentices  from  such  parents  or 
masters,  and  place  them  for  years,  boys  till  they  come  to  the  age  of  one  and 
twenty,  and  girls  till  they  come  to  the  age  of  eighteen  years,  with  such  others 
who  shall  better  educate  and  govern  them,  both  for  the  public  conveniency  and 
for  the  particular  good  of  the  said  children  or  apprentices. 

Colony  Law.    1655. 

COLOITY  OF  PLYMOUTH. 

Forasmuch  as  the  maintenance  of  good  literature  doth  much  tend  to  the  ad 
vancement  of  the  weal  and  flourishing  state  of  societies  and  republics,  this  court 
doth  therefore  order,  that  in  whatever  township  in  this  government,  consisting 
of  fifty  families  or  upwards,  any  meet  man  shall  be  obtained  to  teach  a  grammar 
school,  such  township  shall  allow  at  least  twelve  pounds,  to  be  raised  by  rate  on 
all  the  inhabitants.  Order  of  Legislature .  1669. 

In  the  early  history  of  almost  every  town  in  every  state  of  New  Eng 
land,  a  portion  of  the  public  land  was  reserved,  or  special  grants  were 
made  by  individuals  for  "gospel"  and  school  purposes. 

On  the  17th  of  May,  1784,  Mr.  Jefferson,  as  chairman  of  a  committee 
for  that  purpose,  introduced  into  the  old  Congress  an  ordinance  respect 
ing  the  disposition  of  the  public  lands,  but  this  contained  no  reference  to 
schools  or  education.  On  the  4rth  of  March,  1785,  another  ordinance  was 
introduced — by  whom  does  not  appear  on  the  Journal,  and  on  the  16th 
of  the  same  month  was  recommitted  to  a  committee  consisting  of  Pierce 
Long,  of  New  Hampshire,  Rufus  King,  of  Massachusetts,  David  Howell, 
of  Rhode  Island,  Wm.  S.  Johnson,  of  Connecticut,  R.  R.  Livingston,  of 
New  York,  Charles  Stewart,  of  Newr  Jersey,  Joseph  Gardner,  of  Penn 
sylvania,  John  Henry,  of  Maryland,  William  Grayson,  of  Virginia,  Hugh 
Williamson,  of  North  Carolina,  John  Bull,  of  South  Carolina,  and  Wil 
liam  Houston,  of  Georgia.  On  the  14th  of  April  following,  this  commit 
tee  reported  the  ordinance — by  whom  reported,  no  clue  is  given  ;  which 
after  being  perfected,  was  passed  the  20th  of  May  following,  and  became 
the  foundation  of  the  existing  land  system  of  the  United  States. 

By  one  of  its  provisions,  the  10th  section  of  every  township  was  re 
served  "for  the  maintenance  of  public  schools  ;"  or,  in  other  words,  one 
section  out  of  every  thirty-six  composing  each  township.  This  same  pro 
vision  was  incorporated  in  the  large  land  sale,  in  1786,  to  the  Ohio  Com 
pany  ;  and,  the  following  year,  in  Judge  Symmes'  purchase.  The 
celebrated  ordinance  of  1787,  for  the  government  of  the  Territory  North 
west  of  the  river  Ohio,  and  which  confirmed  the  provisions  of  the  land 
ordinance  of  1785,  further  declared,  that,  "RELIGION,  MORALITY  and 
KNOWLEDGE,  being  necessary  to  good  government,  and  the  happiness  of 
mankind,  SCHOOLS,  AND  THE  MEANS  OF  EDUCATION,  SHALL  BE  FOREVER  EN 
COURAGED."  From  that  day  to  the  present,  this  noble  policy  has  been 
confirmed  and  extended,  till  its  blessings  now  reach  even  the  distant 
shores  of  the  Pacific,  and  FIFTY  MILLIONS  OF  ACRES  of  the  public  domain 
have  been  set  apart  and  consecrated  to  the  high  and  ennobling  purposes 
of  education  ;  together  with  five  per  cent,  of  the  net  proceeds  of  the  sales 
of  all  public  lands  in  each  of  the  States  and  Territories  in  which  they  are 
situated. 

LYMAN  DRAPER.     Report  of  Supt.  of  Public  Instruction,  1858. 


THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

When  the  rich  man  is  called  from  the  possession  of  his  treasures,  he 
divides  them,  as  he  will,  among  his  children  and  heirs.  But  an  equal 
Providence  deals  not  so  with  the  living  treasures  of  the  mind.  There  are 
children  just  growing  up  in  the  bosom  of  obscurity,  in  town  and  in  coun 
try,  who  have  inherited  nothing  but  poverty  and  health,  who  will,  in  a 
few  years,  be  striving  in  generous  contention  with  the  great  intellects  of 
the  land.  Our  system  of  free  schools  has  opened  a  straight  way  from  the 
threshold  of  every  abode,  however  humble,  in  the  village  or  in  the  city, 
to  the  high  places  of  usefulness,  influence  and  honor.  And  it  is  left  for 
each,  by  the  cultivation  of  every  talent ;  by  watching  with  nn  eagle's 
eye,  for  every  chance  of  improvement ;  by  bounding  forward,  like  a  grey 
hound,  at  the  most  distant  glimpse  of  honorable  opportunity;  by  redeem 
ing  time,  defying  temptation,  and  scorning  pleasure  to  make  himself 
useful,  honored,  and  happy.  EDWARD  EVEKETT. 

It  is  a  noble  and  beautiful  idea  of  providing  wise  institutions  for  the 
unborn  millions  of  the  West ;  of  anticipating  their  good  by  a  sort  of  pa 
rental  providence ;  and  of  associating  together  the  social  and  the  territo 
rial  development  of  the  people,  by  incorporating  these  provisions  with  the 
land  titles  derived  from  the  public  domain,  and  making  school  reserva 
tions  and  road  reservations  essential  parts  of  that  policy. 

CALEB  CUSIIING. 

Doubtless  it  will  be  urged  that  a  general  tax  on  property,  for  this  ob 
ject,  (Public  Schools,)  would  fall  on  many  who  have  no  children,  and  is 
therefore  unjust.  Carry  out  the  principle  of  this  objection,  and  it  would 
overthrow  the  whole  system  of  taxation.  One  would  say  that  he  never 
uses  the  public  roads,  and  therefore  he  must  not  be  taxed  for  them. 
Another  never  goes  out  in  the  evening,  and  therefore  must  not  be  taxed 
for  lighting  the  streets.  Another  denies  the  right  of  all  government  and 
prefers  to  be  without  any  protection  but  that  of  virtue,  he  must  not  be 
taxed  for  courts  and  legislatures.  But  taxation,  we  apprehend,  is  never 
based  on  the  principle  that  the  individual  wants  it  for  his  direct  benefit, 
but  that  the  public  wants  it;  for  the  public  has  a  right  in  all  property 
as  truly  as  the  individual,  and  may  draw  upon  it  for  its  own  uses.  And 
one  of  these  uses  is  the  education  of  the  youth  ;  for  there  is  a  very  im 
portant  sense  in  which  children  belong  to  the  State,  as  they  do  to  the 
family  organization.  Indeed,  if  we  revert  to  the  Jewish,  Persian,  Lace 
demonian,  and  Roman  States — all  those  ancient  fabrics  that  rose  in  the 
youth  time  of  nature — we  see  the  State  to  be  naturally  endowed  with  a 
real  instinct  of  civil  maternity,  making  it  the  first  care  of  her  founders 
and  constitutions,  to  direct  the  education  of  the  youth.  And  why  should 
Bhe  not?  These  are  her  heroes  of  the  future  day,  her  pillars  of  state  and 
justice,  her  voters  on  whose  shoulders  she  rests  her  constitution,  her 
productive  hands,  her  sentinels  of  order,  her  reliance  for  the  security  of 
life,  liberty,  and  property. 

DR.  II. 


THE  STATE  AND  EDUCATION. 

I  know  not  to  what  else  we  can  better  liken  the  strong  appetence  of 
the  mind  for  improvement,  than  to  a  hunger  and  thirst  after  knowledge 
and  truth  ;  nor  how  we  can  better  describe  the  province  of  education, 
than  to  say,  it  does  that  for  the  intellect,  which  is  done  for  the  body, 
when  it  receives  the  care  and  nourishment  which  are  necessary  for  its 
growth,  health  and  strength.  From  this  comparison,  I  think  I  derive 
new  views  of  the  importance  of  education.  It  is  now  a  solemn  duty,  a 
tender,  sacred  trust.  What !  sir,  feed  a  child's  body,  and  let  his  soul 
hunger!  pamper  his  limbs,  and  starve  his  faculties!  Plant  the  earth, 
cover  a  thousand  hills  with  your  droves  of  cattle,  pursue*  the  fish  to  their 
hiding  places  in  the  sea,  and  spread  out  your  wheat  fields  across  the 
plain,  in  order  to  supply  the  wants  of  that  body,  which  will  soon  be  as 
cold  and  as  senseless  as  their  poorest  clod,  and  let  the  pure  spiritual 
essence  within  you,  with  all  its  glorious  capacities  for  improvement,  lan 
guish  and  pine!  What!  build  factories,  turn  in  rivers  upon  the  water- 
wheels,  unchain  the  imprisoned  spirits  of  steam,  to  weave  a  garment  for 
the  body,  and  let  the  soul  remain  unadorned  and  naked !  What !  send 
out  your  vessels  to  the  farthest  ocean,  and  make  battle  with  the  monsters 
of  the  deep,  in  order  to  obtain  the  means  of  lighting  up  your  dwellings 
and  workshops,  and  prolonging  the  hours  of  labor  for  the  meat  that  per- 
isheth,  and  permit  that  vital  spark,  which  God  has  kindled,  which  He 
has  intrusted  to  our  care,  to  be  fanned  into  a  bright  and  heavenly  flame ; 

permit  it,  I  say,  to  languish  and  go  out ! 

EDWARD  EVERETT. 

If  I  were  asked  by  an  intelligent  stranger  to  point  out  to  him  our  most 
valued  possessions,  I  wrould  show  to  him — not  our  railroads,  our  ware 
houses  filled  with  the  we'alth  of  all  the  earth,  our  ships,  our  busy  wharves 
and  marts,  where  the  car  of  commerce  is  ever  "  thundering  loud  with  her 
ten  thousand  wheels;"  but  I  would  carry  him  to  one  of  our  public 
schools,  would  show  him  its  happy  and  intelligent  children,  hushed  into 
reverent  silence  at  their  teacher's  word,  or  humming  over  their  tasks 
with  a  sound  like  that  of  bees  in  June.  I  would  tell  him  that  here  was 
the  foundation  on  which  our  material  prosperity  was  reared,  that  hers 
were  the  elements  from  which  we  constructed  the  State.  Here  are  the 
fountains  from  which  flow  those  streams  which  make  glad  our  land. 
The  schools  of  Boston  arc  dear  to  my  heart.  Though  I  can  have  no  per 
sonal  and  immediate  interest  in  them  ;  though  no  child  on  earth  calls  me 
father ;  yet  most  gladly  do  I  contribute  to  their  support,  according  to 
my  substance ;  and  when  I  see  a  father's  eye  filled  with  pleasant  tears 
as  he  hears  the  music  of  his  child's  voice  linked  to  some  strain  of  poetry 
or  burst  of  cloqitence,  I  can  sympathize  in  the  feeling  in  which  I  can  not 
share.  May  the  blessing  of  Heaven  rest  upon  our  schools.  They  are  an 
object  worthy  of  all  efforts  and  sacrifices.  We  should  lca\se  nothing  un 
done  which  may  tend  to  make  them  more  excellent  and  more  useful. 
For  this  we  should  gather  into  our  own  stores  all  the  harvests  of  expe 
rience  which  have  been  reaped  from  other  soils. 

GEORGE  S.  HILLARD. 


NATIONAL  LANO  GRANTS  FOR   RDL'CATIONAI,  PURPOSES. 


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CONSOLIDATION  AND  OTHER  MODIFICATIONS  OF  AMERICAN  COLLEGES. 


BY    RT.    REV.    ALONZO     POTTER 


THIS  occasion  seems  to  me  to  furnish  an  omen  of  national  interest ; 
may  I  not  add,  of  world-wide  interest.  As  connected  with  higher 
education — with  the  administration  of  Colleges  and  Universities — it 
appears  to  furnish,  at  least,  some  hope  that  several  movements,  which 
I  believe  are  imperiously  needed,  may,  at  no  distant  day,  be  secured. 

In  the  first  place,  this  is  a  consolidation  of  two  independent  colle 
giate  institutions,  and  as  such,  I  hail  it  as  an  event  which  might  be 
repeated  in  our  own  State,  and  throughout  the  land,  with  the  utmost  ad 
vantage.  Hitherto  the  tendency  has  been  to  multiply  colleges,  and 
to  isolate  them.  There  are  now  some  hundred  and  fifty  colleges  in  the 
United  States.  They  all  claim  to  stand  on  the  same  level,  to  teach 
the  same  branches,  and  to  have  the  same  right  to  public  confidence 
and  support.  Resources  which,  if  concentrated,  would  have  been 
ample  for  the  thorough  endowment  of  a  few  institutions,  have  been 
so  scattered,  and  so  large  a!  part  of  them  have  been  so  improvidently 
expended,  that  nearly  all  our  colleges  are  crippled  for  want  of  libra 
ries,  apparatus,  and  a  competent  staff  of  accomplished  teachers.  In 
their  relations  to  each  other,  there  is  neither  affiliation,  subordination, 
nor — except  casually — even  co-operation.  With  a  population  greater 
than  that  of  Britain,  we  are  without  one  University  proper.  Our 
college  system  is  now,  in  respect  to  organization,  where  our  common 
or  public  school  system  was  before  the  establishment  of  High  Schools. 
The  citizens  of  Lancaster  know  how  that  one  measure  infused  new 
life  and  vigor  into  the  whole  school  system  of  this  town — how,  by  a 
proper  distribution  and  gradation  of  work,  the  teaching  has  been  im 
proved  in  every  department ;  and  a  portion  of  the  pupils  carried  for 
ward  much  further  than  formerly.  What  has  thus  been  done  for 
common  schools  needs  to  be  done  for  colleges.  If  they  would  not  be 
distanced  in  the  work  of  progress  and  improvement,  they  must  no 
longer  remain  in  a  state  of  estrangement  from  each  other-  They 
must  contemplate  the  necessity  of  hearty  co-operation,  if  not  of  combi- 

*  Remarks  at  the  formal  opening  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College — formed  by  the  consolida. 
tion  of  tyro  chartered  institutions — Franklin  College  located  at  Lancaster,  and  Marshall  Col 
lego,  located  at  Mercersberg. 


338  ADDRESS    BY   BISHOP   POTTER. 

nation  and  consolidation.  They  must  prepare  the  way  for  the  open 
University  which,  like  the  Universities  of  London  and  France,  may 
be  merely  an  organic  center  for  purposes  of  supervision  ;  or  it  might 
be  constituted  by  a  Board  of  Professors  delegated  from  different 
colleges,  and  giving,  personally,  higher  courses  of  instruction  at  some 
convenient  point.  I  hail  the  union  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College, 
in  the  hope  that  we  are  on  the  eve  of  a  general  movement  among 
similar  institutions  towards  more  of  centralization. 

II.  In  another  respect,  this  event  seems  to  me  to  be  auspicious.  I 
observe  among  your  Professors,  one  gentleman,  at  least,  who  was 
reared  in  a  Foreign  University,  and  who  has  held  an  honorable 
post  as  teacher  in  a  College  in  Southern  Europe.*  I  hear  too,  that 
a  distinguished  German  Professor,  who,  several  years  since,  was  in 
vited  to  leave  his  fatherland  for  a  chair  in  the  Theological  Faculty 
of  Marshall  College,  has  been  invited  to  become  your  President/}" 
Though  I  have  not  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance,  and  can  presume 
to  have  no  opinion  of  his  qualifications  for  such  a  post,  yet  there  is 
one  reason  why  I  earnestly  hope  he  may  accept  this  place.  I  desire 
to  see  the  example  followed  which  Marshall  College  has  given.  In 
almost  every  country  of  Europe,  there  are  men  of  high  endowments, 
of  admirable  erudition,  capable  of  giving  instruction  to  the  most 
advanced  students,  who  are  yet  languishing  in  obscurity  and  poverty. 
Such  talent  exists  in  Germany  to  so  great  an  extent,  that  the 
intellectual  and  scholastic  market  is  actually  glutted.  Here  it  is  far 
otherwise.  Pursuits  of  a  more  exciting  and  engrossing  nature  absorb, 
with  us,  the  energy  and  enthusiasm  which  are  given  among  the 
laborious  earnest-minded  Germans  to  literary  toil.  We  import  their 
laboring  population  by  thousands — we  import  their  accomplished 
artisans  and  agriculturists — we  import  from  all  the  countries  of  con 
tinental  Europe,  teachers  in  the  rudiments  of  their  respective  lan 
guages.  Why  should  we  not  have  a  portion  of  their  illustrious 
scholars  and  savans  also.  Where  can  they  find  a  larger  field,  or  the 
promise  of  better  pecuniary  remuneration  ? 

This  policy  is  recommended  by  various  considerations — and  there 
are  special  reasons  why  it  should  originate  in  Pennsylvania.  This 
•State  has  one  characteristic,  till  recently,  almost  peculiar  to  it.  but 
which  is  fast  growing  to  be  the  characteristic  of  our  nation.  It  is  the 
somewhat  heterogeneous  nationalities  that  are  represented  in  its  popu 
lation.  Not  only  Old  and  New  England,  but  Germany,  Scotland, 
Wales  and  Sweden,  have  long  had  within  this  Commonwealth  colo 
nies  .of  their  people.  This  will  soon  be  the  case  with  every  part  of 
the  United  States.  Ingredients,  which  have  hitherto  been  regarded 

•*  L'rofwor  K«pp«n.  f  Profeuor  ScUaff. 


ADDRESS    BY  BISHOP   POTTER.  339 

as  incongruous  and  discordant,  are  seething  in  our  great  national 
cauldron,  and  we  confidently  expect  to  see  them  fused  and  blended  into 
one  harmonious  whole — penetrated  by  the  one  American  spirit.  This 
result  will  be  sure  and  speedy,  in  proportion  as  the  culture  which  we 
apply  to  the  rising  generation  is  large-minded  and  liberal — having 
respect  to  national  peculiarities  and  combining,  in  a  wise  eclectic 
spirit,  the  methods  of  different  fatherlands.  Where  can  such  a  policy 
originate  so  properly  or  so  readily  as  in  Pennsylvania  ? 

There  is  another  reason  why  it  appears  to  me  desirable  that  our 
higher  instruction  in  this  country  should  have  an  infusion  from  Ger 
many.  That  country  has  given  to  the  world  an  open  Bible,  the  com 
mon  school  and  the  printing  press.  Wherever  these  its  gifts  are 
fully  enjoyed — there  a  reading  and  thinking  people  must  be  formed. 
Combined,  as  they  are  in  this  country,  with  a  free  political  system 
and  with  prodigious  industrial  activity,  they  make  a  nation  of  readers, 
a  nation  of  workers  and  to  some  extent  a  nation  of  thinkers.  Our 
intellectual  activity  is  widespread  and  intense,  and  it  associates  itself 
intimately  with  active  practical  life.  But  the  predominance  of 
that  life  with  us  is  not  friendly  at  present  to  deep  erudition  or  to  pro 
found  and  comprehensive  thinking.  We  have  literature,  but  we  want 
ripe  thorough  scholarship.  We  have  philosophies,  but  they  are 
crude,  presumptuous,  and  narrow.  Errors  and  extravagancies — 
whether  pertaining  to  speculation  or  to  practical  questions — swarm 
over  the  land,  and  in  the  absence  of  vigorous  habits  of  investigation 
and  of  a  copious  learning,  they  perpetuate  themselves  to  the  equal 
injury  and  disgrace  of  our  national  character.  To  her  other  gifts,  then, 
let  Germany  add  one  more.  Let  her  scholars  teach  us  the  patience, 
the  thoroughness,  the  unquenchable  zeal  and  lofty  enthusiasm  with 
which  subjects  should  be  considered ;  and  the  manly  frankness  and 
boldness  with  which  results  should  be  announced.  Let  her  assist  in 
putting  into  our  hands  the  true  Ithuriel  spear,  one  touch  of  which 
will  suffice  to  unmask  pretentious  sophisms,  and  one-sided  schemes, 
and  ambitious,  unscrupulous  sciolism. 

Would  the  German  scholastic  mind  be  injured  by  such  an  associa 
tion  with  ours  ?  No  wise  German  will  think  so.  I  am  not  pre 
pared  to  adopt  the  saying  of  a  distinguished  scholar  (I  think)  of  the 
fatherland,  that  while  the  English  ruled  over  the  sea,  the  French 
over  the  land,  the  sway  of  Germany  was  over  the  air.  I  honor  the 
passion  for  the  ideal,  and  the  stern  enthusiasm  with  which  the  most 
abstruse  philosophical  questions  are  discussed  among  that  noble 
people.  But  no  candid  observer  will  deny,  that  while  the  Anglo- 
American  is  too  much  given  to  empiricism,  the  German  is  rather  too 
much  addicted  to  speculative  dogmatism — too  impatient  of  qualifying 


340  ADDRESS    BY   BISHOP     POTTER. 

theories  by  practice — too  disdainful  of  the  wisdom  which  comes  only 
from  a  combination  of  high  thought  with  active  efficiency.  Could  the 
speculative  tastes  and  liberal  enthusiasm  of  the  one  be  combined  with 
the  robust  sagacity  and  indomitable  enterprise  of  the  other,  we  might 
inaugurate  a  form  of  culture,  nobler  and  more  beneficent  than  the 
world  has  yet  seen.  May  we  not  hope  that  to  promote  such  a  blend 
ing  and  interpenetration  of  these  national  characteristics  will  be  one 
of  the  cherished  objects  of  Franklin  and  Marshall  College  ? 

III.  I  cannot  but  anticipate  another  benefit  from  this  movement. 
The  teaching  in  this  college,  I  trust,  will  always  be  the  result  of 
earnest  thinking,  of  profound  research.  It  is  time  we  had  done  with 
the  notion  that  superficial  men  make  the  best  teachers.  It  is  a  notion 
which  has  been  quite  too  prevalent  in  this  country ;  the  effect  of  it 
has  been  not  only  to  emasculate  our  teaching,  but  to  paralyze  the 
studies  of  our  professors  and  instructors.  It  has  taken  from  them 
that  stimulus  to  daily  effort,  to  continued  freshness  of  thought  and 
ardor  of  inquiry,  which  ought  to  have  been  supplied  by  their  profes 
sion.  The  universities  of  Germany  contain  a  great  practical  refuta 
tion  of  this  pestilent  heresy.  The  most  popular  teachers  have  been 
their  ablest  thinkers  and  profoundest  scholars.  They — and  the  re 
mark  applies  in  some  measure  to  the  professors  of  Scottish  universi 
ties — have  shown  that  a  talent  for  elementary  exposition  is  perfectly 
compatible  with  habits  of  the  most  devoted  and  intricate  research- 
that,  in  truth,  each  promotes  and  is  promoted  by  the  other. 

And  the  same  lesson  has  been  taught  in  the  public  schools  of  this 
city.  There  are  those  present  who  remember  well  a  modest,  unob 
trusive  teacher,  in  one  of  those  schools,  who  was  always  assiduous 
and  successful,  especially  in  the  department  of  mathematics.  He  left 
here  a  few  years  since  to  become  a  teacher  of  the  same 
branch  in  the  Academy  at  Pottsville;  and  scarcely  had  he  departed, 
before  the  scientific  men  of  both  hemispheres  were  startled  by  the 
tidings  that  from  that  remote  and  obscure  institution  had  emanated 
a  discovery  which  was  to  rank  forever  by  the  side  of  those  which 
have  made  the  names  of  Kepler  and  Newton  so  illustrious. 
While  a  resident  of  Lancaster,  Mr.  KIRKWOOD  was  slowly  but  surely 
elaborating  that  law  or  principle  which  bears  his  name.  Let  his 
example  teach  us  then,  that  clear  and  interesting  teaching  in  the 
class-room,  is  not  inconsistent  with  profound  thinking  in  the  closet. 
Let  it  imprint  upon  the  soul  of  every  professor  a  sense  of  the  debt 
which  he  owes,  as  an  original  inquirer,  to  the  department  of  science 
or  letters  which  he  has  in  charge.  Let  it  inspire  all — teachers  and 
pupils — with  the  generous  ambition  to  make  colleges,  here  and  now, 
what  they  were  in  the  days  of  Abelard  in  Europe — places  all  alive 


ADDRESS    BY   BISHOP    POTTER.  341 

with  mental  activity,  places  consecrated  to  the  most  earnest  and  in 
dependent  inquiry. 

IV.  there  is  one  more  feature  which  will,  I  trust,  always  charac 
terize  the  influence  sent  forth  from  Franklin  and  Marshall  College. 
An  institution  bearing  such  a  name  would  be  recreant  to  all  the 
promises  its  name  implies,  if  it  did  not  encourage  public  spirit  and  a 
large-hearted  sympathy  with  humanity  in  all  its  forms  and  interests. 
Franklin  began  every  day  by  asking  himself,  "  What  good  can  I  do 
to  my  fellow  men  to-day  ?"  he  closed  it  by  asking,  '•'  What  good  that  I 
might  have  done  to  my  fellow  men  to-day,  have  I  left  undone  ?"  He 
who  lived  by  such  a  rule  could  not  be  less  than  the  benefactor  of  all 
men.  He  came  to  Philadelphia  a  poor  apprentice  boy.  He  lived  to 
found  its  great  Library,  its  Philosophical  Society,  its  University,  with 
many  provisions  for  its  material  prosperity.  He  lived  to  be  the 
almost  idolized  citizen  of  his  adopted  town  and  State,  and  the  pro 
foundly  honored  and  trusted  sage  of  the  whole  land.  Yet  never, 
when  wearing  his  highest  honors,  did  he  forget  the  humble  origin 
from  which  he  sprang ;  never  did  his  heart  fail  to  beat  with  kindness 
and  consideration  towards  all  who  needed  his  succor  or  his  counsel. 
And  John  Marshall,  too,  how  kindly  and  genial  was  his  spirit?  How 
free  from  arrogance  !  Be  this  the  spirit  that  shall  ever  reign  here. 
Not  our  Pennsylvania  Germans  alone,  many  others  have  dreaded 
colleges  as  nurseries  of  a  silly  aristocratic  pride — as  places  where 
young  men,  coming  from  plain  but  respectable  and  worthy  homes, 
would  learn  to  despise  them ;  as  schools  where  they  would  be  taught 
to  put  scorn  upon  the  institutions  of  their  country  or  the  demands 
of  their  age.  The  gentleman  who  preceded  me  has  adverted  to  these 
impressions.  Erroneous  as  they  are,  they  have  continued  to  live 
because  the  follies  of  young  men,  and  the  mistakes  of  their  teachers , 
have  sometimes  given  countenance  to  them.  Colleges  in  our  land, 
like  Universities  in  England,  have  sometimes  been  slow  to  feel  the 
progress  of  society.  They  have  fallen  back  upon  their  privileges  ; 
they  have  cultivated  too  little  sympathy  with  the  public  mind  which 
it  is  their  office  to  guide  and  instruct.  They  have  asked  the  people 
to  sustain  and  cherish  them ;  but  they  have  sometimes  forgotten  that 
"  love  is  the  loan  for  love."  They  would  have  the  masses  feel  great 
interest  in  the  colleges,  but  they  do  not  always  think  it  necessary  that 
the  colleges  should  care  much  for  the  masses. 

Here,  we  trust,  is  an  institution  where  such  a  spirit  will  be  unknown. 
If  there  are  men  who,  more  than  all  others,  should  have  pulses  throb 
bing  with  a  large  humanity,  with  a  generous  patriotism;  it  is  they  who 
are  in  contact  with  the  fountains  of  thought,  and  whose  business  it  is 
to  trace  the  history  of  our  race  in  its  literature,  and  in  all  its  strug- 


342  ADDKESS    BY    BISHOP   POTTER. 

gles  for  a  fairer  and  happier  lot.  Let  teachers  and  pupils  emulate  each 
other  in  love  for  their  kind,  and  in  quick  sympathy  for  every  effort 
which  would  promote  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number. 
Let<  them  honor  that  which  is  most  worthy  of  honor ;  and  when  they 
go  out  to  mingle  with  the  sons  of  toil,  let  them  put  no  slights  upon  it. 
Let  them  own  its  intrinsic  dignity ;  let  them  strive  that  it  may  be 
associated  with  a  higher  culture ;  let  them  so  bear  themselves  that  it 
shall  be  seen  that  a  college  is  the  true  home  for  large  minds  and 
large  hearts — for  spirits  that  are  enlightened  and  refined  enough 
for  the  highest,  and  kindly  and  courteous  enough  for  the  lowliest  in 
the  land. 

V.  I  cannot  conclude  without  expressing  my  devout  hope  that  this 
college  may  be  administered  in  the  spirit  of  faith.  "If  thou  canst 
believe,  all  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth."  Aim,  friends, 
at  great  things.  Doubt  not,  that  if  true  to  yourselves,  God  will  em 
power  you  to  do  great  things  for  yourselves  and  for  mankind.  Lan 
caster  has  her  model  farms  and  her  model  mills :  why  should  she  not 
have  her  model  college  ?  not  one  where  there  shall  be  many  students 
badly  taught  and  badly  governed ;  but  where  there  shall  be  at  least  a 
few  so  taught  and  so  guided  that  they  shall  be  model  students  here  and 
model  men  abroad.  Young  men,  who  form  the  first  classes  in  Franklin 
and  Marshall  College,  be  models  of  diligence — be  models  of  self- 
respect — be  models  of  scholar-like  enthusiasm.  You  shall  thus  kindle 
a  spirit  here  which  will  burn  on  steadily  from  class  to  class,  and  which 
will  make  you  benefactors  to  this  college,  and  to  your  successors, 
beyond  the  bounds  of  your  utmost  ambition.  Gentlemen  of  the 
Faculty  !  let  nil  desperandum  be  your  motto.  Never  despair  of  your 
pupils,  of  your  Trustees,  of  yourselves.  Let  no  obstacles  dishearten, 
no  failures  weary.  Be  enthusiastic  students,  that  you  may  be  at 
tractive  and  powerful  teachers.  Be  vigilant,  but  loving  and  long- 
suffering  disciplinarians,  that  you  may  knit  these  young  hearts  to  you 
as  with  hooks  of  steel.  And,  gentlemen  of  the  Board  of  Trustees, 
doubt  not  that,  with  a  liberal  steady  policy,  with  unyielding  enthu 
siasm,  you  shall  find  your  fondest  hopes  and  wishes  realized.  Cherish 
this  seat  of  letters,  this  home  of  liberal  arts ;  endow  it  largely  with 
all  means  of  instruction.  Let  its  libraries,  its  museum,  its  halls  of 
apparatus,  teem  with  appliances  for  the  best  teaching  and  the  best 
illustrations.  As  individuals,  imitate  the  noble  benefactions  which 
men  of  successful  enterprise  in  New  England  think  it  a  privilege  to 
bestow  upon  their  seminaries  of  learning;  and  do  not  permit  your 
selves  to  close  you  eyes  on  life,  without  having  left  behind  you  here 
some  honorable  memorial  of  your  zeal  in  behalf  of  Religion  and  of 
Learning. 


EDUCATIONAL  BIOGRAPHY. 


ALONZO  POTTER,  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 

RT.  REV.  ALOXZO  POTTER,  D.  D.,  the  first  President  of  the  American  Asso 
ciation  for  the  Advancement  of  Education,  was  born  of  parents  who  were  of 
Rhode  Island,  in  Beekman,  (now  La  Grange,)  in  Duchess  County,  New  York, 
July  10th  1800,  and  died  in  San  Francisco,  California,  July  4th,  1865.  After 
attending  the  common  school  of  his  town  till  he  was  fourteen  years  old,  he  enjoyed 
the  advantages  of  a  classical  and  mathematical  training  for  college,  in  the  acad 
emy  at  Poughkeepsie,  then  under  the  charge  of  Daniel  S.  Barnes,  who  was 
afterward  associated  with  Dr.  Griscom  in  the  Public  High  School  of  the  City  of 
New  York.  He  graduated  in  1818,  at  Union  College,  the  first  scholar  in  a  class 
which  included  many  men  who  afterward  became  eminent. 

He  commenced  teaching  immediately  after  graduating,  in  Philadelphia,  and  in 
the  following  year  was  called  to  Union  College  as  tutor,  where  he  became,  in 
1321,  Professor  of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy,  which  Chair  he  filled 
till  1826,  when  he  became  Rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  Boston,  but  returned 
to  Schenectady  in  1831,  on  the  urgent  solicitation  of  his  father-in-law.  Dr.  Nott, 
to  become  Vice  President  and  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  Union  College, 
which  positions  he  filled  till  1845,  when  he  was  elected  Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of 
Pennsylvania.  As  a  college  officer  and  teacher,  he  has  had  no  superior  for  thor 
ough  instruction,  and  the  power  of  cultivating  lofty  aspirations  and  a  manly  char 
acter  in  his  pupils  •  and  while  doing  his  whole  duty  as  a  college  officer  and  teacher, 
and  as  Rector  and  Bishop,  no  man  in  his  day  and  place  did  more  to  promote  the 
cause  of  popular  education  and  religious  philanthropy.  He  was  the  adviser  of 
James  Wadsvvorth  of  Geneva,  in  his  voluntary  labors,  and  pecuniary  contribu 
tions,  and  of  the  School  Department  at  Albany  in  its  official  action,  and  of  the 
friends  of  popular  education,  in  all  efforts  to  establish  School  Libraries,  Educa 
tional  Periodicals,  County  Supervision,  State  Normal  Schools,  and  to  elevate  and 
inform  public  sentiment  on  the  whole  subject  of  Educational  Improvement.  His 
wise  counsel  and  earnest  appeals  were  sure  to  be  heard  in  all  County,  State,  and 
National  School  Conventions,  up  to  the  day  that  his  own  nervous  system  broke 
down  beneath  his  manifold  labors.  The  Hospital,  the  Divinity  School,  the  Lite 
rary  and  Lecture  Associations  of  Philadelphia,  and  every  department  of  educa 
tion  in  Pennsylvania  felt  the  impulse  of  his  earnest  spirit.  The  School  for  Imbe 
ciles  at  Media  was  a  charity  of  his  suggestion  and  efforts. 

On  the  outbreak  of  the  rebellion,  Bishop  Potter  took  a  decided  stand  on  the 
side  of  the  National  Government,  was  an  active  member  of  the  Sanitary  and 
Christian  Commissions,  and  an  earnest  friend  of  Emancipation — devoting  much 
time  to  the  hospitals  of  invalid  and  wounded  soldiers,  until  his  vital  powers 
were  exhausted,  when  he  took  a  voyage  to  the  Pacific,  but  died  before  he  could 
be  taken  to  the  land. 

Bishop  Potter  was  the  author  of  "  The  Principles  of  Science  applied  to  the 
Domestic  and  Mechanic  Arts,"  "Political  Economy,  its  Objects,  Uses  and  Prin 
ciples,"  and  a  "Hand  Book  for  Readers  and  Students" — all  published  in  Har 
pers'  District  School  Library,  which  was  got  up  under  his  supervision.  "  The 
School,"  the  first  part  of  the  "School  and  Schoolmaster,"  was  prepared  by  him 
at  the  request  of  Mr.  Wadsworth,  and  had  a  circulation  of  over  60,000  copies. 
He  received  the  degree  of  D.  D.  from  Harvard  College,  and  of  LL.  D.  from 
Union  College. 


344  EDWARD   EVERETT. 


PUBLIC    SCHOOLS   FIFTY    TEARS    AGO. 

It  was,  as  I  have  said,  sir,  fifty-two  years  la&t  April  since  I  began,  at  the  age 
of  nine  years,  to  attend  the  reading  and  writing  schools  in  North  Bennett  street. 
The  reading  school  was  under  .Vaster  Little  (for  "  Young  America  "  had  not 
yet  repudiated  that  title),  and  the  writing  school  was  kept  by  Master  Tileston. 
Master  Little,  in  spite  of  his  name,  was  a  grant  in  stature,  —  six  feet  four,  at 
least,  —  and  somewhat  wedded  to  the  past.  He  struggled  earnestly  against  the 
change  then  taking  place  in  the  pronunciation  of  u,  and  insisted  on  our  saying 
iiionooment  and  nutur.  But  I  acquired,  under  his  tuition,  what  was  thought 
in  those  days  a  very  tolerable  knowledge  of  Lindley  Murray's  abridgment  of 
English  Grammar,  and  at  the  end  of  the  yenr  could  parse  almost  any  sentence 
in  the  American  Preceptor.  Master  Tileston  was  a  writing-master  of  the  old 
school.  He  set  the  copies  himself,  and  taught  that  beautiful  old  Boston  hand 
writing,  which,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  has  in  the  march  of  innovation  (which  is 
not  always  the  same  thing  as  improvement)  been  changed  very  little  for  the 
better.  Master  Tileston  was  advanced  in  years,  and  had  found  a  qualification 
for  his  calling  as  a  writing-master,  in  what  might  have  seemed  at  first  to 
threaten  to  be  an  obstruction.  The  fingers  of  his  right  hand  had  been  con 
tracted  and  stiffened  in  early  life  by  a  burn,  but  were  fixed  in  just  the  position 
to  hold  a  pen,  a  penknife,  and  a  rattan  !  As  they  were  also  considerably  indu 
rated,  they  served  as  a  convenient  instrument  of  discipline.  A  copy  badly 
written  or  a  blotted  page  was  sometimes  visited  with  an  infliction  which  would 
have  done  no  discredit  to  the  beak  of  a  bald  eagle.  I  speak,  sir,  from  observa 
tion  not  from  experience.  His  long,  deep  desk  was  a  perfect  curiosity-ehop  of 
confiscated  balls,  tops,  penknives,  marbles,  and  jewsharps  ;  the  accumulation 
of  forty  years.  I  desire,  however,  to  speak  of  him  with  gratitude,  for  he  put 
me  on  the  track  of  an  acquisition  which  has  been  extremely  useful  to  me  in 
after  life,  —  that  of  a  plain,  legible  hand.  I  remained  at  these  schools  about 
sixteen  months,  and,  on  leaving  them,  had  the  good  fortune  in  1804  to  receive 
the  Franklin  medal  in  the  English  department. 

After  an  interval  of  about  a  year  (during  which  I  attended  a  private  school 
taught  by  Mr.  Ezekiel  Webster,  a  distinguished  gentleman  of  New  Hampshire, 
and,  on  occasion  of  his  absence,  by  his  much  more  distinguished  and  ever  mem 
orable  brother,  Daniel  Webster,  at  that  time  a  student  of  law  in  Boston),  I 
went  to  the  Latin  School,  then  slowly  emerging  from  a  state  of  extreme  depres 
sion.  It  was  kept  in  School-street,  where  the  Horticultural  Hall  now  stands. 
Those  who  judge  of  what  the  Boston  Latin  School  ought  to  be  from  the  spacious 
and  commodious  building  in  Bedford-street,  can  form  but  little  idea  of  the  old 
school-house.  It  contained  but  one  room,  heated  in  the  winter  by  an  iron 
stove,  which  sent  up  a  funnel  into  a  curious  brick  chimney,  built  down  from  the 
roof,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  to  within  seven  or  eight  feet  from  the  floor, 
being,  like  Mahomet's  coffin,  held  in  the  air  to  the  roof  I  hardly  know  how, 
perhaps  by  bars  of  iron.  The  boys  had  to  take  their  turns  in  winter  in  coming 
early  to  the  school-house,  to  open  it ;  to  make  a  fire  sometimes  of  wet  logs  and 
a  very  inadequate  supply  of  other  combustibles,  if  such  they  might  be  called  ; 
to  sweep  out  the  room,  and,  if  need  be,  to  shovel  a  path  through  the  snow  to 
the  street.  These  were  not  very  fascinating  duties  for  an  urchin  of  ten  or 
eleven  ;  but  we  lived  through  it,  and  were  perhaps  not  the  worse  for  having  to 
turn  our  hand  to  these  little  offices. 

The  standard  of  scholastic  attainment  was  certainly  not  higher  than  that  of 
material  comfort  in  those  days.  We  read  pretty  much  the  game  books,  or 
books  of  the  same  class,  in  Latin  and  Greek,  as  are  read  now,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  Greek  Testament ;  but  we  read  them  in  a  very  cursory  and  superfi 
cial  manner.  There  was  no  attention  paid  to  the  philosophy  of  the  languages, 
to  the  deduction  of  words  from  their  radical  elements,  to  the  niceties  of  con 
struction,  still  less  to  prosody.  I  never  made  an  hexameter  or  pentameter 
verse,  till  years  afterwards,  when  I  had  a  son  at  school  in  London,  who  occa 
sionally  required  a  little  aid  in  that  way.  The  subsidiary  and  illustrative 
branches  were  wholjy  unknown  in  the  Latin  School  in  1805.  Such  a  thing  as 
a  school  library,  a  book  of  reference,  a  critical  edition  of  a  classic,  a  mkp,  a 
blackboard,  an  engraving  of  an  ancient  building,  or  a  copy  of  a  work  of 
ancient  art,  such  as  now  adorn  the  walls  of  our  schools,  was  as  little  known  aa 


EDWARD    EVERETT.  345 

the  electric  telegraph.     If  our  children,  who  possess  all  these  appliances  and 
aids  to  learning,  do  not  greatly  excel  their  parents,  they  will  be  much  to  blame. 

COLLEGE    LIFE    FIFTY    YEARS   AGO. 

But,  short  as  the  time  is  since  I  entered  college  (only  half  as  long  as  that 
which  has  elapsed  since  the  close  of  the  seven  years'  war),  it  has  made  me  the 
witness  of  wonderful  changes,  both  materially  and  intellectually,  in  all  that 
concerns  our  Alma  Mater.  Let  me  sketch  you  the  outlines  of  the  picture, 
fresh  to  my  mind's  eye  as  the  image  in  the  camera,  which  the  precincts  of  the 
college  exhibited  in  1807.  The  Common  was  then  uninclosed.  It  was  not  so 
much  traversed  by  roads  in  all  directions  ;  it  was  at  once  all  road  and  no  road 
at  all,  —  a  waste  of  mud  and  of  dust,  according  to  the  season,  without  grass, 
trees,  or  fences.  As  to  the  streets  in  those  days,  the  "  Appian  Way  "  existed 
then  as  now  ;  and  I  must  allow  that  it  bore  the  same  resemblance  then  as  now 
to  the  Regina  Viarum,  by  which  the  consuls  and  proconsuls  of  Rome  went 
forth  to  the  conquest  of  Epirus,  Macedonia,  and  the  East. 

As  to  public  buildings  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  University,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  no  one  of  the  churches  now  standing  was  then  in 
existence.  The  old  parish  church  has  disappeared,  with  its  square  pews,  and 
galleries  from  which  you  might  almost  jump  into  the  pulpit.  It  occupied  a 
portion  of  the  space  between  Dane  Hall  and  the  old  Presidential  House.  I 
planted  a  row  of  elm  and  oak  trees  a  few  years  ago  on  the  spot  where  it  stood, 
for  which,  if  for  nothing  else,  I  hope  to  be  kindly  remembered  by  posterity. 
The  wooden  building  now  used  as  a  gjrnnnsium,  and,  I  believe,  for  some  other 
purposes,  then  stood  where  Lyceum  Hall  now  stands.  It  was  the  county  court- 
Jiouse  ;  and  there  I  often  heard  the  voice  of  the  venerable  Chief  Justice  Par 
sons.  Graduates'  Hall  did  not  exist  ;  but  on  a  part  of  the  site,  and  behind 
the  beautiful  linden  trees  still  nourishing,  was  an  old  black  wooden  house,  the 
residence  of  the  professors  of  mathematics.  A  little  further  to  the  north,  and 
just  at  the  corner  of  Church-street,  which  was  not  then  opened,  stood  what  was 
dignified  in  the  annual  college  catalogue  (which  was  printed  on  one  side  of  a 
sheet  of  paper,  and  was  a  novelty)  as  "  The  College  House."  The  cellar  is 
still  visible.  By  the  students  this  edifice  was  disrespectfully  called  "  Wiswall's 
Den,"  or,  for  brevity,  "  the  Den."  I  lived  in  it  in  my  freshman  year. 
•Whence  the  name  of  "  W'iswall's  Den  "  was  derived,  I  hardly  dare  say  :  there 
was  something  worse  than  "  old  fogy  "  about  it.  There  was  a  dismal  tradition 
that,  at  some  former  period,  it  had  been  the  scene  of  a  murder.  A  brutal  hus 
band  had  dragged  his  wife  by  the  hair  up  and  down  the  stairs,  and  then  killed 
her.  On  the  anniversary  of  the  murder  —  arid  what  day  that  was  no  one  knew  — 
there  were  sights  and  sounds  —  flitting  garments  draggled  hi  blood,  plaintive 
screams,  stridorferri  tractceque  catenas.  —  enough  to  appall  the  stoutest  sopho 
more.  But,  for  myself,  I  can  truly  say,  that  I  got  through  my  freshman  year 
without  having  seen  the  ghost  of  Mr.  Wiswall  or  his  lamented  lady.  I  was 
not,  however,  sorry  when  the  twelvemonth  was  up,  and  I  was  transferred  to 
that  light,  airy,  well-ventilated  room,  No.  20  Hollis  ;  being  the  inner  room, 
ground-floor,  north  entry  of  that  ancient  and  respectable  edifice. 

COMMON    SCHOOLS    AND    COLLEGES. 

The  worthy  chairman  of  the  committee  alluded  to  the  University  in  this 
place  ;  and,  as  he  made  the  allusion,  the  thought  crossed  my  mind  to  institute 
a  comparison  of  the  expense  with  which  the  University  and  the  public  schools 
of  Cambridge  are  supported.  It  may  enable  us  to  realize  how  great  an  effort 
is  made  by  the  citizens  of  Cambridge  to  support  their  public  schools.  The 
annual  expenditure  for  the  support  of  our  schools  exceeds  twenty  thousand  dol 
lars,  without  including  the  building  and  repair  of  school-houses.  Last  year  it 
was  twenty-one  thousand  dollars.  Now  the  University,  as  we  all  know,  is  by 
far  the  oldest  and  best  endowed  in  the  country  ;  but  the  whole  annual  income 
of  its  funds  applicable  to  the  business  of  instruction  (I  speak  of  Harvard  Col 
lege  proper,  and  not  of  the  professional  and  scientific  schools  connected  with 
the  University),  is  less  than  that  sum.  All  that  the  liberality  of  the  State  and 


346  EDWARD    EVERETT. 

the  bounty  of  individuals  for  two  centuries  have  accumulated  on  this  favored 
seat  of  learning,  in  the  shape  of  funds  for  carrying  on  the  work  of  instruction 
(and  I  do  not  include  the  cost  of  buildings,  cabinets,  and  libraries  in  reference 
to  the  University,  as  I  have  not  included  the  cost  of  school-houses,  apparatus, 
and  libraries  in  reference  to  the  schools),  does  not  yield  so  large  a  sum  annu 
ally,  as  the  city  of  Cambridge  appropriates  to  support  this  system  of  common 
school  education. 

WHAT    COMMON-SCHOOL    EDUCATION    DOES. 

I  certainly  cannot  on  this  occasion,  and  in  the  few  minutes'  time  still  left 
me,  undertake  to  treat  this  mighty  theme  in  all  its  bearings  ;  but  I  do  not  de 
spair,  even  in  a  few  sentences,  of  suggesting  to  you  the  great  points  of  the  argu 
ment.  I  will  take  school  education  in  its  common  simple  acceptation,  as  con 
fined  to  reading  and  writing  (in  which  I  include  speaking  and  composition), 
Arithmetic,  and  the  elements  of  natural  philosophy  ;  and  I  believe  the  exten 
sion  to  a  whole  community  of  the  means  of  obtaining  such  an  education  with 
out  cost,  is  sufficient  to  effect  all  I  ascribe  to  it.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say 
that  I  do  not,  in  these  statements,  hold  up  education  as  a  creative  cause.  I 
take  into  the  account  the  spontaneous  cooperation  of  the  mysterious  principle 
of  intelligence,  with  all  its  perceptive  faculties,  bestowed  and  quickened  by  the 
Author  of  our  being  ;  just  as  the  farmer,  when  he  describes  the  effect  of  the 
various  processes  of  husbandry,  includes  the  cooperation  of  those  inscrutable 
principles  of  vegetable  growth,  which  philosophy  strives  in  vain  to  analyze, 
but  without  which  not  an  ear  of  corn  is  ripened. 

With  this  explanation  I  say,  sir,  that  common  reading  and  writing,  that  is, 
in  a  word,  the  use  of  language  as  a  system  of  visible  and  audible  signs  of 
thought,  is  the  great  prerogative  of  our  nature  as  rational  beings.  I  say  that 
when  we  have  acquired  the  mastery  of  this  system  of  audible  and  visible  signs, 
we  have  done  the  greatest  thing,  as  it  seems  to  me,  as  far  as  intellect  is  con 
cerned,  which  can  be  done  by  a  rational  man.  It  is  so  common  that  we  do  not 
much  reflect  upon  it ;  but,  like  other  common  things,  it  hides  a  great  mystery 
of  our  nature.  When  we  have  learned  how,  by  giving  an  impulse  with  our 
vocal  organs  to  the  air,  by  making  a  few  black  marks  on  a  piece  of  paper,  to 
establish  a  direct  sympathy  between  our  invisible  and  spiritual  essence  and  that 
of  other  men,  so  that  they  can  see  and  hear  what  is  passing  in  our  minds,  just 
as  if  thought  and  feeling  themselves  were  visible  and  audible,  —  not  only  so, 
when  in  the  same  way  we  establish  a  communication  between  mind  and  mind 
in  ages  and  countries  the  most  remote,  we  have  wrought  a  miracle  of  human 
power  and  skill,  which  I  never  reflect  upon  without  awe.  Can  we  realize,  sir, 
that  in  this  way  we  have,  through  the  medium  of  the  declamation  of  these  chil 
dren,  been  addressed  this  morning  by  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  by  Burke  and 
Fox  ?  Well,  sir,  all  this  is  done  by  writing,  reading  and  speaking.  It  is  a 
result  of  these  simple  operations.  When  you  tell  me  a  boy  has  learned  to  read, 
you  tell  me  that  he  has  entered  into  an  intellectual  partnership  not  only  with 
every  living  contemporary,  but  with  every  mind  ever  created  that  has  left  a 
record  of  itself  on  the  pages  of  science  and  literature  ;  and  when  he  has  learned 
to  write,  he  has  acquired  the  means  of  speaking  to  generations  and  ages  that 
will  exist  a  thousand  years  hence.  It  all  comes  back  to  the  use  of  language. 
The  press,  the  electric  telegraph,  are  only  improvements  in  the  mode  of  com 
munication.  The  wonderful  thing  is  that  the  mysterious  significance  of 
thought,  the  invisible  action  of  spirit,  can  be  embodied  in  sounds  aud  signs 
addressed  to  the  eye  and  ear.  Instead  of  wondering  that  among  speaking, 
writing,  and  reading  men  you  have  occasionally  a  Shakspeare,  a  Bacon,  or  a 
Franklin,  my  wonder  is  to  see  these  boys  and  girls,  after  a  few  years'  training, 
able  to  express,  in  written  marks  and  spoken  sounds,  the  subtlest  shades  of 
thought,  and  that  in  two  or  three  languages. 

Tin-  next  branch  of  common-school  education  is  arithmetic,  the  science  of 
numbers,  the  elements  of  mathematics.  This  is  in  reality  a  branch  of  the  great 
department  of  language,  a  species  of  composition  ;  but  of  so  peculiar  a  nature 
as  to  constitute  a  separate  scienoe.  This  is  another  of  the  great  master-keys  of 
life.  With  it  the  astronomer  opens  the  depths  of  the  heavens  ;  the  engineer, 
the  gates  of  the  mountains  ;  the  navigator,  the  pathways  of  the  deep.  The 


EDWARD    EVERETT.  347 

skilful  arrangement,  the  rapid  handling  of  figures,  is  a  perfect  magician's 
wand.  The  mighty  commerce  of  the  United  States,  foreign  and  domestic,  passes 
through  the  books  kept  by  some  thousands  of  diligent  and  faithful  clerks. 
Eight  hundred  bookkeepers,  in  the  Bank  of  England,  strike  the  monetary 
balances  of  half  the  civilized  world.  Their  skill  and  accuracy  in  applying  the 
common  rules  of  arithmetic  are  as  important  as  the  enterprise  and  capital  of 
the  merchant,  or  the  industry  and  courage  of  the  navigator.  I  look  upon  a 
well-kept  ledger  with  something  of  the  pleasure  with  which  I  gaze  on  a  picture 
or  a  statue.  It  is  a  beautiful  work  of  art.  It  is  by  arithmetical  rules,  and 
geometrical  diagrams,  and  algebraical  formulae,  that  the  engineer  digs  an 
underground  river-channel  for  an  inland  lake,  and  carries  a  stream  of  fresh 
water  into  every  house  in  a  crowded  capital.  Many  a  slate-full  of  vulgar  frac 
tions  has  been  figured  out,  to  enable  our  neighbors  in  Boston  to  sip  a  glass  of 
Cochituate  ;  and  I  suppose,  sir,  a  good  many  of  the  citizens  of  Cambridge 
think  it  is  pretty  nearly  time  that  we  should  go  to  work  on  the  same  sum. 

Then  come  the  elements  of  natural  philosophy  and  natural  science,  the  laws 
of  organic  and  inorganic  nature,  of  which  something  is  taught  in  our  common 
schools.  Is  it  wonderful  that  a  community,  in  which  this  knowledge  is  diffused, 
should  multiply  itself  a  hundred-fold?  I  mean  is  it  wonderful  that  one  well- 
taught  man  should  do  the  work  of  uninstructed  thousands  ?  Mythology  tells 
us  of  Briareus  with  his  hundred  hands,  and  Argus  with  his  hundred  eyes  ;  but 
these  are  only  faint  images  of  the  increased  strength  and  sharpened  vision 
which  kriowledge  imparts  to  the  well  educated.  Mr.  Agassiz  sees  a  great  deal 
more  with  his  two  eyes  than  Argus  did  with  his  hundred.  Mr.  Bond  beholds  a 
satellite  of  Neptune  in  the  depths  of  the  heavens,  three  thousand  millions  of 
miles  from  the  sun,  a  body  perhaps  not  five  hundred  miles  in  diameter,  as 
easily  as  the  diver  beholds  a  pearl  oyster  in  seven  fathoms  of  water.  No  Titan 
that  fought  with  Jupiter,  and  piled  Ossa  upon  Pelion,  had  as  much  strength  in 
his  arm,  as  the  engineer  has  in  his  thumb  and  finger,  when  he  turns  the  screw 
that  lets  the  steam  into  the  cylinder  of  his  engine.  What  is  there  in  the  Ara 
bian  Nights  like  the  skill  of  the  Metallurgist,  who  converts  a  shapeless  piece  of 
iron  ore  into  the  mainspring  of  a  watch  ?  What  was  there  in  Michael  Scott's 
book  to  compare  with  the  practical  necromancy  of  the  chemist  ? 

Now  these  are  branches  of  knowledge  of  which  the  elements  are  taught  at  our 
schools  ;  and  need  I  urge  that  such  a  control  of  the  signs  of  thought,  such  a 
possession  of  the  keys  of  knowledge,  such  a  consciousness  of  power  over  nature 
as  results  from  this  acquaintance  with  her  mysteries,  is  quite  sufficient  in  the 
aggregate  to  give  a  character  to  a  community  ;  not  certainly  to  produce  won 
derful  effects  in  each  individual,  but  in  their  united  and  continuous  operation 
to  promote  the  prosperity  of  a  State. 

CONDITIONS   OF    A    GOOD  SCHOOL. 

These  liberal  pecuniary  appropriations,  however,  are  but  the  first  step  ;  they 
give  you  school-houses,  school-libraries,  apparatus,  and  fuel,  and  the  salaries 
of  teachers  ;  but  the  teachers  themselves  are  not  to  be  had  merely  by  paying 
for  them.  A  class  of  skilful,  accomplished,  and  conscientious  teachers  can 
only  be  gradually  formed.  They  must  be  men  and  women,  a  considerable  part 
of  them,  vAw  have  chosen  the  work  of  education  as  the  business  of  their  lives  ; 
who  give  to  it  their  time,  their  abilities,  and  their  hearts.  Such  a  class  of 
teachers  is  not  to  be  had  by  asking  for  it.  It  must  form  itself  in  the  bosom  of 
an  intelligent  and  virtuous  community,  that  knows  how  to  prize  them,  that 
holds  them  in  high  esteem,  as  some  of  its  most  honored  public  servants.  There 
are  portions  of  our  country,  in  which,  if  you  were  to  stud  them  thick  with  our 
beautiful  school-houses,  with  all  their  appliances,  apparatus,  and  libraries,  you 
could  not  work  the  system  for  want  of  teachers,  nor  get  the  teachers  merely  by 
advertising  for  them.  Sir,  I  say  it  for  no  purpose  of  compliment  in  this  place  ; 
the  school-teachers  in  this  community  constitute  a  class  inferior  in  respectabil 
ity  to  no  other,  rendering  the  most  important  services,  by  no  means  over-com 
pensated,  rather  the  reverse.  I  consider  their  character  and  reputation  as  a 
part  of  the  moral  treasure  of  the  public,  which  we  cannot  prize  too  highly. 

Closely  connected  with  the  teacher,  and  of  the  utmost  importance  in  a  good 
school  system,  is  the  school  committee,  a  most  efficient  part  of  the  educational 


348  EDWARD    EVERETT. 

machinery.  Much  of  the  prosperity  of  our  schools  depends  upon  these  commit 
tees.  They  stand  between  all  the  interests,  parents,  pupils,  and  the  public  ; 
connect  them  all,  mediate  between  them  all.  An  intelligent  committee  is  the 
teacher's  great  ally.  They  witness  his  labors,  and  mark  the  proficiency  of  the 
pupils.  Ihey  counsel  him  in  cases  of  doubt ;  share  or  assume  the  responsibil 
ity  in  cases  of  difficulty.  A  community  may  think  itself  highly  favored  when 
gentlemen  of  respectability  in  the  several  professions,  and  in  the  active  callings 
of  life,  can  be  found,  as  in  the  city  of  Cambridge  at  the  present  time,  to  under 
take  this  laborious  and  responsible  office.  Nor  will  an  efficient  school  system 
readily  be  sustained  where  this  cannot  be  done.  I  own,  sir,  I  witness  with 
admiration  the  spectacle  of  gentlemen,  whom  I  know  to  be  burdened  with  heavy 
and  incessant  duties  of  their  own,  and  are  yet  willing,  day  after  day,  and  week 
after  week,  in  summer  and  in  winter,  to  devote  themselves  to  a  laborious, 
thorough,  and  conscientious  examination  of  the  schools  ;  besides  looking  in 
upon  them  frequently,  and  being  always  accessible  for  counsel  and  direction,  in 
the  intervals  of  the  periodical  visitations. 

But,  sir,  all  this  is  not  enough.  In  order  that  the  school  should  prosper,  no 
small  part  of  the  work  must  be  done  at  home.  Let  the  father  and  the  mother, 
who  think  that  their  child  has  made  but  little  progress  at  school,  bear  this  in 
mind.  I  am  almost  tempted  to  say,  without  intending  a  paradox,  that  half  of 
the  government,  if  not  of  the  instruction  of  the  school,  must  be  done  at  home. 
This  I  will  say,  that  if  nothing  is  done  at  home  to  support  the  teacher,  his 
labor  is  doubled.  The  parent  must  take  an  interest  in  his  boy's  or  his  girl's 
pursuits,  and  let  that  interest  be  seen.  It  is  shocking  to  reflect  how  often  the 
child  is  sent  to  school  "  to  get  him  out  of  the  way."  There  will  be  no  good 
schools  in  the  community  where  that  is  the  prevalent  motive.  No,  he  must  lie 
sent  there  for  his  good  and  yours.  Your  heart  must  go  with  him.  He  is  not 
nn  alien  and  a  plague,  to  be  got  rid  of  for  so  many  hours.  He  is  a  part  of 
yourself  ;  what  he  learns,  you  learn  ;  it  is  your  own  continued  existence,  in 
which  you  love  yourself  with  a  heavenly  disinterestedness.  And  yet  you  are 
not  to  let  your  parental  fondness  blind  you.  Do  not  listen  to  every  tale  of 
childish  grievance  against  the  master.  The  presumption  is,  that  nine  times  out 
of  ten  the  grievance  is  imaginary  ;  in  truth,  the  presumption  is  always  so, 
generally  the  fact  is  so.  Then,  too,  the  parent's  cooperation  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  in  other  ways.  For  many  of  the  short-comings  of  scholars,  the 
parents  are  the  party  to  blame.  It  is  their  fault,  if  he  stays  at  home  for  a 
breath  of  cold  air  or  a  drop  of  rain.  It  is  the  fault  of  a  father  or  mother,  if 
the  poor  child  cannot  get  his  breakfast  in  season,  or  if  his  clothes  are  not  in 
•wearing  condition.  Let  the  child  see  betimes  that,  in  the  opinion  of  his  parents, 
going  to  school  is  one  of  the  most  important  things-to  be  attended  to  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  and  he  will  so  regard  it  himself. 

HALF  A  CENTURY  AGO. 

In  fact,  Mr.  Chairman,  there  are  few  things  in  which  the  rapid  progress  of 
the  country  is  so  apparent  as  in  its  institutions  for  education.  The  learned  Sec 
retary  of  the  Board  of  Education  (Rev.  Dr.  Sears)  has  just  alluded  to  the 
defects  of  the  schools  in  some  remote  parts  of  the  Commonwealth,  unfavorably 
situated  in  this  respect.  I  dare  sny  his  representations  are  correct  ;  but  the 
younger  part  of  this  audience  would  not  believe  me,  no  one  scarcely  whose  own 
recollection  did  not  confirm  it  would  believe  me,  if  I  were  to  describe  the  state 
of  what  were  called  good  schools  when  I  wn<=  myself  a  school-boy,  more  years 
ngo,  Mr.  Chairman,  than  I  believe  I  shall  tell  you.  I  allude  to  the  condition 
of  the  best  public  schools  of  that  day.  The  instruction  in  what  are  commonly 
called  the  English  branches  wns  confined  to  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  gram 
mar,  and  geography,  all  taught  according  to  very  defective  methods,  and  with 
the  help  of  poor  manuals.  The  books  t':»r  reading  and  speaking  were  either 
foreign,  some  of  them  consisting  of  matter  selected  without  judgment  and  taste, 
and  ill-adapted  to  this  country,  or,  if  of  domestic  manufacture,  not  much 
better  adapted,  on  that  account,  to  form  the  taste  of  the  young  American 
speaker  or  reader.  In  fact,  our  native  literature,  at  that  time,  afforded  but 
scanty  materials  for  a  useful  and  interesting  selection.  In  grammar,  we  had  a 
very  imperfect  abridgment  of  a  work  of  but  moderate  merit  in  its  original 


EDWARD   EVERETT.  349 

form.  For  arithmetic  we  depended  on  the  work  of  Pike.  I  desire  to  speak 
respectfully  of  it,  as  I  learned  from  it  what  little  I  learned  at  all  of  the  noble 
science  of  numbers  ;  and,  in  fact,  in  the  elementary  rules,  there  cannot  be 
room  for  much  diversity  of  method.  But  good  or  bad,  there  were  few  schools 
that  carried  the  pupil  far  beyond  the  Rule  of  Three.  Single  and  double  fel 
lowship  was  rather  a  rare  attainment,  and  alligation,  medial  and  alternate,  a 
thing  to  talk  of.  As  for  logarithms,  geometry  and  its  various  applications,  and 
algebra,  they  belonged  to  a  terra  incognita,  of  which  no  school-boy  ever  heard, 
who  had  not  an  older  brother  at  college.  As  to  the  blackboard,  I  never  heard 
of  such  a  thing  at  school.  Geography  was  taught,  at  that  day,  from  very  im 
perfect  compends  ;  it  was  confined  to  a  rehearsal  of  a  few  meagre  facts  in 
physical  geography,  and  a  few  barren  statistical  details,  which  ceased  to  be 
true  while  you  were  repeating  them.  The  attention  of  the  learner  was  never 
called  to  the  philosophy  of  this  beautiful  branch  of  knowledge  ;  he  was  taught 
nothing  of  the  relations  in  which  man  stands  to  the  wonderful  globe  on  which 
he  is  placed.  No  glimpse  was  given  him  of  the  action  and  reaction  upon  each 
other,  in  this  department  of  knowledge,  of  nature  and  man.  A  globe,  I 
believe,  I  never  saw  at  a  public  school  near  enough  to  touch  it.  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  was  ever  in  the  same  room  with  one,  at  that  period  of  my  life,  though  I 
will  not  speak  with  entire  confidence  on  that  point.  A  large  and  accurate  map 
was  never  exhibited  in  school  fifty  years  ago.  I  do  not  speak  of  such  beautiful 
maps  as  those  now  constructing  under  the  superintendence  of  Professor  Guyot, 
with  their  admirable  ethnographical  indications,  isothermal  lines,  vegetable 
boundaries,  oceanic  currents,  and  careful  delineations  of  those  breaks  in  the 
mountain  chains,  which  have  determined  the  paths  of  civilization.  I  do  not 
speak  of  these  refinements  with  which  the  eyes  of  the  young  student  of  geog 
raphy  are  daily  feasted  at  the  present  day,  but  of  large,  distinct,  well-executed 
maps  of  any  kind  ;  I  never  saw  one  at  school.  The  name  of  natural  or  moral 
philosophy  was  never  heard  in  our  English  schools  at  that  day  ;  it  was  much 
if  some  small  smattering  of  those  branches  was  taught  in  the  upper  classes  at 
our  best  academies.  The  same  may  be  said  of  all  the  branches  of  natural  sci 
ence,  such  as  chemistry,  zoology,  and  botany,  which  have  been  so  well  unfolded 
to  you  at  the  High  School  during  the  last  two  years,  partly  in  the  stated  routine 
of  instruction,  and  partly  in  the  admirable  lectures  kindly  given  to  you  by 
Professor  Agassiz.  There  was  no  philosophical  or  scientific  apparatus  furnished 
at  the  schools  in  my  day,  with  the  exception,  as  I  remember,  in  a  single  in 
stance,  of  a  rickety  gimcrack  that  was  called  a  planetarium,  and  showed  how 
the  heavenly  bodies  do  -not  move.  As  for  a  school  library,  with  which,  my 
young  friends,  you  are-  so  well  provided,  there  was  not  in  any  school  I  ever 
attended  so  much  as  half  a  dozen  books  bearing  that  name.  There  was  indeed 
at  the  academy  at  Exeter,  which  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  attend  for  a  few 
months  before  I  entered  college,  a  library,  containing,  I  believe,  some  valuable, 
though  probably  rather  antiquated  volumes.  It  was  my  privilege,  while  I  was 
a  pupil,  never  to  see  the  inside  of  that  apartment  ;  privilege,  1  say,  sir,  for  it 
was  the  place  where  the  severer  discipline  of  the  institution,  in  rare  cases  of 
need,  was  administered. 

Ilinc  cxaudiri  gemitus,  et  szeva  sonare 
Yerbera. 

We,  little  fellows,  sir,  got  to  have  the  most  disagreeable  associations  with  the 
very  name  of  library.  I  ought  to  add,  in  justice  to  our  honored  preceptor, 
good  Dr.  Abbott,  that  the  use  of  the  library  for  any  such  purpose  was  a  very 
rare  occurrence.  He  possessed  the  happy  skill,  Mr.  Smith,  which  I  urn  grat 
ified  to  say  has  not  died  with  him,  of  governing  a  school  by  persuasion  and 
influence,  and  not  by  force  and  terror. 

As  to  the  learned  languages  and  classical  literature  generally,  they  were 
very  poorly  taught  in  those  days.  I  do  not  like  to  speak  disparagingly  of  men 
and  things  gone  by.  The  defects  were  at  least  vitia  eevi  non  hominum,  but 
defects  they  were  of  the  grossest  kind.  The  study  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  was 
confined  to  cursory  reading  of  the  easier  authors  ;  a  little  construing  and  pars 
ing,  aa  we  called  it.  The  idiom  and  genius  of  the  languages  were  not  unfolded  to 
us  ;  nor  the  manner  of  the  different  writers  ;  nor  the  various  illustrative  learn 
ing  necessary  to  render  the  text  which  was  read,  intelligible.  We  got  the  lesson 


350  EDWARD    EVERETT. 

to  recite,  and  that  was  all.  Of  Prosody,  we  were  taught  little  ;  of  versification 
nothing.  I  was  never  set  to  make  an  hexameter  or  a  pentameter  verse  at  any 
ecbool,  or,  I  may  add,  college,  in  my  life  ;  nor  did  I  ever  do  it,  till  I  was  old 
enough  to  have  children  at  school,  who  asked  my  assistance. 

As  for  text-books  and  editions,  they  were  all  foreign,  and,  I  may  add,  com 
pared  with  those  of  the  present  day,  both  native  and  foreign,  all  poor.  Mas 
ter  Cheever's  Accidence,  Corderius,  and  Eutropius,  with  an  English  translation 
in  parallel  columns,  were  the  books  with  which  the  study  of  Latin  was  com 
menced  half  a  century  ago. 

Such  were  the  schools  ;  and  the  school-houses  were  in  keeping  with  them  ; 
for  the  most  part  cheerless  and  uninviting  in  the  extreme  ;  cold  in  winter,  hot 
in  summer,  without  ventilation,  destitute  of  everything  required  for  accommo 
dation,  comfort,  or  health. 

VACATION. 

But  it  is  fully  time  to  close  these  remarks  ;  let  me  do  it  with  a  single  word 
of  counsel  to  our  young  friends,  who  are  still  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  this 
institution,  —  a  bit  of  advice  suggested  by  one  of  the  laws  of  our  nature.  The 
force  of  habit  is  very  great.  I  remember  hearing  an  anecdote  of  one  of  the 
members  of  the  Massachusetts  Convention  of  1820,  who  was  so  regular  in  his 
daily  attendance,  that  he  went  up  to  the  State-house  the  day  after  the  conven 
tion  was  dissolved,  and  wondered  his  colleagues  did  not  appear.  Now,  I  hardly 
suppose  any  of  you  will  actually  go  down  to  the  school-house  in  vacation,  but 
if  you  should  be  tempted  to  continue  in  the  holidays  your  habit  of  studying 
six,  eight,  or  ten  hours  a  day,  as  you  do  in  term-time,  let  me  caution  you 
against  it.  Such  uninterrupted  exertion  all  the  year  round  will  not  be  good 
for  your  health.  Give  yourselves  a  little  repose  as  a  matter  of  duty.  If  your 
parents  propose  to  you  some  little  excursion,  do  not  churlishly  refuse.  Take  the 
times  and  seasons  as  they  come  along,  enjoy  term-time  as  much  as  you  please, 
but  do  not  murmur  at  vacation.  Make  it  a  season  of  relaxation,  and,  if  possi 
ble,  of  pleasure,  in  order  that,  when  it  is  over,  you  may  rush  back  to  your 
duties  with  a  keener  zest.  With  this  parting  counsel,  I  bid  you,  my  young 
friends,  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  tender  to  you,  Mr.  Smith,  and  you,  gen 
tlemen  of  the  committee,  my  best  wishes  for  the  continued  prosperity  of  the 
Cambridge  High  School. 

[These  historical  reminiscences  are  selected  from  different  addresses 
made  by  Mr.  Everett  when  President  of  the  University  at  Cambridge, 
at  the  annual  exhibition  of  the  High  School  in  that  town,  and  from 
other  addresses  made  at  the  Boston  School  Festival,  and  at  one  of 
the  meetings  of  the  alumni  of  Harvard  College.  The  passages  on  the 
"  Conditions  of  a  Good  School,"  and  on  *«  Vacation,"  are  also  taken 
from  the  addresses  at  the  Cambridge  High  School.] 

POPULAR    EDUCATION    AND   SOUND   SCIENCE.* 

But  it  is  more  than  time  to  proceed  to  the  second  point,  which  I  proposed 
briefly  to  illustrate,  —  the  favorable  influence  of  the  extension  of  the  means  of 
education,  and  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  on  the  progress  of  sound  science.  It 
is  a  pretty  common  suggestion,  that  while  the  more  abundant  means  of  popu 
lar  education,  existing  at  the  present  day,  may  have  occasioned  the  diffusion  of 
a  considerable  amount  of  superficial  knowledge,  the  effect  has  been  unfavorable 
to  the  growth  of  profound  science.  I  am  inclined  to  think  this  view  of  the 
subject  entirely  erroneous,  — an  inference  by  no  means  warranted  by  the  prem 
ises  from  which  it  is  drawn.  It  is  no  doubt  true,  that,  in  consequence  of  the 
increased  facilities  for  education,  the  number  of  students  of  all  descriptions, 
both  readers  and  writers,  is  almost  indefinitely  multiplied,  and  with  this  in- 

*  From  an  address  delivered  before  the  literary  societies  of  Amherst  College,  Aug.  25,  1835. 


EDWARD   EVERETT.  351 

crease  in  the  entire  number  of  persons  who  have  enjoyed,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  advantages  for  improving  their  minds,  the  number  of  half-taught  and 
superficial  pretenders  has  become  proportionably  greater.  Education,  which, 
at  some  periods  of  the  world,  has  been  a  very  rare  accomplishment  of  a  highly 
gifted  and  fortunate  few,  —  at  other  times,  an  attainment  attended  with  consid 
erable  difficulty,  and  almost  confined  to  professed  scholars,  —  has  become,  in  this 
country  at  least,  one  of  the  public  birthrights  of  freemen,  and,  like  every  other 
birthright,  is  subject  to  be  abused.  In  this  state  of  things,  those  who  habitu 
ally  look  at  the  dark  side  of  affairs,  —  often  witnessing  the  arrogant  displays  of 
superficial  learning,  books  of  great  pretension  and  little  value,  multiplied 
and  circulated,  by  all  the  arts  and  machinery  of  an  enterprising  and  prosper 
ous  age,  and  in  all  things  much  forwardness  and  show,  often  unaccompanied 
by  worth  and  substance, —  are  apt  to  infer  a  decline  of  sound  learning,  and  look 
back,  with  a  sigh,  to  what  they  imagine  to  have  been  the  more  solid  erudition 
of  former  days.  But  I  deem  this  opinion  without  real  foundation  in  truth. 

It  is  an  age,  I  grant,  of  cheap  fame.  A  sort  of  literary  machinery  exists, 
of  which  the  patent  paper-mill,  the  power-press,  the  newspapers,  magazines 
and  reviews,  the  reading  clubs  and  circulating  libraries,  are  some  of  the  prin 
cipal  springs  and  levers,  by  means  of  which  almost  anything,  in  the  shape  of 
a  book,  is  thrown  into  a  sort  of  notoriety,  miscalled  reputation.  The  weakest 
distillation  of  soft  sentiment  from  the  poet's  corner  flows  round  a  larger  circle 
of  admirers  than  Paradise  Lost,  .when  first  ushered  to  the  world  ;  and  the 
most  narcotic  infliction  of  the  quarterly  critical  press  (absit  invidia  verbo)  no 
doubt  far  excels  the  Novum  Oryanum  in  the  number  of  its  contemporary 
readers.  But  nothing  is  to  be  inferred,  from  this  state  of  things,  in  disparage 
ment  of  the  learning  and  scholarship  of  the  age.  All  that  it  proves  is,  that 
with  a  vast  diffusion  of  useful  knowledge,  —  with  an  astonishing  multiplication 
of  the  means  of  education,  and,  as  I  firmly  believe,  with  a  prodigious  growth 
of  true  science,  there  has  sprung  up,  by  natural  association,  a  host  of  triflers 
and  pretenders,  like  a  growth  of  rank  weeds,  with  a  rich  crop,  on  a  fertile  soil. 

But  there  were  surely  always  pretenders  in  science  and  literature,  in  every 
age  of  the  world  ;  nor  must  we  suppose,  because  their  works  and  their  names 
have  perished,  that  they  existed  in  a  smaller  proportion  formerly  than  now. 
Solomon  intimates  a  complaint  of  the  number  of  books  in  his  day,  which  he 
probably  would  not  have  done,  if  they  had  been  all  good  books.  The  sophists 
in  Greece  were  sworn  pretenders  and  dealers  in  words,  —  the  most  completely 
organized  body  of  learned  quacks  that  ever  existed.  Bavius  and  Maevius  were 
certainly  not  the  only  worthless  poets  in  Rome  ;  and  from  the  age  of  the  gram 
marians  and  critics  of  the  Alexandrian  school,  through  that  of  the  monkish 
chroniclers  and  the  schoolmen  of  the  middle  ages,  and  the  mystics  of  the  six 
teenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  the  kingdom  of  learned  dulness  and  empty 
profession  has  been  kept  up,  under  an  unbroken  succession  of  leaden  or  brazen 
potentates.  If  the  subjects  at  the  present  day  seem  more  numerous  than  for 
merly,  it  is  only  in  proportion  to  the  increase  in  the  entire  numbers  of  the  read 
ing  and  writing  world  ;  and  because  the  sagacious  hand  of  time  brushes  away 
the  false  pretensions  of  former  days,  leaving  real  talent  and  sound  learning  the 
more  conspicuous  for  standing  alone. 

But,  as  in  elder  days,  notwithstanding  this  unbroken  sway  of  false  lore  and 
vain  philosophy,  the  line  of  the  truly  wise  and  soundly  learned  was  also  pre 
served  entire  ;  as  the  lights  of  the  world  have  in  all  former  ages  successively 
risen,  illuminating  the  deep  darkness,  and  outshining  the  delusive  meteors  ;  so, 
at  the  present  day,  I  am  firmty  convinced  that  there  is  more  patient  learning, 
true  philosophy,  fruitful  science,  and  various  knowledge,  than  at  any  former 
time.  By  the  side  of  the  hosts  of  superficial,  arrogant,  and  often  unprincipled 
pretenders,  in  every  department,  there  is  a  multitude  innumerable  of  the 
devoted  lovers  of  truth,  whom  no  labor  can  exhaust,  no  obstacles  can  discour 
age,  no  height  of  attainment  dazzle  ;  and  who,  in  every  branch  of  knowledge, 
sacred  and  profane,  moral,  physical,  exact,  and  critical,  have  carried  and  are 
carrying  the  glorious  banner  of  true  science  into  regions  of  investigation 
wholly  unexplored  in  elder  times.  Let  me  not  be  mistaken.  I  mean  not  arro 
gantly  to  detract  from  the  fame  of  the  few  great  masters  of  the  mind,  —  the 
gifted  few,  who,  from  age  to  age,  after  long  centuries  have  intervened,  have 
appeared  ;  and  have  risen,  as  all  are  ready  to  allow,  above  all  rivalry.  After- 


352  EDWARD   EYE11ETT. 

time  alone  can  pronounce  whether  this  nge  has  produced  minds  worthy  to  bo 
classed  in  their  select  circle.  But  this  aside,  —  I  cannot  comprehend  the  phi 
losophy  by  which  we  assume  as  probable,  nor  do  I  see  the  state  of  facts  by 
which  we  must  admit  as  actually  existing,  an  intellectual  degeneracy  at  the 
present  day,  either  in  Europe  or  in  this  country.  I  see  not  why  the  multiplica 
tion  of  popular  guides  to  partial  attainments,  —  why  the  facilities,  that  abound 
for  the  acquisition  of  superficial  scholarship,  should,  in  the  natural  operation 
of  things,  either  diminish  the  number  of  powerful  and  original  minds,  or  sat 
isfy  their  ardent  thirst  for  acquisition,  by  a  limited  progress.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  many  of  these  improvements  in  the  methods  of  learning,  —  many 
of  the  aids  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  which  are  the  product  of  the  pres 
ent  time,  are,  in  their  very  nature,  calculated  to  help  the  early  studies  even  of 
minds  of  the  highest  order.  It  is  a  familiar  anecdote  of  James  Otis,  that, 
when  he  first  obtained  a  copy  of  Blackstone's  Commentaries,  he  observed  with 
emphasis,  that  if  he  had  possessed  that  book  when  commencing  his  studies  of 
the  law,  it  would  have  saved  him  seven  years'  labor.  Would  those  seven  years 
have  borne  no  fruit  to  a  mind  like  that  of  James  Otis?  Though  the  use  of  ele 
mentary  treatises  of  this  kind  may  have  the  effect  to  make  many  superficial 
jurists,  who  would  otherwise  have  been  no  jurists  at  all,  I  deem  it  mere  popu 
lar  prejudice  to  suppose  that  the  march  of  original  genius  to  the  heights  of 
learning  has  been  impeded  by  the  possession  of  these  modern  facilities  to  aid 
its  progress.  To  maintain  this  seems  to  be  little  else  than  to  condemn  as  worth 
less  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  which  have  gone'before  us.  It  is  surely  absurd  to 
suppose  that  we  can  do  no  more  with  the  assistance  of  our  predecessors,  than 
without  it  ;  that  the  teachings  of  one  generation,  instead  of  enlightening,  con- 
fuund  and  stupefy  that  which  succeeds  ;  and  that  "  when  we  stand  on  the 
shoulders  of  our  ancestors,  we  cannot  see  so  far  as  from  the  ground."  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  happiest  laws  of  intellectual  progress, 
that  the  judicious  labors,  the  profound  reasonings,  the  sublime  discoveries,  the 
generous  sentiments  of  great  intellects,  rapidly  work  their  way  into  the  com 
mon  channel  of  public  opinion,  find  access  to  the  general  mind,  raise  the  uni 
versal  standard  of  attainment,  correct  popular  errors,  promote  arts  of  daily 
application,  and  come  home  at  last  to  the  fireside,  in  the  shape  of  increased 
intelligence,  skill,  comfort  and  virtue  ;  which,  in  their  turn,  by  an  instantane 
ous  reaction,  multiply  the  numbers  and  facilitate  the  efforts  of  those  who 
engage  in  the  further  investigation  and  discovery  of  truth.  In  this  way,  a 
constant  circulation,  like  that  of  the  life-blood,  takes  place  in  the  intellectual 
world.  Truth  travels  down  from  the  heights  of  philosophy  to  the  humblest 
walks  of  life,  and  up  from  the  simplest  perceptions  of  an  awakened  intellect  to 
the  discoveries  which  almost  change  the  face  of  the  world.  At  every  stage  of 
its  progress  it  is  genial,  luminous,  creative.  When  first  struck  out  by  some 
distinguished  and  fortunate  genius,  it  may  address  itself  only  to  a  few  minds 
of  kindred  power.  It  exists  then  only  in  the  highest  forms  of  science  ;  it  cor 
rects  former  systems,  and  authorizes  new  generalizations.  Discussion,  contro 
versy  begins  ;  more  truth  is  elicited,  more  errors  exploded,  more  doubts  cleared 
up,  more  phenomena  drawn  into  the  circle,  unexpected  connections  of  kindred 
sciences  are  traced,  and  in  eich  step  of  the  progress,  the  number  rapidly  grows 
of  those  who  are  prepared  to  comprehend  and  carry  on  some  branches  of  the 
investigation,  —  till,  in  the  lapse  of  time,  every  order  of  intellect  has  been  kin 
dled,  from  that  of  the  sublime  discoverer  to  the  practical  machinist  ;  and  every 
department  of  knowledge  l>een  enlarged,  from  the  most  abstruse  and  transcen 
dental  theory  to  the  daily  arts  of  life. 

TIIK    msril'I.IXE    OF    A    COLLEGE.* 

It  is  earnestly  desired  by  the  Government  and  Faculty  of  the  University,  that 
the  students  may  be  influenced  to  good  conduct  ami  diligence  in  study  by 
higher  motives  than  the  fear  of  punishment  ;  aud  they  mainly  rely,  for  the  suc- 
cess  of  the  institution  ns  a  place  of  literal  education,  on  moral  and  religious 
principle,  a  sense  of  duty,  and  the  generous  feelings  which  belong  to  young 
men  engaged  in  honorable  pursuits. 

*  ThU  pusHage  introduces  the  chapter  on  "  Discipline  "  in  "The  Statutes  and  Laws  of  the  Uni 
versity  at  Cambridge."  1548. 


EDWARD   EVERETT.  353 

MORAL   EDUCATION   AND   INTELLECTUAL.* 

But  moral  education  is  much  too  important  an  object  to  be  left  to  follow  as 
an  incidental  effect  from  mere  literary  culture.  It  should  be  deemed  the  dis 
tinct  duty  of  a  place  of  education  to  form  the  young  to  those  habits  and  quali 
ties  which  win  regard  and  command  respect, — gentleness  of  deportment, — 
propriety  of  conduct, — the  moral  courage  *'  that  will  make  them  hate  the 
coAvardice  of  doing  wrong,"  —  willing  obedience  to  the  laws  of  virtue,  —  and  a 
profound  reverence  for  sacred  things  ;  and  of  these  traits  of  character,  I  knovr 
of  no  reliable  foundation  but  sincere  and  fervent  religious  faith,  founded  on 
conviction,  enlightened  by  reason,  and  nourished  by  the  devout  observance  of 
those  me-ins  of  spiritual  improvement  which  Christianity  provides.  In  the 
faithful  performance  of  this  duty,  I  believe  that  a  place  of  education,  whether 
in  Europe  or  America,  renders  at  the  present  day  a  higher  and  more  season 
able  service  to  society,  than  by  anything  that  ends  in  mere  scientific  or  liter 
ary  culture.  The  understanding  in  every  department  of  speculative  or  prac 
tical  knowledge  has  advanced  of  late  years  with  a  vigor  and  success  beyond 
what  the  world  has  witnessed  at  any  other  period  ;  but  I  cannot  suppress  a 
painful  impression  that  this  intellectual  improvement  has  not  exerted,  and  is 
not  exerting,  its  natural  influence  in  purifying  the  moral  character  of  the  age. 
I  cannot  subdue  the  feeling  that  our  modern  Christendom,  with  all  its  profes 
sions  and  in  all  its  communions,  is  sinking  into  a  practical  heathenism,  which 
needs  a  great  work — I  had  almost  said  a  new  dispensation  —  of  reform, 
scarcely  less  than  the  decrepit  paganisms  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Christians  as 
we  are,  we  worship,  in  America  and  in  Europe,  in  the  city  and  the  field,  on  the 
exchange  and  in  the  senate,  and  must  I  not  add  in  the  academy  and  the  church, 
some  gods  as  bad  as  those  of  the  Pantheon.  In  individual  and  national 
earnestness,  in  true  moral  heroism,  and  in  enlightened  spirituality  unalloyed 
by  mysticism,  the  age  in  which  we  live  is  making,  I  fear,  little  progress  ;  but 
rather,  perhaps,  with  all  its  splendid  attainments  in  science  and  art,  is  plung 
ing  deeper  into  the  sordid  worship  of 

"  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 

From  heaven,  for  even  in  heaven  his  looks  and  thoughts 
Were  always  downward  bent,  admiring  more 
The  riches  of  heaven's  pavement,  —  trodden  gold,  — 
Than  aught  divine  or  holy  else  enjoyed 
In  vision  beatific." 

It  may  be  feared  that  a  defect  of  this  kind,  if  truly  stated  and  sufficiently  gen 
eral  to  mark  the  character  of  an  age,  will  prove  too  strong  for  any  corrective 
influences  but  those  of  public  calamity,  and  what  are  called,  in  our  expressive 
national  phrase,  *'  the  times  that  try  men's  souls."  But  I  have  long  thought, 
that  if,  in  a  period  of  prosperity  and  by  gentle  influences,  anything  can  be 
effected  toward  the  same  end,  the  work  must  be  begun  in  our  seminaries  of  lib 
eral  education,  and  that  they  have  a  duty  to  perform,  in  this  respect,  which  can 
not  be  too  strongly  urged  nor  too  deeply  felt. 

How  it  should  be  discharged,  it  would  be  at  once  unseasonable  and  arrogant 
to  endeavor  on  this  occasion  minutely  to  set  forth.  All,  however,  who  hear  me 
will  agree,  —  every  parent,  every  good  citizen,  will  agree,  —  that  the  object 
itself,  the  formation  of  character  on  Christian  principles,  is  that  last  great 
object  of  a  place  of  education,  to  which  all  else  is  subordinate  and  auxiliary. 
For  this  reason,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  intrusted  with  the  control  of  such  an  insti 
tution  to  conduct  it  conscientiously,  as  an  instrument  of  mighty  efficiency  for 
good  or  for  evil.  The  branches  of  study,  the  influences  under  which  they  are 
pursued,  and  the  whole  discipline  of  the  place,  ehould  be,  as  far  as  human  wis 
dom  can  make  them  so,  such  as  are  most  friendly  to  sound  moral  principles, 
and  they  should  be  conducted  by  men  whose  heart  is  in  the  work,  and  whose 
example  teaches  more  and  better  than  their  precept. 

To  all  that  can  be  thus  effected  by  indirect  association  and  influence  should 
be  added  that  kind  and  degree  of  direct  religious  instruction  which  oireuin- 

*  From  the  address  delivered  by  Mr.  Everett  at  his  inauguration,  as  president  of  the  Uuiwt- 
Bity  at  Cambridge,  Thursday,  April  30,  1846. 

23 


354  FREDERICK  A   P.  BARNARD. 

The  "Letter"  which  President  Barnard  addressed  to  the  board  of 
trustees  of  the  University  of  Mississippi,  in  1858,  is  so  full  of  sugges 
tions  of  the  highest  practical  importance  to  the  efficiency  and  fuller 
development  of  our  American  collegiate  and  university  system,  that 
we  must  enrich  our  pages  with  a  few  extracts. 

In  this,  as  in  his  former  publications  on  the  subject,  the  writer 
claims  that  the  expansion  of  the  range  of  studies,  without  extending 
the  time  in  which  these  studies  are  to  be  pursued,  has  impaired  the 
efficiency  of  the  system,  in  its  original  and  legitimate  aim — the  dis 
cipline  and  training  of  the  intellectual  powers — without  giving  to  the 
students  a  thorough  mastery  of  any  one  of  the  many  new  subjects 
introduced.  This  evil  he  attributes,  not  to  the  inefficiency  of  the 
professors,  or  to  their  defective  methods  of  instruction,  but  to  the 
system  itself. 

The  evil  has  been  the  growth  of  years.  It  has  accumulated  by  degrees  almost 
imperceptible.  Kaeh  successive  addition  has  probably  seemed  inconsiderable  to 
those  who  made  it,  but  the  united  sum  has  become  intolerable.  Could  it,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  have  been  possible  that  a  proposition  should  at  any  one  time 
have  been  made  for  a  sudden  change  from  the  system,  as  it  existed  a  century  ago, 
to  the  system  of  to-day,  it  is  inconceivable  that  it  should  have  been  entertained 
by  enlightened  educators  for  a  moment. 

To  relieve  the  course  of  under-graduate  study  in  our  colleges  of 
some  part  of  its  excessive  burthen,  and  at  the  same  time  to  meet  the 
demands  of  the  age  for  instruction  in  the  studies  which  have  been 
introduced,  President  Barnard  proposes  to  divide  the  studies  into 
distinct  and  separate  courses — a  sub-graduate  and  a  post-graduate 
department. 

The  sub-graduate  course  may  be  defined  by  the  very  simple  process  of  exclud 
ing  from  the  curriculum  of  study,  as  it  stands  at  present,  all  those  branches  of  sci 
ence  which  are  confessedly  modern  additions,  and,  along  with  these,  the  modern 
languages.  This  course  will,  therefore,  as  reconstructed,  embrace  the  English, 
Latin,  and  Greek  languages,  all  the  elementary  branches  of  the  pure  mathemat 
ics,  the  mechanical  branches  of  natural  philosophy,  logic,  rhetoric,  the  principles 
of  criticism,  moral  and  mental  philosophy,  composition,  and  elocution.  These 
several  branches  of  study  are  to  be  pursued  to  something  like  the  extent,  and 
with  something  like  the  thoroughness,  contemplated  in  the  earlier  period  of  the 
history  of  our  collegiate  instruction.  To  these  it  may  not  be  thought  improper 
to  add,  during  the  concluding  year,  succinct  expository  courses  in  chemistry  and 
the  subjects  of  natural  philosophy,  not  strictly  mechanical;  these  topics  being 
taught  avowedly  in  outline  only,  and  not  as  matters  to  be  embraced  in  the  exam 
ination  for  the  Bachelor's  degree. 

To  the  post-graduate  department,  may  be  turned  over  those  branches  of  science 
and  letters  which  are  excluded  from  the  former,  and  which  are  confessedly,  at 
present,  but  imperfectly  taught;  and  the  number  of  these  may,  from  time  to  time, 
be  increased,  by  adding  new  ones,  as  the  wants  of  the  public  and  the  growing 
resources  of  the  university  may  demand  or  justify.  Thus  it  may  immediately 
include  astronomy,  geology,  mineralogy,  chemistry,  natural  philosophy,  meteor 
ology,  civil  engineering,  the  higher  branches  of  the  pure  mathematics,  Greek  and 
IRonian  letters,  the  modern  UogMgM  and  their  literature,  political  economy, 
international  law,  constitutional  law,  and  the  history  of  philosophy;  but  it  proba 
bly  tot'//  include,  at  first,  only  such  of  this  list  as  are  mort  practical  in  their  nature. 
As,  in  creating  this  department,  the  design  should  l>e,  from  the  beginning,  to  build 


FREDERICK  A.  P.  BARNARD.  355 

up  here  .ultimately  a  university  in  the  largest  acceptation  of  that  term,  it  is  to  bo 
expected  that,  in  the  progress  of  years,  schools  of  agriculture,  of  natural  history, 
of  medical  science,  of  civil  and  political  history,  &c.,  &c. 

The  post-graduate  department  is  to  be  open  to  all  who  may  wish 
to  go  thoroughly  to  the  bottom  of  any  subject  which  the  university 
proposes  to  teach,  and  for  which  he  has  prepared  himself  in  school, 
or  by  private  study ;  but  the  master's  degree  is  not  to  be  conferred 
upon  any  one  who  has  not  graduated  as  Bachelor  of  Arts,  in  this  or 
some  other  college.  When  students  of  mature  minds  resort,  of  their 
own  option,  to  a  school  of  higher  learning,  like  that  contemplated,  it 
is  presumed  they  will  be  in  earnest  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge. 

The  above  assumption  can  not  safely  be  made  of  the  body  of  the  under-gradu- 
ates  of  our  colleges.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  find  reasons  for  a  fact  of  so  general 
observation.  One  of  these  is,  doubtless,  the  immaturity  of  the  youthful  student 
himself  5  in  consequence  of  which,  he  is  yet  to  learn  both  the  importance  of  mental 
culture,  and  the  value  of  positive  knowledge.  Another  is  presented  in  the  cir 
cumstance  that  the  under-graduate  student  is  not  always,  perhaps  not  usually,  a 
member  of  an  institution  of  learning,  entirely  of  his  own  voluntary  choice ;  but 
that  he  has  become  such,  in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  his  parents  and 
friends ;  often  with  no  other  feeling  on  his  own  part  than  a  desire  to  make  his 
college  life  pass  away  as  agreeably  as  circumstances  will  allow  ;  a  desire  which 
does  not  always  prompt  him  to  seek  for  enjoyment  by  the  most  rational  means. 

In  the  higher  department,  or  post-graduate  course,  of  the  univers 
ity,  President  Barnard  proposes  to  employ  the  plan  of  daily  recita 
tion  only  to  a  limited  extent,  and  to  resort  mainly  to  oral  exposition 
on  the  part  of  the  teacher. 

According  to  Sir  William  Hamilton,  all  instruction  was  originally  given,  in  the 
universities  of  England,  as  it  continues  to  be  in  the  continental  universities,  by  lec 
ture.  The  colleges  and  halls,  which  now  monopolize  the  principal  work  of  teach 
ing  in  those  venerable  institutions,  were  erected  to  provide  for  the  physical  wants 
of  the  students,  and  to  secure  a  vigilant  supervision  over  their  morals.  The  of 
ficers,  called  tutors,  employed  by  the  colleges  for  the  latter  purpose,  gradually  took 
upon  themselves  the  character  of  instructors,  by  exacting  from  the  youth  under 
their  charge,  a  repetition  of  what  they  had  learned  in  the  public  lecture-halls. 
To  this  kind  of  recitation,  they  subsequently  added  recitation  from  books.  The 
evident  design  of  the  exercise,  in  its  origin,  was  that  in  which  we  find  its  chief 
utility  at  present — to  insure  the  attention  of  the  pupil  to  the  subject  which  he  is 
required  to  know.  The  distinctive  name  given  by  the  French,  to  the  officer  whose 
duty  it  is  merely  to  hear  recitations,  makes  it  sufficiently  evident  what  idea  is  as 
sociated  with  the  exercise  by  them.  This  name — repetiteur — suggests  to  the 
mind  the  bare  repetition  of  a  task,  as  that  which  it  is  the  business  of  the  officer 
to  secure.  *  *  * 

All  that  Melancthon  has  said,  all  that  Hamilton  has  said,  all  that  any  pane 
gyrist  of  the  system  of  daily  examination,  as  a  means  of  instruction,  has  said,  in 
regard  to  the  incidental  advantages  growing  out  of  the  method,  is  admitted  with 
out  any  hesitation.  It  stimulates  emulation,  it  cultivates  self-possession,  it  encour 
ages  or  enforces  precision  of  speech,  it  abates  conceit,  it  convinces  of  deficiency. 
But  all  these  resultant  benefits  presume  the  immaturity  of  the  learner;  and  most 
of  them  presume,  furthermore,  that  an  unceasing  constraint  is  necessary  to  com 
pel  him  to  profit  by  the  instructions  he  receives.  *  *  * 

It  will  be  conceded  that,  considered  as  an  instructive,  and  not  as  a  coercive 
method,  the  system  of  daily  examination  is  attended  with  some  incidental  advan 
tages,  besides  those  which  have  just  been  enumerated.  It  is  a  possibility  that  a 
student,  who  lias  failed  to  comprehend  some  point  embraced  in  the  text  of  his  les 
son,  may  be  enlightened,  by  listening  to  the  performance  of  a  fellow-student.  It 


350  FREDERICK  A.  P.  BARNARD. 

is  also  a  possibility,  or  rather  a  fact  of  frequent  occurrence,  that  the  imperfect  per 
formance  of  an  individual  scholar,  may  indicate  to  the  instructor  the  deficiencies 
of  that  individual,  and  so  elicit  explanatory  comments  or  illustrations.  It  is  fur 
ther  true,  that  the  instructor  may  volunteer  explanations  and  elucidations  of 
points  of  difficulty,  even  though  occasion  may  not  arise  to  force  their  introduction. 

An  acute  instructor,  moreover,  by  the  ingenious  selection  of  interrogatories, 
will  bring  out  the  weak  points  of  a  pupil,  as  a  lawyer  does  those  of  a  witness ;  or  will 
bring  into  prominent  relief  the  points  of  the  subjects  under  consideration,  which  are 
of  highest  importance.  Uut,  beyond  this,  it  is  certainly  true,  that  it  is  only  in  so  far 
as,  for  whatever  reason,  the  instructor  does  actually  superadd  his  own  teachings 
to  the  text  of  the  lesson,  that  any  talents  or  attainments,  which  may  belong  to 
him  personally,  can  be  of  any  sort  of  use  to  his  pupils.  For  all  the  purposes  of 
mere  recitation,  any  man,  who  is  capable  of  understanding  what  the  pupil  says, 
and  of  reading  the  book  or  books  from  which  he  has  learned  it,  so  as  to  compare 
the  performance  with  the  text,  is  as  good  and  as  capable  a  presiding  officer  and 
examiner  in  a  class-room,  as  any  other.  The  teacher,  therefore,  who  meets  his 
classes  for  no  purjxjse  at  any  time  but  to  u  hear  their  recitations,"  is  not  really  a 
teacher,  except  in  so  far  as  he  ingrafts  upon  this  exercise  the  expository  feature 
which  is  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  plan  of  instruction  by  lecture.  To 
do  this,  however,  to  any  extent,  in  the  recitation-room,  without  seriously  interfer 
ing  with  the  specific  design  for  which  the  exercise  of  recitation  was  primarily  in 
stituted,  is  proved  by  experience  to  be  impracticable.  Class  recitations  have,  at 
best,  the  great  disad vantage,  that  either  but  few  out  of  a  large  number  can  per 
form  at  all,  or  that  each  one  who  performs  shall  be  under  examination  for  so  brief 
a  space  of  time  as  nearly  to  defeat  every  useful  object,  and  to  render  the  exercise 
little  better  than  an  idle  form. 

Another  serious  vice  of  the  system,  is  its  pernicious  influence  on  the  teacher. 
To  whatever  degree  it  may  be  coercive  to  the  student,  it  is  not  in  the  least  so  to 
him.  It  stimulates  him  to  no  self-improvement,  and  awakens  in  him  no  ambition 
for  higher  attainments,  on  the  one  hand  ;  and  it  affords  him  no  adequate  field  for 
the  display  of  genius,  or  for  the  turning  of  accumulated  knowledge  to  use,  on  the 
other.  Instead  of  this,  the  opportunity  which  it  offers  him  of  sinking,  without 
observation,  into  a  mere  cipher,  is  a  real,  a  perpetual,  and  a  most  insidious  tempta 
tion  to  sloth.  The  difficulty  of  employing,  in  the  recitation  room,  the  expository 
mode  of  instruction,  without  overreaching  too  far  upon  the  exercise  proper  to  the 
hour,  is  enough,  in  itself,  to  repress  in  the  teacher  the  teaching  spirit,  and  to 
cause  him  constantly  to  tend  to  the  level  of  the  mere  repetilcvr.  How  danger 
ously  is  this  tendency  increased,  by  the  fact  that  its  downward  direction  coincides 
precisely  with  that  in  which  the  native  love  of  ease  is  perpetually  dragging  all  man 
kind  !  For  this  great  evil,  there  is  but  one  antagonistic  influence,  which  can  bo 
of  any  avail :  it  is  that  of  a  living,  fervent,  zeal  in  his  work,  existing  in  the  in 
structor  himself;  a  zeal,  not  in  the  work  of  conducting  recitations,  as  the  remark 
might  seem  to  imply,  but  which  would  be  ridiculous — a  zeal,  rather,  in  the  higher 
and  nobler  work  of  training  immortal  minds  to  vigor,  and  capacitating  tin  'in  for 
usefulness.  The  college  officer,  therefore,  of  the  present  day,  whose  interest  in 
his  profession  is  bounded  by  the  fact,  certainly  uninspiring,  however  important  to 
himself,  that  it  secures  to  him  the  means  of  living,  is  in  imminent  danger  of  laps 
ing  into  a  mere  automaton. 

The  advantages  of  oral  teaching  are  thus  set  forth  : — 

According  to  the  plan,  if  the  teacher  possesses  any  knowledge  on  the  subject 
of  sTinly,  which  is  not  contained  in  the  lxx>ks  of  the  course,  or  not  easily  acces 
sible  to  th"  student,  or  if  the  sources  from  which  such  It&owledffe  may  be  ob- 
tained  .are  above  the  present  level  of  the  student's  eapaeity,  this  knowledge  will 
be  brought  out  an.l  made  available.  And  if  he  |...v>,  »  s  any  power  of  clear  anal- 
ysis,  or  of  luminous  illustration;  if  lie  |MISS>-SSCS,  as  he  ought,  in  order  to  occupy 
fitly  a  position  of  this  hi«;h  responsibility,  that  mastery  over  his  theme  which  be 
longs  to  the  man  \vho  has  ens,  ,1  to  think  of  the  truth  which  he  teaches  as  of  a 
something  found  in  b<x»ks,  and  of  which  all  that  he  knows  is  knowledge  gathered 
at  second-hand  ;  but  who  has  independently  interrogated  the  sources  of  informa 
tion  himself,  and  stands  in  immediate  contact  with  nature  and  with  thought,  feel 
ing  no  need  of  an  interpreter — if  this  is  his  own  intellectual  character,  this  the 


FREDERICK  A..  P.  BARNARD.  357 

degree  of  his  intellectual  cultivation,  and  this  the  comprehensive  scope  of  his  ac 
quired  resources — then  his  teachings  will  carry  with  them,  to  the  minds  of  his 
hearers,  a  fullness  of  satisfaction,  and  fasten  themselves  there  with  a  permanency 
of  impression,  such  as  no  amount  of  perusal  of  mere  lifeless  text-books,  written 
down  to  the  level  of  their  immediate  attainments,  no  matter  how  earnestly  attent 
ive,  or  how  conscientiously  faithful  the  perusal  may  be,  can  ever  produce. 

Not  that  from  such  a  system  of  instruction  books  are  to  be  discarded.  By  no 
means.  Not  only  will  the  necessity  of  books  continue  to  be  as  absolutely  impera 
tive,  as  under  any  system  whatever  of  recitation  from  a  text;  but  the  multiplica 
tion  of  books  will  be  an  inevitable  consequence.  For,  while  the  instructor  will  aim 
to  expound  all  that  relates  to  theory  or  doctrine,  he  will  not  embarrass  his  class 
room  with  the  lumber  of  innumerable  applications,  which,  however  useful  they  may 
be,  are  the  proper  labor  of  the  student  himself,  in  his  solitary  study;  neither, in 
regard  to  simple  matters  of  plain  fact,  of  which  a  multitude  are  strewn  along 
the  path  of  every  walk  in  science,  will  he  consider  it  expedient  to  occupy  time 
in  stating,  in  minute  detail,  what  can  be  found  in  every  book,  and  what  needs 
but  to  bo  read  once  to  be  understood.  For  their  necessary  enlightenment  in 
matters  such  as  these,  he  will  refer  his  pupils  to  certain  selected  authors,  of  which 
he  will  designate  the  portions  which  require  their  attention,  with  as  much 
regularity  as  if  they  were  to  be  subjected  to  examination  upon  the  same  passages. 
But  he  will  not  always  confine  himself  to  one  author,  nor  always  give  the  same 
author  prefei-enco ;  for  his  business  is  to  teach  a  subject,  and  not  a  book  ;  and 
books,  therefore,  are  not  his  guides,  but  his  helps.  Nor  will  the  student  find  it 
quite  a  practicable  thing  to  disregard  the  recommendations  thus  made,  or  to  neg 
lect  the  perusal,  or  rather  severe  study,  of  the  books  designated  ;  for  he  will 
shortly  discover  that  this  study  is  indispensable  to  his  understanding  and  properly 
profiting  by  the  instructions  of  his  own  immediate  teacher. 

The  two  salient  merits  of  the  method  of  instruction  here  proposed,  then,  for 
the  class  of  learners  contemplated,  are,  first,  that  it  both  permits  and  compels  the 
teacher  to  be  a  teacher,  and  neither  constrains  nor  allows  him  to  sink  into  inac 
tivity,  nor  to  content  himself  with  presiding  in  empty  state  over  an  exerc'fse  to 
which  he  is  conscious  of  contributing  nothing  valuable  ;  and,  secondly,  that  it 
makes  knowledge  itself,  and  not  the  substance  of  any  treatise  upon  knowledge, 
not  any  artificial  form  into  which  knowledge  has  been  thrown,  the  immediate 
subject  of  teaching. 

To  make  the  plan  of  oral  teaching  more  effective,  President  Bar 
nard  proposes  to  introduce  another  feature,  somewhat  peculiar : — 

This  is  to  afford  to  the  mombers  of  the  class,  pursuing  their  studies  in  any 
school,  the  opportunity,  after  the  instructor  shall  have  completed  the  exposition 
of  the  topic  of  the  day,  to  bring  up  for  re-examination  points  which  still  remain 
to  them  obscure,  or  to  ask  further  information  in  regard  to  matters  which  may  not 
have  been  fully  explained.  This  is,  in  fact,  to  inaugurate  a  species  of  recitation  in 
which  the  student  and  teacher  reverse  the  positions  usual  in  this  exercise.  The 
student  questions  ;  the  teacher  replies.  The  student  should  even  be  permitted, 
if  he  pleases,  in  cases  which  admit  of  argument,  to  take  issue  with  his  instructor, 
and  to  present  his  reasons  for  his  opinions.  Discussion  will  be  advantageous  to 
both  parties,  and  will  keep  more  actively  alive  the  interest  felt  by  the  cla«s  in  the 
subject  of  study. 

But  the  larger  portion  of  the  "Letter"  is  devoted  to  an  elaborate 
effort  to  induce  the  trustees,  by  inaugurating  the  project  of  a  post 
graduate  department,  to  take  a  first  decided  step  in  the  direction  of  a 
higher  development  of  the  educational  system  of  the  state. 

The  character  of  every  school,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  within  our  bord 
ers,  is  to  be  determined  ultimately  by  the  respectability  or  the  inferiority  of  this. 
Though  it  is  true  that  but  a  fraction  of  the  people  will  receive  their  personal  in 
struction  within  the  university  halls,  yet  all,  without  exception,  will  be  partakers 
of  the  benefits  of  which  the  university  is  to  be  the  fountain-head  and  the  central 
source.  If  the  institution  does  not  immediately  teach  the  entire  people,  it  will 


358  FREDERICK  A.  P.  BARNARD. 

teach  their  teachers;  or,  what  is  equivalent  to  this,  it  will  force  every  instructor, 
whom  it  docs  not  itself  instruct,  to  come  up  to  the  standard  it  prescribes,  on 
penalty  of  being  else  driven  from  the  educational  field.  *  *  * 

But  what  is  the  university  of  to-day  ?  What,  but  a  training  school  for  imma 
ture  minds — impaired,  indeed,  in  its  usefulness  for  this  purpose,  by  the  very  at 
tempt  to  accomplish,  along  with  it,  other  and  entirely  incompatible  objects?  If 
the  people  suppose  that  this  is  a  place  to  make  practical  men,  or  learned  men,  or 
profoundly  scientific  men — if  they  suppose  that  it  is  within  the  reach  of  possibility 
for  the  university,  under  the  existing  system,  to  turn  out  accomplished  engineers, 
or  expert  chemists,  or  proficient  astronomers,  or  profound  philosophers,  or  even 
finished  scholars — we  know  very  well  that  they  are  deceived.  Not  that  this  insti 
tution  falls  any  further  short  of  accomplishing  these  ends,  or  fa. Is  any  more  sig 
nally  to  meet  this  popular  impression,  than  other  American  colleges;  but  that  the 
power  to  do  these  things  seems,  by  force  of  a  general  hallucination,  to  be  attribu 
ted  to  colleges  as  a  class,  while,  in  point  of  fact,  it  does  not  actually  exist  in  any 
one  of  the  whole  number.  *  *  * 

The  existence  of  the  want  of  institutions  of  a  higher  than  merely  collegiate 
grade,  as  a  reality,  is  made  evident  by  the  earnest  and  urgent  demand,  spoken  of 
earlier  in  this  communication,  which  has  been,  for  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years,  so 
extensively  heard,  for  something  or  other  which  the  existing  educational  system 
does  not  supply.  This  demand,  so  far  as  it  has  proceeded  from  scholars  and  men 
of  science,  has  taken  the  specific  form  of  a  demand  for  universities  called  by  that 
name;  because  scholars  and  men  of  science  have  been  able  to  perceive  distinctly, 
that  the  university  was  the  precise  thing  needed  to  satisfy  the  want.  But  when 
it  has  come  from  the  people — and  from  the  people  it  has  come  very  steadily,  for  at 
least  a  quarter  of  a  century — it  has  been,  not  for  the  university  by  name,  but  for 
new  schools  of  some  vaguely-conceived  description ;  for  colleges  to  be  broken  up 
and  destroyed  in  all  that  regards  the  province  of  their  past  usefulness,  and  built  up 
anew  upon  some  visionary  plan,  and  according  to  some  impracticable  theory;  for 
schools  of  science,  as  applied  to  the  arts  of  construction,  of  agriculture,  of  manu 
factures,  and  every  thing  useful  to  mankind,  but  chiefly  things  useful  according 
to  that  literal  sense  which  confounds  utility  with  increase  of  wealth  ;  for  schools, 
in  short,  which  should  do  what  the  collegiate  schools  do  not  do,  and  what  we  know 
that  it  is  not  necessary  or  even  proper  that  they  should  do — prepare  men,  so  far  as 
schools  can  prepare  them,  to  take  directly  hold  of  the  real  business  of  life.  No 
one  is  ignorant  that  this  demand  has  existed  for  a  period  at  least  as  long  as  as 
serted  ;  that,  at  times,  it  has  been  vociferous  and  violent ;  or  that,  not  content  with 
insisting  on  the  creation  of  new  schools,  to  accomplish  the  ends  desired,  it  lias 
turned,  occasionally,  almost  in  a  spirit  of  vindictive  destructiveness,  upon  the  old, 
because  they  did  not  accomplish  those  same  ends. 

These  demands,  the  undersigned  ventures  to  assert,  are  evidence  of  the  want 
of  higher  universities.  Not  because  they  ask  for  the  university  ;  not  because  their 
authors,  if  the  university  were  proposed  to  them  as  a  remedy,  would  be  likely  to 
accept  it ;  but  because  the  present  inconvenience,  which  is  so  sensibly  felt,  is  one 
which  the  university  would  remove,  though  those  who  feel  it  do  not  perceive  how. 
And  why  not?  Because  first,  looking  at  universities,  as  they  have  been  in  past 
centuries,  as  the  repositories  of  literary  lore,  as  the  resorts  of  scholars  dealing 
with  abstractions,  as  the  burrowing-places  of  book-worms,  eating  out  the  hearts 
of  the  black-letter  volumes  of  the  sixteenth  century,  or  of  the  manuscripts  of  the 
sixth,  as  the  unchallenged  domain  of  grammarians  and  lexicographers,  of  com 
mentators  upon  Aristotle  and  Longinus,  itn,r-  nious  speculators  upon  the  mysteries 
of  the  digamma,  and  indefatigable  claborators  of  ethical  and  logical  niceties,  they 
picture  them,  in  their  imaginations,  even  to  this  hour,  as  solemn  and  shadowy  re 
treats,  still  smelling  of  the  dust  and  mold  of  antiquity,  where  philology,  linguistic 
philosophy,  and  the  sublimer  metaphysics  brood,  like  the  pensive  owl  in  Gray's 
churchyard  turret,  with  none  to 

"Molest  their  ancient  solitary  reign." 

But  this  conception  is  entirely  erroneous.  The  university,  in  the  sense  in  which 
the  name  is  now  generally  received,  no  matter  what  may  have  been  its  original 
acceptation,  is  Univtrsitas  Scitntiarum;  it  is,  in  other  words,  an  institution  in 
which  the  highest  learning  of  its  day  is  taught  in  every  walk  of  human  knowledge. 


FREDERICK  A.  P.  BARNARD.  359 

When  classic  learning,  philosophy,  and  logic,  were  subjects  of  the  highest  inter 
est  in  human  estimation,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  character  of  university  teach 
ing  should  have  been  principally  determined  by  them.  But,  inasmuch  as,  at  the 
present  day,  physical  science  has  attained  a  position  of  actual  dignity,  immeasur 
ably  higher  than  it  then  enjoyed,  and  as  its  useful  applications  have  become  al 
most  endlessly  more  numerous  and  varied,  the  university  of  to-day  would  fail  to 
be  what  its  name  imports,  if  it  did  not  assign  a  corresponding  prominence  to  these 
subjects — subjects,  bj  it  observed,  which  happen  to  be  the  same  for  which  the 
agitators  we  have  been  speaking  of  demand  that  a  special  provision  of  special  schools 
shall  be  made.  *  *  * 

There  is,  however,  a  second  class  of  agitators,  who,  while  admitting  the  justice  of 
the  foregoing  representation,  are  not  disposed  to  accept  the  university  as  a  remedy  for 
the  inconvenience  they  suftvr,  because,  while  it  gives  them  all  that  they  demand,  it 
gives  them  at  the  same  time  much  more — much  for  which  they  do  not  ask,  and 
for  which  they  do  not  care.  They  fear  so  great  a  project,  as  the  creation  of  an 
institution,  professing,  and  really  preparing  itself,  to  teach  everything  embraced  in 
the  entire  circle  of  human  knowledge.  They  fear  that,  in  attempting  this,  they 
shall  attempt  what  is  beyond  their  means;  and  that,  by  grasping  too  much,  they 
shall  loose  every  thing.  It  is  believed  that  all  this  class  of  persons,  if  they  right 
fully  interpret  our  views,  will  find  that  we  are  entirely  in  accordance  with  them, 
and  they  with  us.  For  rio  such  visionary  scheme  is  entertained  by  any  one  con 
nected  with  this  institution,  as  that  of  creating  here,  in  a  day,  a  university,  com 
plete  in  all  the  many-faced  aspects  of  a  repository  of  universal  truth,  and  a  dis 
penser  of  universal  knowledge.  What  is  aimed  at,  what  is  recommended,  is  only, 
as  already  stated,  to  t;ike  a  first  step  in  the  right  direction — a  step  which  shall, 
indeed,  ultimately  conduct  to  the  fulfillment  of  the  great  idea,  but  which  shall  not 
be  itself  the  fulfillment — a  step  which  will  mark  only  the  beginning  of  a  progress, 
in  which,  advancing  only  as  the  growing  intelligence  and  increasing  wants  of  the 
people  of  the  state  shall  urge  it,  the  University  of  Mississippi  may,  to  the  eyes  of 
a  future  generation,  at  length  present  the  lustrous  spectacle  which  the  comprehen 
sive  idea  of  a  true  university  implies. 

There  is  still  another  class,  whose  views  on  the  subject  under  consideration  can 
not  be  overlooked — a  class  possibly  the  most  numerous  of  all  those  who  concern 
themselves  about  it ;  or,  if  not  the  most  numerous,  at  any  rate,  by  far  the  most 
impracticable.  Those  are  here  indicated  who  deny  the  utility  of  high  learning 
altogether.  They  are,  of  course,  utilitarians  in  the  technical  sense  of  that  word. 
Let  any  thing  tend  to  promote  the  bodily  comfort  of  the  race — let  it  furnish  man 
with  food,  or  keep  him  warm,  or  put  a  barrier  between  him  and  the  weather — 
and  that  is  a  useful  thing.  By  consequence,  therefore,  science  does,  occasionally, 
in  some  of  its  practical  results,  command  their  partial  consideration  ;  but,  for 
science  or  learning  as  a  whole,  a  matter  between  wlrch  and  the  increase  of  wealth 
no  connection  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  is  to  their  minds  obvious,  they 
have  no  respect  whatever.  To  elevate  the  intellectual  man  in  the  scale  of  being, 
to  enable  him  to  form  larger  and  juster  views  than  his  unaided  senses  or  his  indi 
vidual,  casual,  and  unsystematic  observation  has  qualified  him  to  conceive,  of  the 
power  and  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  great  Architect  of  the  universe,  to  intro 
duce  him  to  a  world  of  enjoyments  growing  out  of  the  exercise  of  the  godlike  in 
tellect  upon  subjects  of  beauty,  and  sublimity,  and  deep-seated  and  with  delight 
fully  difficult  effort  laboriously  unraveled  truth — enjoyments  such  as  doubtless  oc 
cupy  cherubic  intelligences,  in  their  rapt  contemplation  of  the  wonderful  works  of 
God — all  this  the  mere  utilitarian  philosopher,  ever  like  the  man  with  the  muck 
rake  in  Bunyan,  looking  downward,  fails  to  comprehend  and  to  appreciate;  and 
all  arguments  addressed  to  him,  founded  upon  the  consideration,  to  which  he  is 
insensible,  that  knowledge  is  valuable  for  its  own  sake,  are  wholly  thrown  away. 
**#  *  *  #  **** 

Is,  then,  scientific  knowledge  useful  ?  Few  objectors  will  take  the  broad  ground 
of  denying  all  utility  to  science ;  or  of  denying  utility  to  all  sciences.  Few  will 
hesitate  to  admit  that  every  science  furnishes  some  facts  that  are  useful.  Even 
the  patient  and  diligent  collector  of  bugs,  and  butterflies,  and  caterpillars,  though 
looked  down  upon  in  a  general  way  by  the  utilitarian  with  an  amusingly  sublime 
loftiness  of  contemptuous  regard,  if  he  but  intimate  a  belief  that  he  is  upon  the 
sure  trace  of  a  method  of  exterminating  the  insect  scourges  of  the  cotton-field,  is 


360  FREDERICK  A.  P.  BARNARD. 

listened  to  with  respectful,  nay,  with  greedy  ears,  and  is  elevated  at  once  to 
position  of  comparative  dignity.  No  scoffer  at  science,  then-fore,  ever  scoffs  at 
the  science,  or  at  the  facts  of  science,  which  he  understands ;  understands,  that  i« 
to  say,  not  aa  simple,  isolated  facts,  a  thing  wh'eh  is  generally  easy — but  under 
stands  in  nil  their  bearings,  and  relations,  and  far-rt  aching  affiliations  with  other 
facts  with  which  they  have  no  obvious  or  visible  connection — a  thing  which  is 
often  not  easy  at  all.  *  *  * 

When  Priestly,  in  1774,  turning  the  focus  of  his  burning  lens  upon  the  sub 
stance  known  in  the  shops  of  the  apothecaries  under  the  name  of  rid  precipitate, 
detached  bubbles  of  a  g;is  identical  with  that  which,  in  the  atmosphere,  supports 
life,  who  could  presume  that,  in  thus  freeing  one  of  the  metals  from  its  companion 
element,  he  hat!  detected  the  composition  of  many  of  the  m«>st  useful  ores,  and 
furnished  a  hint  \vhk-h  was  yet  to  reduce  all  nittallurgic  art,  from  the  smelting  of 
iron  to  the  reduction  of  aluminium,  under  the  dominion  of  chemical  science,  and 
to  the  severe  rule  of  an  intelligent  and  a  productive  economy  ?  "When,  in  the 
same  year,  Scheele,  by  operating  on  the  acid  of  sea-salt,  made  first  visible  to  hu 
man  eyes  that  colored  gas  whose  suffocating  odor  is  now  so  well  known  to  all  the 
world,  who  could  foresee  the  astonishing  revolution  which  a  discovery,  then  inter 
esting  only  for  its  curious  beauty,  was  destined  to  introduce  into  the  manufacture, 
of  paper,  of  linen  textures,  and  of  a  vjist  multitude  of  other  objects,  of  daily  and 
hourly  use?  Or  what  imagination  could  have  been  extravagant  enough,  or  fan 
tastic  enough,  in  the  exercise  of  its  inventive  power,  to  anticipate  that  a  substance, 
for  the  moment  not  merely  useless  but  seemingly  noxious,  would,  in  the  nine 
teenth  century,  accomplish  what,  without  it,  no  instrumentality  known  to  science 
or  art  could  have  accomplished — find  aliment  for  the  rapacious  maw  of  a  letter 
press,  whose  insatiable  demands,  already  grown  vast  beyond  all  conception,  grow 
yet  with  each  succeeding  year?  When  the  chemists  of  the  last  century  observed 
the  discoloration  and  degradation  which  certain  metallic  salts  undergo  in  the  sun 
light,  who  could  possibly  read,  in  a  circumstance  so  apparently  trivial,  though  oc 
casionally  troublesome,  the  intimation  that  the  sun  himself  was  about  to  place  in 
the  hands  of  Niepce,  and  Dagnerre,  and  Talbot,  a  pencil,  whose  magical  powers 
of  delineation  should  cause  the  highest  achievements  of  human  pictorial  art  to 
seem  poor  and  rude  in  the  comparison  ?  When  Malus,  in  1810,  watching  the 
glare  of  the  sun's  rays,  reflected  from  the  windows  of  the  Luxembourg  to  his 
own.  noticed  for  the  first  time  the  curious  phenomena  attendant  on  that  peculiar 
condition  of  light  which  has  since  been  known  by  the  name  of  polarization,  what 
prescience  could  have  connected  a  fact  so  totally  without  any  perceptible  utility, 
with  the  manufacture  of  sugar  in  France;  or  have  anticipated  that  an  instrument, 
founded  in  principle  on  this  very  property,  would,  forty  years  later,  effect  an  an 
nual  saving  to  the  French  people  to  the  extent  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  francs  ? 
When  CKrsted,  in  1819,  observed  the  disturbance  of  the  magnetic  needle  by  the 
influence  of  a  neighboring  galvanic  current,  how  wild  and  visionary  would  not 
that  man  have  been  pronounced  to  be,  who  should  have  professed  to  read,  in  an 
indication  so  slight,  the  grand  truth  that  science  had,  that  day,  stretched  out  the 
scepter  of  her  authority  over  a  winged  messenger,  whose  fleetness  should  make 
a  laggard  even  of  Oberon's  familiar  sprite,  and  render  the  velocity  which  could 
"  put  a  girdle  round  the  earth  in  forty  minutes  "  tardy  and  unsatisfying? 

Questions  of  this  kind,  suggested  by  the  history  of  scientific  progress,  might  be 
multiplied  to  fill  a  volume.  Indeed,  it  lias  almost  come  to  be  a  dogma  in  science, 
that  there  is  no  new  truth  whatever,  no  matter  how  wide  a  space  may  seem,  in 
the  hour  of  its  discovery,  to  divide  it  from  anv  connection  with  the  material  inter 
ests  of  man,  which  carries  not  within  it  the  latent  seeds  of  a  utility,  which  fur 
ther  discovery,  in  the  same  field,  will  reveal  and  cause  to  germinate. 

We  would  gladly  follow  President  Barnard  through  his  glowing 
argument,  in  behalf  of  higher  learning  but  we  must  refer  our  read 
ers  to  the  " Letter"  itself. 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES. 


361 


ELECTIVE    STUDIES. 

Tn  the  last  annual  communication  of  the  president  to  tlie 
trustees,  evidence  \vas  presented,  derived  from  a  pretty  extensive 
examination  of  the  statistics  of  collegiate  education  in  the  United 
States,  showing  that  the  colleges,  in  insisting  upon  the  pursuance  of 
an  invariable  curriculum  of  study  by  all  their  students,  arc  not 
satisfying  the  demands  of  the  age  as  it  respects  the  higher  educa 
tion.  The  question  was  then  discussed  as  a  question  of  pure 
statistics;  with  a  view  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  what  is  the  estimation 
in  which  the  education  furnished  by  the  colleges  is  held  by  the 
people  at  the  present  time,  compared  with  what  it  was  earlier  in  the 
century.  The  result  of  the  inquiry,  however  it  might  turn  out,  did 
not  necessarily  involve  any  tiling  beyond.  Should  it  appear  that 
the  colleges  at  present  attract  a  smaller  number  of  students  in 
proportion  to  the  population  than  formerly,  and  even  that  this 
proportion  is  sensibly  diminishing  as  years  go  by,  it  is  still  free  to 
those  who  believe  that  the  system  can  not  be  materially  improved, 
to  ascribe  this  to  popular  error;  and  to  hope,  and  to  profess  to 
anticipate  that  this  error,  like  many  caprices  of  which  precedents 
may  be  found  perhaps  in  history,  will  presently  pass  away.  To 
such  the  results  actually  reached  in  the  inquiry  will  probably  be 
umvclcome,  but  will  fail  to  suggest  the  propriety  of  any  modification 
of  the  system  itself. 

There  are  those  who  hold  with  some  reason  that  the  popular 
judgment  of  systems  of  education  is  not  to  be  trusted  ;  but  none 
can  wisely  claim  that  it  ought  not  to  be  regarded.  No  scheme 
however  judicious  can  be  successful,  in  a  country  where  choice  is 
free,  unless  the  people  can  be  made  to  see  that  it  is  judicious.  To 
a  community  without  education,  or  but  imperfectly  educated,  the 
value  of  education  of  any  kind  is  not  very  obvious.  And  hence  it 
is  that  this  is  one  of  the  subjects  of  great  public  interest,  of  which 
it  is  unsafe  to  trust  the  regulation  to  the  ordinary  law  of  supply  and 
demand.  Limitation  of  knowledge  is  not,  like  deficiency  of  food, 
attended  with  a  craving  for  a  larger  supply.  It  is  characteristic  of 
ignorance,  on  the  other  hand,  to  be  content  not  to  know ;  and  of 
partial  information,  to  be  puffed  up  with  the  conceit  that  there  is 
little  more  to  be  known.  The  relations  of  men  to  each  other  in 
civilized  society  render  certain  descriptions  of  elementary  knowledge 
necessary  to  all ;  or  at  least  cause  the  absence  of  such  humble 
knowledge  to  be  felt  as  a  positive  inconvenience ;  and  so  far  as  this 
may  extend,  but  only  so  far,  we  may  presume  that  education  will 


362  AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES. 

be  provided  in  obedience  to  a  spontaneous  popular  demand.  But 
a  high  order  of  education  is  not  the  necessity  of  the  many,  and 
the  want  of  it  can  never  be  felt  by  them  as  a  personal  want  Still 
less  are  the  multitude  likely  to  feel  the  importance  to  the  common 
wealth  that  there  should  be  an  order  of  educated  men  superior  to 
themselves.  On  the  other  hand,  the  popular  feeling  is  instinctively 
opposed  to  the  growth  of  such  an  order,  or  to  any  order  which 
breaks  the  dead  level  of  uniform  mediocrity.  This  is  well 
illustrated  in  the  history  of  educational  institutions  in  a  number  of 
the  more  recently  formed  states  of  our  Union,  in  which  provision  for 
the  higher  education  has  been  made  by  means  of  endowments 
granted  by  the  general  government,  but  intrusted  for  their  adminis 
tration  to  the  legislatures  of  the  States  themselves.  In  cases  which 
have  fallen  under  the  personal  observation  of  the  president,  the 
colleges,  though  costing  the  people  nothing,  have  been  subjects  of 
constant  denunciation  by  demagogues  as  nurseries  of  aristocrats, 
their  halls  have  been  but  meagrely  attended  in  spite  of  attractions 
which  ought  to  have  filled  them  with  throngs,  and  their  endeavors 
to  fulfill  their  mission  have  been  rather  tolerated  than  sustained  by 
the  people. 

The  fact  then  regarding  the  higher  education  is,  not  that  the 
demand  creates  the  supply,  but  that  the  supply  determines  the 
demand.  Superior  educational  institutions  are  provided  either  by 
governments  or  by  the  thinking  few  ;  and  these,  by  the  offers  which 
they  hold  out,  and  by  the  visible  results  which  they  produce  as 
illustrated  in  the  subsequent  history  of  those  who  avail  themselves 
of  their  advantages,  slowly  educate  the  people  to  an  understanding 
of  the  value  of  education — of  the  value  of  education  in  general, 
and  of  the  value  of  the  form  of  education  furnished,  in  particular. 
So  long  as  this  form  of  education  seems  to  fit  men  best  to  meet 
with  and  master  the  practical  problems  presented  by  the  age  in 
which  they  live,  whether  these  be  political  or  social,  industrial, 
moral  or  purely  intellectual,  so  long  will  it  be  preferred,  and  so  long 
will  the  public  preference  for  it  be  manifested  in  the  increasing 
numbers  of  those  who  seek  its  benefits.  If,  in  the  changing 
conditions  of  society,  systems  of  education  remain  wholly  unchang 
ed,  there  is  reason  to  doubt  whether  the  training  which  was  once 
perfectly  adapted  to  the  circumstances  can  continue  to  remain  so. 
And  its  want  of  adaptcdncss  to  the  new  exigencies  of  life,  or  its 
positive  defects,  can  not  fail  to  be  detected  by  the  people,  through 
the  application  of  the  same  criteria  by  means  of  which  they  learned 
to  value  the  higher  education  at  all.  As  therefore  the  practical 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE -ELECTIVE  STUDIES.  363 

success  of  educational  systems  and  of  educational  institutions,  in  a 
country  where  as  before  remarked,  the  choice  is  free — where 
government,  that  is  to  say,  does  not  step  in  to  control  the  will  of 
the  individual — must  depend  upon  the  favor  voluntarily  extended 
to  them  by  the  people,  the  evidence  of  a  great  and  decided  change 
in  the  popular  estimation  of  a  system  long  established  and  long 
undeniably  favorite,  compels  the  inevitable  conclusion  that  this 
system  requires  modification.  No  theory  can  stand  against  a  fact 
like  this.  It  is  idle  to  prove  to  a  people  that  they  ought  to  prefer 
a  species  of  culture  which,  upon  evidence  satisfactory  to  them,  they 
have  deliberately  made  up  their  minds  not  to  prefer. 

The  change  in  respect  to  the  popular  appreciation  of  the  system 
of  collegiate  education,  in  form  as  hitherto  conducted  in  our  country, 
indicated  by  the  diminished  attendance  upon  the  colleges,  is  too 
great  to  be  treated  as  an  accidental  irregularity ;  and  it  has  been 
steadily  progressive  for  so  long  a  time,  that  it  can  be  attributed  to 
no  passing  caprice.  Taking  the  whole  country  through,  the  number 
of  undergraduate  students  in  all  the  colleges  is  less  at  the  present 
time  in  proportion  to  the  entire  population,  than  it  was  thirty  years 
ago,  nearly  in  the  ratio  of  two  to  one.  From  New  England,  where 
collegiate  education  has  always  been  more  highly  in  favor  than 
any  where  else,  the  number  of  undergraduate  students  sent  to  the 
colleges  within  and  without  New  England,  is  not  greater  by  one 
hundred  in  all  at  this  time,  than  it  was  in  1838.  It  is  even 
considerable  less,  if,  at  both  dates,  we  leave  out  Harvard  University  ; 
an  institution  which  has  received,  within  the  last  few  years,  a  rapid 
and  surprising  increase  of  numbers,  as  an  apparent  consequence  of 
havino-  abandoned  the  distinctive  feature  of  the  colleo-iate  system  of 

C?  O  • 

instruction,  i.  e.  the  invariable  curriculum  of  study.  In  all  New 
England  there  is  not  a  sino-le  considerable  college  in  which  the 

o  9  O 

attendance  from  its  own  state  has  not  fallen  oft'  in  recent  years, 
except  Amherst,  where  it  has  not  increased,  though  the  population 
has  increased  largely,  and  Harvard,  in  regard  to  the  exceptional 
prosperity  of  which,  the  probable  reason  has  just  been  suggested. 

In  regard  to  our  own  State  of  New  York,  we  have  not  the 
means  of  ascertaining,  for  former  years,  how  many  young  men  have 
been  sent  to  colleges  beyond  the  State  limits,  or  how  many  from 
other  States  have  attended  our  own  ;  but  the  comparison  of  the 
total  attendance  upon  the  colleges  of  New  York  at  different  periods 
exhibits  results  entirely  in  harmony  with  those  derived  from  New 
England.  Taking  up,  for  instance,  entirely  at  random,  the  Ameri 
can  Almanac  for  1848,  we  find  that  the  colleges  of  the  State  of 


364  AMERICAN  COLLEGE— ELECTIVE  STt  DIES. 

New  York,  then  six  in  number,  viz.  Columbia,  Union,  Hamilton, 
Madison,  Geneva  (now  Ifobart)  and  the  N.  Y.  City  University, 
embraced  for  the  year  preceding,  nine  hundred  and  forty  under 
graduate  students;  while  in  1809-70,  the  total  attendance  of 
students  in  Arts  in  all  the  colleges,  now  increased  to  twelve  in 
number,  viz.,  besides  the  above-named,  Gencsce,  Rochester,  St. 
Stephens,  Cornell,  Alfred,  and  the  college  of  the  City  of  New  York, 
was  only  one  thousand  and  thirty -four;  an  absolute  increase  of 
ninety-four,  or  ten  per  cent,  only,  while  the  population  of  the  State 
during  the  same  time  increased  not  less  than  fifty  per  cent. 

If,  in  connection  with  facts  like  these,  which  illustrate  the 
declining  favor  with  which  that  system  of  collegiate  education  is 
regarded,  which  makes  adherence  to  an  invariable  curriculum  of 
study  its  distinctive  characteristic,  we  consider  the  success  of  those 
institutions  which  offer  to  their  students  a  considerable  latitude  of 
choice  in  the  selection  of  their  studies,  we  shall  see  that  it  is  not 
an  inferior  grade  of  education  which  the  popular  voice  demands, 
nor  a  diminished  amount  of  exaction.  It  is  rather  that  education 
shall  be  varied  to  suit  the  varying  capacities  of  individuals;  and 
further,  that,  in  place  of  limited  and  necessarily  superficial  attain 
ment  in  many  things,  there  shall  be  thoroughness,  or  at  least  the 
opportunity  for  thoroughness,  in  a  smaller  number.  The  throng 
which  has  filled  the  halls  of  Cornell  University  from  the  first  clay 
of  their  opening  has  been  gathered  mainly  by  the  opportunity  thus 
offered.  And  though  the  education  furnished  by  some  of  the 
schools  of  that  institution  is  not  what  can  be  properly  called  liberal, 
yet  setting  these  schools  aside,  the  truth  still  remains  that  Cornell 
University,  in  the  third  year  of  its  existence,  outnumbers  any  three 
of  tho.se  of  the  colleges  of  the  State  which  have  been  in  existence 
half  a  century.  The  University  of  Michigan  furnishes  an  example 
almost  equally  striking  which  has  been  in  evidence  for  a  much 
longer  period.  This  institution  numbers  at  present  nearly  five 
hundred  students  in  its  undergraduate  department.  But  the  most 
remarkable  illustration  of  the  same  truth  is  probably  that  which  is 
to  be  found  in  the  case  of  Harvard  University  alrcadv  mentioned  ; 
especially  when  considered  in  comparison  with  the  sister  institution 
next  in  age  (in  New  England)  and  her  most  prominent  competitor, 
Yale  College.  These  two  institutions  have,  for  many  years, 
appeared  to  divide  pretty  equally  the  popular  favor.  But  while 
the  first  is  exhibiting  at  the  present  time  a  growth  more  vigorous 
than  has  marked  any  former  period  of  her  history,  the  second  is 
nearly  stationary.  The  average  undergraduate  attendance  of  Yale 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE -ELECTIVE   STUDIES.  3G5 

College  for  the  last  five  years  (including  the  present)  has  been  five 
hundred  and  thirteen.  Her  catalogue  for  1870-71,  gives  the  present 
attendance  at  five  hundred  and  twenty-two;  but  the  total  for  1860- 
Cl — ten  years  ago — was  almost  exactly  the  same,  viz.  five  hundred 
and  twenty-one.  The  increase  at  Harvard  in  the  meantime  has 
been  nearly  two  hundred. 

The  reasons  which  were  once  thought  conclusive  in  favor  of  an 
invariable  curriculum  of  study  extending  through  the  collegiate 
course,  have  many  of  them  at  present  lost  their  principal  force. 
The  first  and  chief  of  these  was  that  the  object  of  collegiate 
training  is  so  almost  exclusively  mental  discipline,  and  so  little  the 
imparting  of  useful  knowledge,  as  to  make  a  uniform  system  of 
instruction  a  logical  necessity.  It  is  not  what  a  young  man  likes 
to  study — that  is  the  argument — but  what  lie  needs  to  study,  to 
which  his  attention  should  be  directed.  Very  probably  what  he 
likes  least  he  will  need  most,  and  to  give  to  him  freedom  of  choice 
will  be  to  defeat  the  ends  of  his  education. 

The  force  of  this  argument  depends  upon  the  assumption,  which 
is  always  made,  and  which  thus  far  lias  never  been  in  terms  distinct 
ly  contradicted,  that  the  entire  college  course  is  or  ought  to  be  a 
course  of  mental  discipline  strictly,  and  nothing  else.  However 
justifiable  this  assumption  may  have  been  fifty  years  ago,  it  can  by 
no  means  be  admitted  at  the  present  time,  without  at  least  important 
qualification.  The  mental  powers  can  not,  it  is  true,  be  exercised 
without  improvement  upon  any  subject,  or  at  any  period  of  life 
before  the  commencement  of  natural  decline ;  and  in  this  sense  w^e 
may  say  that  we  are  always  under  mental  discipline.  But  the 
discipline  which  we  properly  distinguish  as  educational  is  something 
different  from  this.  It  may  be  defined  or  explained  somewhat  as 
follows : — 

There  is  a  period  of  early  life  during  which,  without  any  artificial 
and  intentional  culture  at  all,  the  powers  of  the  body  and  those  of 
the  mind  simultaneously  unfold  themselves.  During  this  period  if 
certain  muscles  of  the  body  or  certain  of  its  limbs  be  kept  in 
incessant  activity,  and  certain  others  in  continual  repose,  the  result 
will  be  an  abnormal  and  possibly  a  monstrous  growth.  But  if  the 
child  be  allowed  to  grow  up  under  ordinary  conditions  so>  as  to- 
reach  adult  years  with  tolerably  symmetrical  proportions,  the 
subsequent  effect  of  unequal  activity  of  the  different  members  of 
the  body  will  no  longer  be  an  Unnatural  development,  or  a  marked 
disturbance  of  the  balance  of  the  physical  powers;  but  rather  a 
greater  skill  or  aptness  in  the  use  of  those  which  are  most  employ- 


3G6  AMERICAN   COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES. 

ed.  Nor  even  in  regard  to  this,  is  use  or  practice  or  exercise,  after 
a  very  early  period  of  life,  sufficient  to  produce  results  which,  while 
the  system  is  still  plastic,  are  accomplished  almost  imperceptibly 
and  with  infinitely  less  effort.  There  are  arts,  such  for  instance  as 
glass  blowing,  which  can  never  be  mastered  except  by  persons  who 
have  grown  up  to  them  from  early  childhood.  And  no  fact  is  more 
familiar  than  the  facility  with  which  the  pronunciation  of  foreign 
languages  is  acquired  by  infantile  lips;  while  it  is  a  hopeless 
undertaking  for  an  adult,  no  matter  what  amount  of  practice  and 
perseverance  he  may  expend  upon  the  effort,  perfectly  to  master 
the  same  accomplishment. 

Now  precisely  the  same  law  holds  true  in  regard  to  mental 
development.  As  there  is  a  period  of  infancy  during  which  the 
child  is  incapable  of  supporting  his  own  weight ;  so  there  is  one  in 
which  he  is  hardly  conscious  of  his  own  existence.  And  as,  with 
the  physical  growth,  the  organs  of  the  body  acquire  strength  and 
come  by  degrees  under  the  control  of  the  will,  so  correspondingly, 
in  the  natural  and  quite  spontaneous  growth  of  the  mind,  the  facul 
ties  unfold  themselves  and  expand  into  vigor,  in  simple  obedience 
to  the  principle  of  development  divinely  implanted  in  the  soul  in 
the  moment  of  its  birth.  With  the  progress  of  years  this  growth 
goes  on  ;  and  the  mind,  like  the  body,  attains  an  adult  stage, 
whether  it  be  subjected  to  external  influences  controlling  its  habits 
— that  is,  to  educational  influences — or  not.  There  comes  a  time 
at  last  beyond  which  educational  influences  are  proverbially  vain. 
There  is  another  period,  the  earliest  of  all,  in  which  they  are  almost 
omnipotent.  This  is  the  period  during  which,  in  obedience  to 
nature's  law,  the  faculties  are  growing ;  and  when  the  educator  may 
force  them  to  grow  into  any  mould  which  he  may  choose  to  throw 
around  them.  But  when  expansion  has  ceased,  moulds  will  be 
placed  in  vain  :  the  mind  will  retain  the  contour  which  nature  and 
circumstances  have  given  it;  and  from  this  point  onward  the 
business  of  education  is  no  longer  to  form  it,  but  to  make  the  most 
of  what  it  is.  '  There  is  here  doubtless  room  for  the  educator  to  do 
much ;  but  his  business  is  to  give  fair  play  to  the  faculties  such  as 
they  arc,  and  such  as  they  must  continue  to  be ;  rather  than  to 
repress  the  salient  characteristics,  and  waste  both  precious  time  and 
weary  labor  in  the  endeavor  to  bring  out  others  which  have  lost 
the  power  to  respond  to  the  solicitations  of  the  cultivator. 

Now  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the  average  age  of  under 
graduates  in  our  American  colleges  is  more  advanced  at  present 
by  several  years,  than  it  was  a  century  ago.  At  the  admission  of 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE 'STUDIES.  307 

students  into  Columbia  College,  record  is  made  of  the  age  of  each 
candidate  at  his  last  preceding  birthday.  Of  the  students  of  all 
the  classes  at  present  in  college,  the  average  of  the  ages  thus  record 
ed  is  sixteen  years  and  nine  months ;  and  as  this  is  the  average  at 
the  birthday  preceding  admission,  it  may  fairly  be  concluded  that, 
at  the  time  of  admission,  the  average  age  exceeded  seventeen  years. 
The  average  age  at  graduation  is  therefore  twenty-one  years,  or  the 
age  of  manhood  complete.  Until  within  the  last  six  or  seven  years, 
the  matriculation  books  of  the  college  have  contained  no  record  of 
the  ages  of  the  students.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  from  this 
source,  to  obtain  any  information  as  to  the  average  age  of  admission 
into  this  college  during  the  last  century.  Quite  a  number  of 
instances  have,  however,  come  to  our  knowledge  in  which  individuals 
entered  the  college  as.  early  as  twelve  or  thirteen,  and  graduated  at 
sixteen  or  seventeen.  Possibly  these  were  extreme  cases;  but  no 
such  case  could  be  possible  at  all  at  present,  since  the  statutes 
prohibit  the  admission  of  any  student  below  fifteen  years  of  age. 
Suppose  then  the  average  age  at  that  early  period  to  have  been 
thirteen  or  fourteen  years.  That  is  already  three  or  four  years 
below  the  present  average ;  and  three  or  four  years  taken  at  the 
very  time  of  life  when  the  mental  as  well  as  the  physical  organiza 
tion  is  loosing  its  plasticity  and  attaining  its  ultimate  form  as  well 
as  stature.  It  is  a  question  well  worth  considering,  whether  a  plan 
of  education  which  might  be  admirably  adapted  to  the  circumstances 
of  boys  between  twelve  and  sixteen,  could  possibly  be  equally 
suitable  for  young  men  between  seventeen  and  twenty-one.  For 
the  first  class  named,  there  might  be  reason  in  demanding  that  the 
entire  course  should  be  shaped  with  a  view  to  mental  discipline 
only.  As  it  respects  the  second,  there  is  no  less  reason  for  re 
quiring  that  a  principal  object  should  be,  to  impart  knowledge  for 
the  sake  of  knowledge  itself.  And  though  this  should  not  be  the 
governing  object  throughout  the  whole  course,  it  ought  at  least  to 
give  character  to  the  later  years. 

A  second  reason  why  it  is  no  longer  expedient  to  treat  collegiate 
instruction  as  being  designed  exclusively  for  mental  discipline,  in 
contradistinction  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  is  found  in  the 
fact  that  it  is  no  longer  practicable  to  do  so.  While  the  subjects 
taught  in  college  were  few,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  pure  ma 
thematics,  were  purely  literary,  it  was  not  difficult  to  prosecute  them 
so  steadily  and  so  far  as  to  make  them  instruments  of  a  real  mental 
discipline.  This  is  no  longer  the  case,  especially  after  the  first  two 
years.  The  curriculum  has  been  so  overloaded  by  gradual  addi- 


308  AMERICAN  COLLEGE— ELECTIVE  STtDIES. 

tions,  that  if  now  an  equal  distribution  of  the  available  time  were 
made  to  the  several  subjects  of  study,  each  one  could  command  but 
two  or  three  weeks.  This  surely  is  not  sufficient  to  make  of  any 
study  an  efficient  instrument  of  mental  discipline.  Nor  is  the  expe 
dient  by  which  the  several  subjects,  instead  of  being  successfully 
disposed  of,  are  spread  out  over  the  surface  of  a  whole  session  or  a 
whole  year,  being  alternated  in  such  a  manner  as  to  separate  the 
hours  devoted  to  each  by  considerable  intervals,  sometimes  by 
several  days,  one  which  is  likely  to  increase  its  efficiency.  It  has 
been  claimed  for  our  American  college  system  that,  in  departing 
from  the  type  on  which  it  was  originally  constructed,  as  it  lias  done 
by  the  large  extension  of  its  curriculum,  it  has  been  materially 
improved ;  and  this  is  true,  if  we  regard  its  principal  aim  to  be  to 
impart  knowledge ;  but  it  is  by  no  means  so  if  we  consider  it  as 
designed  mainly  for  the  discipline  of  immature  minds.  Under  the 
arrangements  actually  existing  and  in  present  circumstances  un 
avoidable,  it  is  impossible  to  confine  the  attention  of  the  student 
with  steadiness  to  any  particular  subject ;  and  without  some  such 
steadiness  of  effort  the  benefit  of  study  can  not  be  subjectively  great. 
It  is  true  that  diversity  of  labor,  under  proper  limitations  is  bene 
ficial  ;  and  is  in  fact  indispensable  to  the  attainment  of  the  import 
ant  educational  end  of  a  well  balanced  mental  development;  but  it 
is  evident  that  such  a  diversification  may  be  carried  so  far  as  to 
result  rather  in  a  dissipation  than  a  healthful  exercise  of  the  mental 
powers.  Our  college  system  may  not  have  reached  this  extreme; 
but  it  is  not  necessary  that  it  should  reach  it  in  order  that  its  use 
fulness  for  its  original  object  may  be  seriously  impaired. 

A  third  reason  why  it  is  desirable  that  our  colleges  should  cease 
to  insist  upon  an  invariable  curriculum  of  study  throughout  the  whole 
extent  of  the  educational  course  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  we 
have  no  other  institutions  but  these  to  supply  to  American  youth 
that  advanced  training  which  in  Europe  is  furnished  so  abundantly 
by  the  universities.  We  profess  to  comprehend  in  our  teaching 
nearly  every  subject  of  human  knowledge ;  but  we  are  scarcely  able 
to  pursue  a  single  one  beyond  its  elements.  The  majority  of  our 
students  do  not  become  so  proficient,  even  in  the  classical  tongues, 
as  to  be  able  to  read  with  facility  the  works  of  classic  authors  which 
they  have  not  read  before ;  and  yet  these  arc  subjects  in  which 
they  arc  required  to  be  tolerably  well  versed  before  they 
enter  the  college.  The  only  expedient  by  which  it  can  be  made 
possible  for  an  individual  to  pursue  any  given  subject  to  a  greater 
extent,  and  to  attain  to  greater  thoroughness  in  it  than  at  present,, 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES  o69 

is  to  permit  him,  at  some  period  of  the  course,  to  devote  himself 
more  uninterruptedly  to  this,  and  to  relinquish  other  subjects  in  its 
favor.  Supposing  such  a  freedom  to  be  generally  allowed,  the  tone 
of  the  teaching  in  all  the  departments  of  the  college  will  be  neces 
sarily  raised,  and  will  be,  to  some  extent  assimilated  to  the  teaching 
of  the  European  universities.  Those  colleges  which  peculiar  circum" 
stances,  such  as  the  possession  of  large  resources,  or  of  a  wide  and 
well  established  reputation,  conspire  to  favor,  may  be  able  at  length 
to  place  themselves  entirely  upon  the  level  of  those  celebrated 
foreign  institutions.  It  is  probably  only  by  some  such  gradual 
transformation  of  existing  institutions,  that  we  shall  in  this  country 
ever  be  able  to  realize  the  ideal  of  a  continental  university.  Pro 
jects  innumerable  have  been  set  on  foot  looking  to  the  independent 
erection  among  us  of  such  grand  and  costly  educational  establish 
ments;  but  so  long  as  the  highest  institutions  of  this  description 
which  we  have  already,  in  spite  of  all  the  influences,  political,  denom 
inational,  sectional  and  personal,  which  can  be  combined  in  their 
favor,  continue  to  be  struggling  against  the  difficulties  which  limited 
means  entail  upon  them,  it  is  idle  to  expect  that  such  schemes  can 
succeed,  and  it  would  be  a  manifest  wrong  if  they  could.  What 
the  country  now  needs  most  is  that  the  colleges  should  be  supported 
and  strengthened ;  what  the  colleges  need  is,  such  improvements  in 
their  plan  of  operations,  as  shall  regain  for  them  the  confidence  and 
favor  of  the  people  of  the  country,  and  shall  enable  them,  or  some 
of  them  at  least,  to  supply  that  deficiency  in  the  system  of  our 
superior  education,  which,  if  not  supplied  by  them,  can  hardly  be 
supplied  at  all. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  considerable  reason  why  the  average 
age  of  students  in  American  colleges  has  become  so  materially 
advanced  within  the  last  half  century,  is  to  be  found  in  thp  great 
improvement  within  that  time,  of  the  Secondary  Schools.  Fifty  years 
ago,  almost  the  only  superior  schools  below  the  colleges  to  be  found 
in  the  country,  were  those  which  were  devoted  to  the  preparation 
of  boys  for  entering  college  ;  and  in  these  very  little  was  taught 
beyond  the  ancient  languages.  Now,  the  academies  of  the  State  of 
New  York,  and  the  schools  of  corresponding  grade  in  most  of  the 
northern,  middle,  and  western  states,  give  instruction  in  as  large  a 
range  of  subjects  as  the  colleges  themselves.  They  differ  from  the 
colleges  in  permitting  to  their  pupils  the  largest  freedom  of  choice 
in  the  selection  of  their  studies,  and  in  limiting  attendance  to  no 
determined  period  of  years.  Some  of  them,  perhaps  most  of  them, 
have  established  what  they  call.  "  a  graduating  course  of  study," 
24 


370  AMERICAN  COLLLCE-ELLtTlVE  S11DILS. 

corresponding  to  the  college  curriculum  ;  at  the  close  of  wLicli  they 
grant  certificates  of  proficiency,  or  diplomas,  to  those  who  have 
completed  the  course ;  but  these  certificates  confer  no  rights  or 
privileges,  and  though  often  representing  an  amount  of  attainment 
equal  to  that  of  many  college  graduates,  do  not  carry  with  them  a 
prestige  like  that  which  accompanies  a  degree  in  Arts.  Academics 
conducted  on  this  plan  have  all  the  characteristics  of  the  ordinary 
college,  with  the  elective  system  added.  Except  as  to  this  addi 
tional  feature,  and  in  being  open  to  both  sexes,  they  do  not  differ 
in  any  material  respect  from  the  average  college  of  the  country. 
There  are  unquestionably  academies  in  the  State  of  New  York 
which,  considered  as  educational  instrumentalities,  are  immensely 
superior  to  many  institutions  elsewhere,  which  in  virtue  of  a  name 
and  a  charter  are  entitled  by  law  to  take  rank  above  them.  In  the 
list  of  the  subjects  taught  in  these  academics  there  is  not  one  want 
ing  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  curriculum  of  the  average  college  of 
the  United  States.  This  will  be  apparent  from  the  following 
enumeration  derived  from  the  last  annual  report  of  the  regents  of 
the  university.  Omitting  the  elementary  branches,  as  being  of 
course  taught,  we  find  in  this  enumeration  the  following,  viz.,  under 
mathematics,  alphabetically  arranged ;  algebra,  astronomy,  calcu 
lus,  conic  sections,  engineering,  geometry,  analytical  geometry, 
descriptive  geometry,  natural  philosophy,  (i.  e.  physics  in  all  its 
branches),  leveling,  navigation,  perspective,  surveying,  and  trigono 
metry  :  under  ancient  languages  ;  Greek,  Latin,  Grecian  antiquities, 
Roman  antiquities  and  mythology:  under  modern  Ian g uagcs  ;  French, 
German,  Italian  and  Spanish:  under  natural  sciences;  anatomy, 
physiology,  hygiene,  botany,  chemistry,  geology,  meteorology, 
mineralogy,  natural  history,  technology,  and  zoology  :  and  finally, 
under  moral,  intellectual  and  political  science  ;  criticism,  Christianity 
(evidences,)  general  history,  history  of  the  United  States,  history  of 
literature,  natural  theology,  intellectual  philosophy,  moral  philoso 
phy,  constitutional  law,  logic,  rhetoric,  political  economy  and  the 
principles  of  teaching. 

Of  this  system  and  this  programme,  the  regents  of  the  university, 
in  their  eighty-first  annual  report,  remark  as  follows :  "  Though 
these  subjects  are  voluntary  with  the  scholar,  and  he  is  permitted  to 
exercise  an  almost  unrestrained  freedom  of  choice,  many  pursue 
them  all,  while  others  select  those  to  which  their  peculiar  taste 
.prompts  them,  or  which  the  expected  employments  of  life,  seem  to 
.demand.  Young  men  have  often  thus  been  brought  from  the 
.humblest  position  in  life  to  commence  their  studies  without  any 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES.  3^ 

design  or  expectation  of  making  them  exclusive  ;  but  as  tlieir  intel 
lects  have  been  developed,  and  their  desire  for  knowledge  strength 
ened,  they  have  successfully  grappled  with  difficulties,  every  new 
struggle  giving  them  additional  power,  until  the  highest  means  of 
education  have  been  reached,  and  they  have  gone  forth  into  the 
world  to  grace  the  most  honorable  and  responsible  positions  in 
society." 

The  academies  of  the  State  of  New  York  fulfill  a  double  function. 
They  are  at  once  schools  of  elementary  training,  and  schools  of 
superior  culture.  In  the  advantages  of  elementary  instruction 
which  they  offer,  all  their  pupils  more  or  less  participate ;  the 
higher  instruction  benefits  a  more  limited  number.  Were  they 
restricte  dsolely  to  this  superior  function,  they  would  occupy  the 
grade  and  perform  substantially  the  work  of  the  German 
gymnasia.  And  that  portion  of  their  pupils  who  pursue  the  higher 
course  of  study  correspond  approximately  in  respect  to  age  with  the 
student  body  of  the  college  as  we  may  presume  it  to  have  been 
from  fifty  to  one  hundred  years  ago.  We  find,  in  fact,  that  of  the 
total  number  of  pupils  who  were,  at  one  time  or  another,  in  attend 
ance  upon  all  the  academies  of  the  state,  in  1869,  (the  year 
embraced  in  the  last  published  report  of  the  regents) — a  total 
exceeding  thirty  thousand — about  one-third  part,  or  over  nine 
thousand,  Were  engaged  in  pursuing  classical  or  higher  English 
studies ;  and  the  average  age  of  this  portion  is  given  at  sixteen 
years  and  four-tenths.  This  is  the  average  age  of  students  in  a  college 
in  which  the  course  of  study  covers  four  years,  and  the  students 
enter  as  freshmen  between  fourteen  and  fifteen. 

The  total  number  of  the  academies  in  the  State,  according  to  the 
report  just  cited,  is  two  hundred  and  twenty-four ;  but  of  these 
there  were  only  one  hundred  and  ninety-eight  from  which  returns 
had  been  received.  The  numbers  given  above  ought  perhaps, 
therefore,  to  be  increased  about  one-eighth.  But  these  numbers, 
being  the  aggregates  for  the  year,  should  be  checked  by  the  reports 
of  average  daily  attendance.  The  average  daily  attendance  in  one 
hundred  and  ninety-eight  academies  was  thirteen  thousand  three 
hundred  and  eighty-two ;  and  the  average  daily  attendance  of  the 
higher  class  of  pupils  would  accordingly  be  reduced  to  four  thousand 
and  fifty-seven ;  so  that  if  allowance  be  made  for  academies  not 
reporting,  it  may  be  stated,  in  round  numbers  at  forty-five  hundred. 

The  existence  of  a  class  of  schools  of  this  high  character,  in  which 
perfect  freedom  is  allowed  in  the  choice  of  studies,  can  not  but  have 
something  to  do  in  turning  away  students  from  the  colleges  which 


372  AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES. 

(in  their  programmes)  profess  to  teach  nothing  more,  but  in  which 
the  choice  is  completely  fettered.  It  is  in  this  manner  only  that  a 
satisfactory  explanation  can  be  found  of  the  fact  that  the  State  of 
New  York  furnishes  to  the  regular  colleges  of  the  country  a  very 
exceptionally  small  number  of  undergraduate  students  in  proportion 
to  the  aggregate  population.  From  the  returns  of  the  ninth  census 
of  the  United  States  it  appears  that  the  population  of  the  State  of 
New  York  amounts  at  present  to  4,374,499.  From  the  collected 
catalogues  of  the  principle  colleges  of  the  Union,  amounting  to 
more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  all,  it  appears  that  the  total 
number  of  undergraduate  students  in  the  department  of  Arts  in  these, 
from  the  same  State,  is  thirteen  hundred  and  seventy.  The  State  fur 
nishes,  therefore,  only  one  undergraduate  student  to  the  colleges  for 
every  three  thousand  one  hundred  and  ninety-three  inhabitants  ; 
while  New  England  furnishes  at  the  same  time,  one  to  every  one 
thousand  nine  hundred  and  fifty-seven.  Now  of  the  forty-five 
hundred  students  of  the  higher  class  in  daily  attendance  in  the 
academies,  at  least  a  fifth  part  may  be  assumed  to  be  pursuing  the 
advanced  studies  of  the  programme,  such  as  correspond  to  the  later 
years  in  college.  And  if  we  increase  the  actual  number  of  under 
graduates  found  as  above  for  New  York  by  nine  hundred,  the  fifth 
part  of  forty-five  hundred,  the  result  will  be  to  give  a  proportion  of 
students  to  population  of  one  to  one  thousand  nine  hundred  and 
twenty-seven,  very  nearly  the  same  as  in  New  England. 

There  is,  moreover,  additional  evidence  that  the  attractions  of  the 
academies  sensibly  affect  the  attendance  on  the  colleges,  to  be  found 
in  a  more  particular  examination  of  the  returns  of  the  several 
academies  taken  separately,  in  regard  to  the  ages  of  their  advanced 
pupils.  The  average  age  of  all  these  pupils,  in  all  the  academies,  is 
as  above  stated,  sixteen  years  and  four-tenths.  But  the  average  age 
of  this  class  is  very  different  in  the  different  academies  ;  and  it  is 
by  no  means  to  be  presumed  that  all  these  institutions,  any  more 
than  all  the  colleges,  arc  of  one  uniform  grade  of  excellence.  Ac 
cordingly  it  appears  that,  whereas  in  a  large  number,  the  average 
age  of  the  pupils  reported  as  belonging  to  the  advanced  class  is  as 
low  as  fifteen  or  lower,  yet  in  many  it  is  above  eighteen,  in  some 
above  nineteen,  and  in  several  even  above  twenty.  Thirty-nine  of 
the  academies,  in  fact,  have  an  aggregate  attendance  of  pupils  pur 
suing  advanced  studies  amounting  to  two  thousand  two  hundred 
and  eighty-seven,  return  the  average  age  of  these  students  as  above 
eighteen  years.  Of  this  aggregate,  two  thousand  and  sixty-nine  are 
between  eighteen  and  nineteen  ;  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  be- 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE— ELECTIVE   STUDIES.  373 

tvveen  nineteen  and  twenty ;  and  ninety-two  above  the  age  of 
twenty.  The  ages  of  these  students  correspond  to  those  of  college 
students,  and  the  studies  they  are  pursuing  are  similar  in  character 
to  those  which  are  pursued  in  college.  It  can  not  be  doubted  that 
some  of  this  large  number  have  chosen  the  academy  rather  than  the 
college,  on  account  of  the  greater  freedom  which  they  find  there  in 
the  selection  of  their  studies. 

It  is  not  to  be  presumed  that  the  teaching  of  the  academies  in 
the  higher  branches  of  study  can  in  general  compare  favorably  with 
that  of  the  colleges,  as  it  respects  either  method  or  thoroughness  ; 
but  it  would  be  unjust  to  apply  this  remark  universally.  That  there 
is  great  inequality  among  them,  both  as  it  respects  efficiency  and  as 
it  respects  the  instrumentalities  of  instruction,  is  distinctly  stated 
by  the  regents  in  their  report,  in  which  they  say,  "  if  with  our  pre 
sent  experience,  we  were  to  commence  our  academical  system  anew, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  seventy-five  or  one  hundred  academies 
properly  distributed  through  the  state,  would,  by  their  strong  staff 
of  teachers,  their  considerable  libraries  and  well  selected  apparatus, 
do  more  effectual  service  in  the  cause  of  education  than  the  present 
large  number  of  institutions  ;  as  many  of  these,  from  their  want  of 
sufficient  endowments  and  adequate  support,  are  compelled  to  do 
much  of  their  work  imperfectly."  But  many  of  them  are  schools 
of  very  superior  merit  and  efficiency,  and  these  are  doing,  at  the 
present  time,  a  great  part  of  that  work  of  disciplinary  education 
which  has  been  so  much  insisted  on  as  being  the  proper  work  of 
the  colleges.  It  is  by  these  schools  that  the  colleges  are  principally 
fed,  as  in  Germany  the  universities  are  fed  by  the  gymnasia  ;  and  it 
is  to  be  presumed  that,  in  progress  of  time,  by  the  strengthening  and 
elevation  of  both,  these  two  classes  of  institutions,  thus  independent 
of  each  other  but  still  intimately  related,  may  create  upon  this  con 
tinent  a  system  of  superior  education  practically  parallel  with  that 
of  continental  Europe.  All  our  colleges,  it  is  true,  can  not  become 
universities.  If  the  change  here  anticipated  should  go  on, 
some  will  continue  to  maintain  but  a  secondary  rank,  some  will 
probably  be  absorbed  by  others,  and  some  will  perhaps  at  length 
become  extinct.  It  is  true  already  of  these  institutions,  as  the  re 
gents  have  found  it  to  be  of  the  academics,  that  their  number  is 
greatly  in  excess  of  the  wants  of  the  country,  and  that  the  efficiency 
of  the  system  would  be  materially  promoted,  if  it  could  be  reduced. 

The  principle  objection  to  the  elective  system  of  study  has  always 
been  that  which  is  derived,  as  above  stated,  from  the  theory  of  a 
liberal  education  considered  as  demanding  a  well-rounded  develop- 


374  AMERICAN   COLLEGE— ELECTIVE   STUDIES. 

mcnt  of  the  faculties.  We  have  seen  that  the  force  of  this  objection 
rests  upon  an  assumption  which  can  no  longer  be  admitted — the 
assumption,  namely,  that  the  college  student  is  throughout  the 
course  of  that  tender  age  in  which  educational  influences  may  do 
a  great  deal  more  than  merely  to  brighten  and  invigorate  such 
faculties  as  he  has ;  in  which  such  influences  may  in  fact  actually 
give  them  shape  and  form,  and  evolve  or  repress  them  at  pleasure. 
Other  objections  have  been  suggested  of  less  apparent  weight,  which 
still  should  not  be  permitted  to  pass  without  examination,  nor 
without  an  attempt  to  provide  securities  against  the  dangers  which 
they  indicate.  If  the  choice  of  studies  is  free,  young  men,  it  is  said, 
will  exercise  it  capriciously,  and  will  possibly  pass  from  subject 
to  subject  without  continuing  long  enough  at  any  one  to  derive  from 
it  substantial  advantage.  By  granting  freedom  of  choice,  however, 
it  is  not  to  be  presumed  that  such  a  freedom  is  intended  as  would 
permit  a  student  to  change  from  day  to  day,  or  from  week  to  week. 
The  study  which  is  chosen  must  be  chosen  as  a  whole,  and  must  be 
pursued  to  the  end,  or  to  the  end,  at  least,  of  some  branch  of  it 
which  is  complete  in  itself.  This  rule  will  prevent  capricious 
changes,  and  will  secure  at  least  as  much  continuity  of  attention  to 
particular  subjects  as  the  ordinary  curriculum  allows ;  for  the  very 
fault  of  the  ordinary  curriculum  is  that,  during  the  later  years  at 
least,  it  presents  so  large  a  number  of  subjects  that  long  continued 
study  of  any  one  of  them  is  impossible. 

But  it  is  further  objected  that  the  free  exercise  of  choice  permits 
a  selection  of  such  studies  as  present  the  fewest  difficulties ;  and 
thus  plays  directly  into  the  hand  of  the  careless  and  inefficient 
student.  To  this  it  may  be  replied,  as  the  result  of  a  pretty  long 
observation,  that  the  incorrigibly  idle  are  not  perceptibly  improved 
in  diligence  by  being  compelled  to  pursue  difficult  studies.  In 
every  considerable  body  of  students  there  will  always  be  some  such. 
And  it  is  truly  marvelous  to  remark  how  very  closely  such  indivi 
duals  manage  to  run  to  the  very  minimum  of  attainment  required 
to  save  them  from  being  dropped  from  the  rolls  as  hopelessly  defici 
ent.  Now  the  benefit  which  such  individuals  can  derive  from  being 
compelled  to  pursue  what  they  call  "  hard  studies,"  are  insignificant 
in  comparison  with  the  harm  they  do  to  others,  who,  being  yoked 
with  them  in  the  same  classes,  are  hampered  in  their  progress  by 
their  dullness  or  their  willful  neglect  of  study.  It  is  one  of  the  great 
advantages  of  the  principle  of  election,  that  these  drags  upon  pro- 
gress  arc  effectually  eliminated  by  it ;  so  that  the  strong  men  and 
the  willing  men  can  go  along  together  and  turn  their  strength  and 


AMERICAN   COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES.  375 

their  zeal  to  substantial  account.  The  man  who,  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  which  in  Columbia  College  is  the  age  of  entering  upon  the 
junior  year,  can  be  so  indifferent  to  his  own  improvement,  and  so 
averse  to  mental  effort,  as  to  choose  his  studies  deliberately  with  a 
view  of  getting  rid  of  work,  can  hardly  be  constrained  to  work  upon 
studies  chosen  for  him.  And  the  experience  of  our  own  college, 
which,  though  brief,  is  still  worth  something,  indicates  that  facts 
are  not  likely  to  justify  the  apprehension  on  which  this  objection  is 
founded. 

It  may  be  regarded  as  nearly  certain  that,  in  the  case  of  every 
student  as  to  whom  it  is  of  the  slightest  consequence  one  way  or 
the  other  what  he  chooses,  the  choice  will  be  determined  not  by 
caprice  nor  a  pitiful  desire  to  shirk  labor;  but  by  a  natural  taste  or 
liking  for  one  subject  rather  than  another,  or  by  an  honest  desire  to 
know.  The  preliminary  and  more  elementary  part  of  the  course 
furnishes  the  opportunity  to  compare  different  subjects,  so  far  as  to 
enable  the  student  to  judge  what  he  is  likely  to  pursue  in  its  larger 
development  with  the  greatest  satisfaction  and  therefore  with  the 
largest  substantial  results ;  and  upon  the  basis  of  this  knowledge 
his  choice  will  be  made.  That  this  is  true  is  made  almost  de- 
monstrably  evident  in  the  selections  of  elective  studies  made  at  the 
beginning  of  the  last  academic  year  by  the  members  of  our  senior 
class ;  when  the  study  commonly  reputed  to  be  the  most  difficult 
(metaphysics)  was  chosen  by  two-thirds  of  the  class ;  while  that 
which  passes  for  the  easiest,  and  to  many  is  the  most  fascinating, 
(chemistry)  was  chosen  by  fewer  than  one-fourth. 

That  the  elective  system  is  not  at  present  more  largely  adopted 
in  American  colleges  is  owing,  in  good  degree,  to  the  fact  that  it 
increases  considerably  the  number  of  exercises  which  the  officers 
are  required  to  conduct ;  and  imposes  very  eoon  the  necessity  of 
enlarging  the  academic  staff.  Tho  question  is  not  therefore  purely 
an  educational  one ;  but  it  is  complicated  by  economical  considera 
tions.  It  is  not  possible  that  the  system  should  be  introduced  into 
all  the  colleges ;  and  out  of  this  circumstance  is  likely  to  grow, 
sooner  or  later,  a  classification  into  grades.  Out  of  the  higher 
grade,  embracing  the  smaller  number,  will  probably  bo  developed 
the  universities,  if  we  are  to  have  such,  which  are  to  rival  those  of 
continental  Europe.  The  Jowe.r  will  remain  what  they  are  or  will 
disappear. 

It  is  now  about  eighteen  months  since  the  elective  system  was 
introduced  into  Columbia  College  to  a  limited  extent  and  applied 
to  a  portion  of  the  studies  of  the  senior  year,  The  results  of  the 


376  AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STL  DIES. 

first  experiment,  as  stated  in  the  brief  notice  given  of  it  in  the  last 
annual  report  of  the  president,  were  so  satisfactory,  as  to  induce 
the  committee  on  the  statutes  to  authorize  its  further  extension. 
After  the  lapse  of  another  year,  the  president  is  prepared  to 
speak  with  greater  confidence  than  before,  and  in  terms  of  more 
decided  satisfaction.  As  it  was  last  year  stated  that  the  senior  class 
had  never  before  been  so  steadily  attentive  to  study  up  to  the  close 
of  the  year,  so  it  may  be  said  at  the  present  time  that  the  diligence 
of  the  class  throughout  the  whole  year  has  been  to  a  very  marked 
degree  satisfactory.  The  officers  have  noticed  a  greater  manifesta 
tion  of  interest  in  the  subjects  studied  than  has  been  observed  in 
former  years  ;  and  they  agree,  it  is  believed,  in  ascribing  this  result 
to  the  fact  that  the  studies  are  voluntarily  chosen. 

It  is  not  perhaps  practicable  for  us  for  the  present  to  give  to  the 
elective  system  a  larger  extension  than  it  has  already  received.  In 
order  that,  among  the  studies  submitted  to  the  choice  of  the  student, 
it  may  be  practicable  to  select  any  desired  combination  at  will,  it 
is  necessary  that  the  scheme  of  attendance  shall  be  so  arranged  that 
the  hours  allotted  to  all  these  studies  may  be  different.  In  Colum 
bia  College  at  present,  the  exercises  occupy  only  three  consecutive 
hours  in  the  morning  of  each  day,  giving  to  each  class  fifteen  hours 
per  week.  Of  these  fifteen  hours,  about  half  must  be  devoted  to 
the  required  studies  of  the  course  ;  so  that  only  seven  or  eight  at 
furthest  remain  available  for  the  optional  studies.  In  consequence 
of  this,  it  has  been  found  thus  far  impracticable  to  construct  the 
scheme  so  as  to  prevent  different  optional  studies  from  falling  upon 
the  same  hour ;  but  the  studies  coinciding  have  been  generally 
those  between  which  the  election  would  naturally  fall ;  and  thus  the 
latitude  of  choice  maintained  has  been  greater  than  would  at  first 
appear.  The  plan  is  one,  however,  which  can  be  carried  no  further ; 
and  it  would  be  better  if  it  were  not  carried  so  far. 

No  remedy  presents  itself  for  this  difficulty,  but  to  extend  the 
exercises  over  a  larger  number  of  the  hours  of  the  day  ;  and  this  is 
what,  ultimately,  if  the  system  is  maintained,  will  have  to  be  done. 
But  in  making  such  an  extension,  it  will  inevitably  happen  that 
there  will  occur  occasionally  hours  in  which  a  class  or  portion  of  a 
class  will  have  no  exercise  ;  and  for  the  profitable  employment  of 
these  at  such  intervals,  it  is  impossible  at  present  to  make  provis 
ion.  This  would  be  no  embarrassment  but  rather  an  advantage,  if 
accommodations  could  be  found  in  the  college  building  for  the  un 
occupied  classes,  so  as  to  enable  them,  with  the  aid  of  their  text 
books  and  other  authorities,  to  read  up  the  subject  of  the  ensuing 


AMERICAN  COLLEGE-ELECTIVE  STUDIES.  377 

lecture.  In  fact,  after  considerable  observation  of  the  varying 
practices  of  colleges  in  the  distribution  of  their  time,  we  are  clearly 
of  opinion  that  it  is  much  more  profitable  to  tlie  student  to  alternate 
study  with  his  lectures  or  recitations,  than  to  prepare  all  his'  exer 
cises  for  an  entire  day  at  once,  and  afterward  give  his  attendance  in 
the  class-rooms  for  three  consecutive  hours.  As  the  long-continued 
strain  upon  the  mental  faculties  in  continuous  study  is  wearying  in 
one  way,  so  the  long-continued  bodily  confinement  in  successive 
classes  is  wearying  in  another.  By  breaking  up  these  protracted 
periods,  and  alternating  briefer  seasons  of  active  effort  with  intervals 
of  comparative  repose,  it  seems  reasonable  to  believe  that  more 
beneficial  results  may  be  secured,  as  it  respects  both  the  culture  of 
the  mind  and  the  health  of  the  body.  It  is  an  advantage  enjoyed 
by  colleges  in  which  students  and  instructors  reside  together  and 
form  a  compact  community,  that  any  division  of  the  day  which 
seems  best,  may  be  adopted  with  equal  convenience.  This  advant 
age  may  also  be  enjoyed  by  colleges  in  country  villages,  whether 
they  provide  lodgings  for  their  students  or  not ;  for  neither  students 
nor  instructors,  can,  in  such  places,  be  remote  from  the  academic 
centre.  But  the  same  is  not  true  in  large  cities,  though  to  a  certain 
extent  it  may  be  made  so,  by  providing,  as  just  suggested,  conveni 
ent  apartments  in  which  students  may  study  in  common  during  the 
intervals  between  the  academic  exercises. 


378  MARK  HOPKINS. 

In  the  numerous  occasional  discourses  which  he  has  been  called  on 
to  prepare  and  publish,  Dr.  Hopkins  has  expressed  his  views  on  a 
great  variety  of  educational  topics,  specimen  of  which  we  give 
below. 

EDUCATION. 

Inaugural  Discourse,  1836. 

By  education,  I  mean,  not  merely  formal  instruction,  but  any  system  of  excite 
ment  or  restraint  the  object  of  which  is  to  effect  some  definite  change  in  the 
physical,  intellectual,  or  moral  character  of  man.  The  term,  I  know,  is  often 
used,  in  a  broader  sense,  to  include  every  thing  in  external  nature,  and  in  the  cir 
cumstances  of  the  individual,  which  can  exert  an  influence  upon  him,  whether 
intended  to  exert  such  influence  or  not.  That  there  are  circumstances  in  local 
situation,  and  in  the  structure  of  society,  the  influence  of  which  can  not  be 
avoided,  and  which  yet  often  control  the  character  and  destiny  of  the  young, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  Climate,  the  form  of  government,  childhood  spent  in  the 
city  or  in  the  country,  in  luxury  or  in  poverty,  and  perhaps  more  than  all,  early 
and  casual  impressions  caught  from  first  associates,  operate  imperceptibly,  but  irre 
sistibly,  in  modifying  and  giving  variety  to  character.  But  though  the  influence 
upon  the  mind  of  causes  beyond  our  countrol,  may  be  an  interesting  subject  of 
speculation,  just  as  is  the  influence  of  gravity  on  matter,  and  though  these  causes 
may  form  a  part  of  that  tutelage  under  which  in  the  providence  of  God  his  crea 
tures  are  put,  and  we  may,  if  we  please,  call  it  the  education  of  circumstances, 
yet  if  we  regard  the  common  use  of  language,  or  if  we  would  define  a  practical 
science,  we  must  include  in  the  term  Education,  only  those  circumstances  over 
which  we  have  a  control,  and  which  wo  can  and  do  bring  to  bear  upon  man 
with  the  intention  of  effecting  a  particular  end. 

But  whether  we  consider  education  as  comprising  more  or  less,  or  whatever 
division  we  may  make  of  it,  the  general  principle  which  we  are  to  regard,  espec 
ially  in  its  second  part,  which  is  positive  instruction,  is  now  settled  among  all 
thinking  men.  It  is,  that  we  are  to  regard  the  mind,  not  as  a  piece  of  iron  to  be 
laid  upon  the  anvil  and  hammered  into  any  shape,  nor  as  a  block  of  marble  in 
which  we  are  to  find  the  statue  by  removing  the  rubbish,  nor  as  a  receptacle  into 
which  knowledge  may  be  poured  ;  but  as  a  flame  that  is  to  be  fed,  as  an  active 
being  that  must  be  strengthened  to  think  and  to  feel — to  dare,  to  do,  and  to  suf 
fer.  It  is  as  a  germ,  expanding,  under  the  influence  certainly  of  air  and  sunlight 
and  moisture,  but  yet  only  through  the  agency  of  an  internal  force  ;  and  external 
agency  is  of  no  value  except  as  it  elicits,  and  controls,  and  perfects  the  action 
of  that  force.  He  only  who  can  rightly  appreciate  the  force  of  this  principle,  and 
carry  it  out  into  all  its  consequences,  in  the  spirit  of  the  maxim,  that  nature  is  to 
be  conquered  only  by  obeying  her  laws,  will  do  all  that  belongs  to  the  office  of  a 
teacher. 

BELF-EDUCATION. 

Inaugural  Diacourgf,  1836. 

We  hear  much  said  about  self-educated  men,  and  a  broad  distinction  is  made 
between  them  and  others ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  every  man  who  is  educated  at 
all,  is,  and  must  be,  self-educated.  There  are  no  more  two  methods  in  which  the 
mind  can  make  progress,  than  there  are  two  methods  in  which  plants  can  grow. 
One  seed  may  be  blown  by  the  winds,  and  cast  upon  the  southern,  or  perchance 
on  the  northern  side  of  some  distant  hill,  and  may  there  germinate,  and  take  root, 
and  do  battle  alone  with  the  elements,  and  it  may  be  so  favored  by  the  soil  and 
climate  that  it  shall  lift  itself  in  surpassing  strength  and  beauty ;  another  may  be 
planted  carefully  in  a  good  soil,  and  the  hand  of  tillage  may  be  applied  to  it,  yet 
must  this  also  draw  for  iteelf  nutriment  from  the  soil,  and  for  itself  withstand  the 
rush  of  the  tempest,  and  lift  it*  head  on  high  only  as  it  strikes  its  roots  deep  in  the 
earth.  It  is  for  the  want  of  understanding  this  properly,  that  extravagant  expec 
tations  are  entertained  of  instructors,  and  of  institutions ;  and  that  those  who  go  to 
college  sometimes  expect,  and  the  community  expect,  that  they  will  be  learned 
of  course — as  if  they  could  be  inoculated  with  knowledge,  or  obtain  it  by  absorp- 


MARK  HOPKINS.  379 

tion.  This  broad  distinction  between  self-educated  men  and  others  has  done 
harm  ;  for  young  men  will  not  set  themselves  efficiently  at  work  until  they  feel 
that  there  is  an  all  important  part  which  they  must  perfect  for  themselves,  and 
which  no  one  can  do  for  them. 

CHIEF  EXCELLENCIES  OF  A  TEACHER. 

Inaugural  Discourse,  1836. 

And  I  here  mention,  that  from  this  view  of  the  subject,  it  is  easy  to  see  what 
it  is  that  constitutes  the  first  excellence  of  an  instructor.  It  is  not  his  amount  of 
knowledge,  nor  yet  his  facility  of  communication,  important  as  these  may  be  ;  but 
it  is  his  power  to  give  an  impulse  to  the  minds  of  his  pupils,  and  to  induce  them 
to  labor.  For  this  purpose,  nothing  is  so  necessary  as  a  disinterested  devotion  to 
the  work,  and  a  certain  enthusiasm  which  may  act  by  sympathy  on  the  minds  of 
the  young.  It  is  from  the  decay  of  this  that  courses  of  lectures  and  of  instruc 
tion,  once  attractive,  often  cease  to  interest.  When  a  teacher  has  advanced  so 
far  beyond  his  class,  or  has  become  so  familiar  with  his  subject,  as  to  feel  no  in 
terest  in  its  truths,  then,  however  well  he  may  understand  them,  and  however 
clearly  lie  may  state  them,  he  is  not  all  that  a  teacher  ought  to  be.  He  who  car 
ries  the  torchlight  into  the  recesses  of  science,  and  shows  the  gems  that  are 
sparkling  there,  must  not  be  a  mere  hired  conductor,  who  is  to  bow  in  one  com 
pany,  and  bow  out  another,  and  show  what  is  to  be  seen  with  a  heartless  indiffer 
ence  ;  but  must  have  an  ever  living  fountain  of  emotion,  that  will  flow  afresh  as 
he  contemplates  anew  the  works  of  God  and  the  great  principles  of  truth  and 
duty.  This  is  no  more  impossible  in  regard  to  the  beauties  and  wonders  which 
science  discloses,  than  it  is  in  regard  to  the  more  obvious  appearances  of  nature, 
and  the  instructor  may  adopt  in  spirit  the  words  of  the  poet — 

"  My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  Rainbow  in  the  sky ; 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began ; 
So  is  it  now  1  am  n  Man  ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die  ! 

The  Child  is  Father  of  the  Man  ; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety." 

It  is  such  an  one  alone  who  can  know  the  pleasure  of  carrying  forward  a  class 
of  ingenuous  youth,  and  watching  them  as  they  gain  new  positions,  and  take  in 
wider  views  till  the  whole  prospect  is  at  their  command.  And  when,  as  some 
times  happens,  he  has  a  class  of  an  opposite  character,  and  his  instructions  fall 
dead,  and  no  interest  is  excited,  it  is  he  alone  who  can  know  the  anxiety,  I  had 
almost  said  agony,  with  which,  as  the  prophet  of  old  upon  the  dead  body  of  the 
child,  he  once  and  again  as  it  were  puts  his  mouth  to  its  mouth,  and  his  eyes  to 
its  eyes,  and  stretches  himself  upon  the  class,  and  finds  no  life  come.  And  he 
alone  knows  how  cheerless  and  hopeless  and  slavish  is  the  dull  routine  of  his 
labors  after  that.  There  are,  it  seems  to  me,  few  modes  of  gaining  a  living  short 
of  actual  villainy,  which  a  man  of  sensibility  would  not  orefer  tp  it. 

FEMALE    EDUCATION. 

Address  at  Anniversary  of  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary. 

Important  as  female  education  is  now  admitted  to  be,  it  is  not  perhaps  surpris 
ing  that  it  did  not  receive  early  attention.  Men  attack  evils  as  they  find  them, 
without  first  investigating  secret  influences  and  remote  causes.  It  was  natural, 
for  instance,  that  intemperance  should  first  be  attacked  as  it  existed  in  the  intem 
perate,  before  it  was  traced  back  to  its  source  in  temperate  drinking.  And  so  it 
was  natural  that  mankind  should  first  attempt  to  control  the  waters  of  society  as 
they  found  them  flowing  on,  impetuous  and  turbid,  before  tracing  them  up  to 
their  source  and  purifying  the  springs  from  which  they  flowed. 

This  attempt  has  been  made  from  the  beginning  and  is  still  made.  It  is  not 
even  yet  understood  how  true  it  is,  in  the  body  politic  as  well  as  in  the  natural 
body,  that  "  if  one  member  suffer,  all  the  members  suffer  with  it,"  that  if  one  por 
tion  of  the  community  be  enslaved,  or  oppressed,  or  degraded,  there  will  be  sown 


380  MARK  HOPKINS. 

indirectly  the  seeds  of  vice,  of  debility,  and  of  ultimate  dissolution ;  and  espec 
ially,  that  if  those  who  hold  to  us  the  relations  of  wives,  and  mothers,  and  daugh 
ters,  and  sisters,  are  restricted,  or  eramped,  or  in  any  way  prevented  from 
receiving  that  expansion  of  the  intellect  and  of  the  affections  which  will  enable 
them  to  exert  an  elevating  and  a  purifying  influence  upon  man,  society  can  not 
reach  its  full  stature  and  perfection.  It  is  not  understood  how  high  those  qualities 
of  the  intellect  and  of  the  heart  are,  which  are  needed  for  the  right  management 
of  the  young,  how  much  light  and  how  much  love  must  shine  around  the  opening 
bud  of  early  childhood  that  it  may  expand  in  fair  proportions  ;  it  is  not  understood 
how  early  the  ductile  material  of  character  begins  to  grow  rigid,  so  that  before  the 
age  of  eight,  or  even  of  six,  it  generally  assumes  lineaments  to  which  subsequent 
life  only  serves  to  give  greater  prominence.  In  forming  that  material,  man  can 
not  do  what  ought  to  be  done,  he  can  not  undo  what  will  be  done  by  a  mother 
who  is  ignorant  or  weak,  or  selfish  or  unprincipled  ;  and  whatever  influence  ho 
may  wish  to  exert,  will  be  far  more  efficient  if  he  has  the  cooperation  of  one  who 
can  enter  fully  into  all  his  views — just  as  the  oak  will  cast  a  shade  that  is  deeper 
and  more  refreshing  if  the  vine  that  adorns  it  mingles  its  leaves  with  those  of 
every  branch,  and  entwines  itself  to  the  topmost  bough. 

But  these  truths  are  beginning  to  be  understood  and  felt,  and  there  are  proba 
bly  more  persons  now  than  ever  before,  who  feel  that  if  we  are  ever  to  do  any 
thing  effectual  for  the  improvement  of  society,  the  proper  place  to  begin  at  is  the 
beginning — that  the  influence  that  presides  over  the  cradle,  and  the  nursery,  and 
the  fireside,  must  be  a  right  influence. 

EDUCATION    IN    CONNECTION    WITH    NATURE    AND    RELIGION. 

Address  at  Missionary  Jubilee,  1856. 

No  service  can  be  rendered  to  education  so  great  as  to  bring  it  into  a  closer 
and  more  vital  connection  with  religion,  and  through  that,  with  some  form  of 
great  and  heroic  action.  But  the  educating  power  of  an  institution  is  not  solely 
from  what  that  institution  is  at  any  given  moment — from  its  buildings,  its  appara 
tus,  its  libraries,  its  teachers  ;  it  also  lies  much  in  the  influences  of  nature  and  of 
society  around  it ;  in  the  memories  of  the  past,  and  in  its  connection  with  great 
interests  and  events.  No  man  worth  educating,  ever  passed  through  this  Col 
lege  without  being  in  part  educated  by  these  great  mountains.  Grey  lock  is  an 
educator.  They  are  of  a  style  and  an  order  of  architecture  that  is  very  ancient, 
and,  though  they  cost  nothing,  are  worth  more  than  any  ever  devised  by  man. 
We  do  not  wish  to  educate  merely  the  intellect,  but  also  the  moral  nature;  to 
control  the  associations  and  to  reach  the  springs  of  action.  Surely  there  must  be 
a  legitimate  use  of  association  in  education,  not  superstitious  or  idolatrous  5  and 
we  wish  to  associate  literature  and  science  with  all  that  is  beautiful  and  grand  in 
nature,  and  all  that  is  pure  and  elevating  in  religion.  We  wish  to  link  in  minds 
of  the  highest  culture,  sentiments  of  veneration  and  honor  with  humble  prayer, 
and  with  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ.  Oh,  sir,  if  this  could  but  be,  if  indo 
lence  and  vice  could  but  be  banished  from  this  College,  if  there  could  be  here 
two  hundred  and  twenty  young  men,  fully  receiving  the  influences  of  nature 
which  God  has  spread  around  them,  and  fully  yielding  themselves  to  the  power 
of  that  religion  which  he  has  revealed,  I  would  not  exchange  my  position  for  any 
one  upon  earth. 

ACADEMIES. 

Dedication  of  Williston  Seminary,  1841. 

If  this  institution  prepares  better  teachers  for  the  common  schools,  they  will 
send  back  to  it  scholars  better  pivpan-d,  and  it  may  be  able,  after  a  time,  to  relin 
quish  to  the  common  school  some  of  its  branches,  and  to  elevate  its  own  course. 
If,  again,  it  sends  scholars  to  college  better  fitted,  college,  to  say  nothing  of  other 
and  indirect  benefits,  will  send  back  to  it  better  instructors,  and  may,  in  its  turn, 
be  able  to  relinquish  to  it  some  part  of  it"  course.  This  process  has,  indeed,  gone 
on  to  some  extent  within  my  remembrance,  but  it  needs  to  go  much  farther.  I 
see  no  other  way  in  which  our  general  system  of  education  can  be  elevated.  We 
need,  and  must  have,  institutions  like  this,  which  shall  give  a  thorough  prepara- 
t  on  for  college  in  the  English  as  well  as  classical  department,  and  which  shall 


MARK  HOPKINS.  381 

not  only  be  thorough  as  far  as  they  go,  but  shall  carry  the  student  much  farther 
than  he  now  goes  in  them.  I  see  no  difficulty  in  it,  and  I  hope  to  see  the  day 
when  almost  all  that  is  now  studied  in  the  freshman  class  in  college,  especially  in 
languages,  shall  be  required  for  admission,  and  shall  be  thoroughly  taught  in 
schools  like  this.  This  would  relieve  the  colleges  from  the  heavy  load  they  are 
obliged  to  drag  when  the  classes  are  poorly  prepared,  and  would  give  them  time, 
not  only  to  be  more  full  and  thorough  in  their  present  branches  of  science,  but  to 
introduce  new  ones  as  the  wants  of  the  age  may  require. 

MEDICAL    SCIENCE. 

Address  to  Medical  Class  at  Pittsfield,  1840. 

The  principal  of  life  then,  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  science  of  medicine  ; 
but  it  is  to  be  studied  as  manifested  in  this  wonderful  range  of  productions  only 
by  the  physician  ?  Certainly  not.  We  might  as  well  say  that  no  one  should 
study  the  science  of  music  except  those  whoso  business  it  is  to  repair  musical  in 
struments.  In  its  regular  manifestations  the  principle  of  life  presents  itself  as  one 
of  the  great  principles  of  nature,  inviting  equally  with  gravitation,  or  light,  or 
magnetism,  or  electricity,  the  study  of  every  liberal  and  inquiring  mind.  This  I 
know  has  not  been  so  regarded,  but  it  is  coming  to  be  so  more  and  more.  It 
ought,  at  least,  to  enter  somewhat  largely  into  every  course  of  liberal  education, 
and  I  trust  that  in  one  college  at  least,  more  will  be  done  with  reference  to  it 
than  has  been  done. 

On  this  point  physicians  themselves  have  perhaps  been  in  fault,  or  at  least  have 
misjudged.  They  have  been  inclined  to  regard  the  whole  domain  as  their  own, 
and  to  publish  books,  especially  on  human  physiology,  solely  for  the  use  of  the 
profession.  This,  however,  has  been  much  less  the  case  within  the  last  few  years, 
and  the  change  can  not  fail  to  be  advantageous  both  to  the  public  arid  to  the  pro 
fession.  It  will  be  advantageous  to  the  public,  because,  by  giving  them  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  laws  of  health,  which  are  nothing  more  than  the  conditions  on  which 
the  principle  of  life  will  act  with  regularity,  much  disease  will  be  prevented  ;  and 
it  will  be  of  advantage  to  the  profession,  because  it  will  furnish  the  only  possible 
guard  against  the  prevalence  of  quackery,  which  is  found  to  deposit  its  eggs  and 
mature  its  growth  upon  ignorance  alone.  Nor  would  it  encroach  upon  the  proper 
province  or  science  of  the  physician,  if  the  whole  of  physiology  were  well  under 
stood  by  the  community  ;  for  though  the  principle  of  life  lies  at  the  foundation 
of  the  science  of  the  physician,  yet  if  it  were  like  gravitation,  and  never  irregular 
in  its  action,  there  would  be  no  physicians  or  science  of  medicine.  The  laws  of 
life  manifested  in  regular  action  ought  to  be  understood  by  every  body,  so  far 
at  least  as  is  necessary  to  preserve  health.  It  is  only  as  it  manifests  itself  in  dis 
eased  action,  that  the  principle  of  life  lies  at  the  foundation  of  medical  science. 
Diseased  action,  and  the  means  of  controlling  it — diseases  and  remedies — these 
are  the  appropriate  subjects  of  the  study  of  the  physician. 

As  a  prerequisite  to  the  knowledge  of  diseases,  anatomy  and  physiology  are 
necessary ;  to  the  knowledge  of  remedies,  chemistry  and  botany.  No  physician 
can  be  fully  qualified  to  practice  his  profession  unless  he  is  acquainted  with 
these  sciences  ;  and  the  field  of  observation  and  of  general  cultivation  to  the  mind 
which  they  open  is  so  wide,  that  from  its  connection  with  them,  if  from  nothing 
else,  the  profession  of  medicine  would  be  entitled  to  the  rank  of  a  liberal 
profession . 

THEOLOGICAL    EDUCATION. 

Address  before  Porter  Rhetorical  Society ,  Andover,  1837. 

In  its  literal  signification,  and  in  its  highest  character,  the  Gospel  is  good  tidings  ; 
and  it  is  the  grand  business  of  those  who  preach  it,  to  commend  it  as  worthy  of 
all  acceptation  to  them  that  are  lost.  Nothing  can  compensate  in  a  preacher  for 
the  want  of  a  heartfelt  conviction  of  the  ruin  of  man,  and  that  the  Gospel  is  the 
all-sufficient  and  the  only  remedy  ;  and  nothing  can  excuse  him  if  he  do  not  urge 
the  acceptance  of  this  remedy  upon  his  fel low-men  with  his  utmost  force  of  intel 
lect  and  energy  of  feeling.  His  appropriate  office  is  to  preach  the  Gospel  of 
peace,  to  bring  glad  tidings  of  good  things,  to  stand  as  an  ambassador  for  Christ, 
and  to  beseech  men  in  his  stead  to  be  reconciled  to  God. 


382  MARK  HOPKINS. 

But  though  this  is  the  chief,  it  is  not  the  only  relation  which  the  preacher  holds 
to  society,  for,  us  the  light  of  the  sun  not  only  reveals  to  us  the  azure  depths  from 
which  it  comes,  but  also  quickens  vegetation  into  life  and  spreads  a  mantle  of 
beauty  over  the  earth,  so  does  the  Gospel  of  Christ  not  only  reveal  our  relations 
to  God  and  the  heaven  which  is  to  be  our  home,  but  it  is  spread  over  all  the  social 
relations,  and  is  an  essential  element  in  the  production  of  that  moral  verdure 
without  which  society  would  be  a  waste.  Where  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
shines,  the  whole  soil  is  meliorated.  The  hemlock  and  the  night-shade  grow  less 
rankly,  the  natural  affections  expand  more  fully  and  shed  a  sweeter  fragrance, 
and  the  seed  sown  bears  fruit  fur  this  life  as  well  as  for  that  which  is  to  come. 
The  system  which  the  preacher  advocates  is  therefore  not  isolated  and  arbitrary  ; 
it  is  not  a  foreign  and  discordant  mass,  thrown  into  society  and  fitted  only  to  be  a 
source  of  terror  to  some,  of  rid  cule  to  others,  and  a  curse  to  all ;  but  it  has  rela 
tions  to  the  works  of  God,  to  the  social  and  political  well-being  of  man,  to  the 
secret  thoughts  and  hidden  structure  as  well  as  to  the  future  destiny  of  the  soul. 
It  is  only  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  pure  Christianity  that  social  man  can  attain  his 
true  stature.  In  this  he  moves  and  respires  freely  ;  while  every  other  system  is 
like  an  atmosphere  more  or  less  deprived  of  its  vital  principle,  and  lies  like  an 
atmosphere  more  or  less  deprived  of  its  vital  principle,  and  lies  like  an  oppressive 
and  suffocating  weight  upon  him.  As  well  then  may  the  natural  philosopher  rest 
satisfied  with  his  knowledge  of  the  literal  atmosphere  as  the  breath  of  life,  and 
disregard  its  connection  with  vegetation,  and  its  use  in  evaporating  water  and 
reflecting  light  and  conveying  sound  and  facilitating  commerce,  as  may  the  stu 
dent  of  Christianity  consider  it  simply  in  its  relation  to  another  world,  without 
regarding  its  connection  with  the  works  of  God,  and  its  present  influence  on  the 
well-being  of  society. 

OBJECTIONS    TO    COLLEGES, 

Inaugural  Discourse,  1836. 

And  first,  it  is.  objected  that  colleges  destroy  physical  vigor.  There  has,  no 
doubt,  been  ground  for  this  objection.  From  its  local  situation,  this  college  has 
probably  suffered  less  in  this  way  than  some  others,  and  there  has  been  here, 
especially  of  late,  comparatively  little  failure  of  the  health.  Something  has  been 
done,  but  there  is  still  room  for  improvement.  It  ought,  however,  no  more  to  bo 
expected  that  the  student  should  have  the  same  robustness  of  frame  and  muscular 
vigor  as  the  laboring  man,  than  that  the  laboring  man  should  have  the  same  intel 
lectual  cultivation  as  the  student.  But  the  truth  is  that  students,  in  common 
with  other  classes  of  the  community,  not  only  do  not  exercise  enough,  but  they 
live  in  the  constant  violation  of  all  the  rules  of  dietetics.  Some  have  used,  and 
still  use,  intoxicating  drinks;  a  much  larger  number  use  tobacco  ;  some  are  con 
stantly  eating  dried  fruits  and  various  kinds  of  confectionery ;  many  eat  too  much  ; 
many  sit  up  late  under  the  excitement  of  novel  reading,  and  perhaps  fur  study. 
Let  their  food  be  of  proper  quantity  and  quality,  let  them  avoid  poisonous  and 
narcotic  substances,  let  them  keep  regular  hours,  and  shun  the  predominence  of 
an  excited  or  polluted  imagination ;  and  they  will  find  that  there  is  an  elasticity 
in  the  human  frame  that  requires  exercise.  Nor  need  it  be  aimless  exercise. 
Let  them  saw  their  own  wood,  let  botany  and  mineralogy  lead  them  over  the 
hills,  let  them  cherish  a  love  of  fine  prospects,  let  them  cultivate  the  taste  and 
manly  spirit  that  have  originated  and  carried  forward  so  happily  in  this  college, 
the  horticultural  and  landscape  gardening  association  ;  and  there  will  be  cheeks 
as  fresh,  and  limbs  as  agile,  and  animal  spirits  as  buoyant,  as  if  they  spent  three 
hours  a  day  in  a  workshop,  ;md,  (which  would  be  tuvcssary  in  some  of  our  insti 
tutions,)  as  if  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  were  expended  to  enable  them  to  do  some 
thing  useful.  It  has  been  a  fault,  which  I  trust  will  be  avoided  here,  that  this 
subject  has  not  been  sufficiently  urged  upon  students  in  the  early  part  of  their 
course. 

Again ;  it  is  objected  that  colleges  arc  not  practical.  There  are  some  who 
weem  to  be  slow  in  understanding  what  is  meant  by  the  discipline  of  the  mind,  or 
mental  training,  as  if  it  were  different  in  its  principle  from  a  military  drill,  in 
which  a  series  of  actions  is  performed,  not  so  much  for  its  own  sake  as  a  prepara 
tion  for  the  future  battle.  It  is  true  the  discipline  must  be  such  as  will  fit  them 
for  the  combat.  We  must  not  put  bows  and  arrows  into  their  hands  when  they 


MARK  HOPKINS.  383 

will  have  to  use  the  cartridge-box  and  the  musket — but  discipline  there  must  be. 
We  are  indeed  to  consult  utility,  but  it  must  be  in  its  highest  and  broadest  senso 
— not  that  eager  utility  which  would  cut  down  the  tree  for  the  sake  of  sooner 
getting  its  fruit,  its  unripe  fruit ;  but  that  far-sighted  utility,  which  would  plough 
a  crop  under  for  the  sake  of  benefiting  the  soil,  and  which  would  look  forward  to 
the  coincidence  of  its  plans  with  the  high  purposes  of  God  in  the  creation  of  man. 
But  if  there  are  any  who  never  make  a  distinction  between  general  and  profes 
sional  education,  who  look  upon  man  solely  as  a  being  who  is  to  be  fitted  to  make 
money  in  some  particular  sphere,  and  not  as  one  who  has  faculties  to  be  perfected, 
to  them  I  have  nothing  to  say. 

Again  ;  it  is  objected  that  colleges  do  not  keep  up  with  the  spirit  of  the  age. 
This  objection  probably  does  not  always  assume  a  definite  form  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  make  it.  But  if  it  be  intended  that  improvements  in  the  sciences  are 
not  ingrafted,  as  they  are  made,  upon  the  scientific  courses,  or  that  new  science? 
are  not  introduced  as  the  wants  of  the  public  demand  5  if  it  be  intended  that  there 
is  an  adherence  to  things  that  are  old  because  they  are  old — then,  however  much 
ground  there  may  have  been  for  the  charge  formerly,  and  especially  in  England, 
from  which  this  complaint  is  mostly  imported,  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  ground 
for  it  now.  It  is  within  the  memory  of  our  older  graduates  that  chemistry,  and 
geology,  and  mineralogy,  and  botany,  and  political  economy,  were  either  not 
taught  at  all,  or  scarcely  at  all,  in  the  college  course.  These  have  been  intro 
duced  as  fast  as  the  sciences  have  become  so  mature  as  to  furnish  good  text 
books  5  and  now  if  the  public  will  furnish  us  the  means,  we  shall  be  glad  to  intro 
duce  more  of  modern  languages,  and  something  on  constitutional  law,  which  we 
intend  to  introduce,  and  perspective,  and  civil  engineering. 

Again  ;  it  is  objected  to  colleges  that  they  are  aristocratic.  Besides  those  who 
form  no  theory  of  society,  there  are  two  classes  who  would  be  thought  to  aim  at 
the  perfection  and  perpetuity  of  republican  institutions,  but  their  methods  are 
directly  opposite.  The  one  can  conceive  of  no  improvement  except  by  leveling 
every  thing  down — and  probably  there  always  will  exist  in  every  community  a 
sediment  of  such  people,  whose  uneasy  malignity,  manifesting  itself  in  a  pre 
tended  zeal  for  republicanism,  nothing  but  a  return  of  society  to  a  savage  state 
could  satisfy.  The  other  class  do  what  they  can  to  level  up.  And  if  there  be 
one  of  these  who  imagines  that  colleges  are  not  cooperating  with  him,  it  is  because 
he  is  entirely  ignorant  of  the  facts.  Must  men  be  told  at  this  day  that  the  diffu 
sion  of  knowledge  is  the  only  safety  of  republican  institutions  1  Or  are  they  igno 
rant  that  without  higher  seminaries  the  lower  can  never  be  sustained  in  any 
efficiency  1  Or  that  if  there  were  not  some  institutions  like  colleges,  to  make 
education  cheap,  we  should  soon  have  an  aristocracy  of  knowledge  and  refine 
ment  as  well  as  of  wealth?  On  this  subject  there  is  a  mistake  in  regard  to  two 
points.  One  respects  the  class  of  persons  who  go  to  college.  While  a  portion 
of  these  are  sons  of  wealthy  men,  the  great  mass  are  the  sons  of  clergymen,  and 
farmers,  and  tradesmen,  who  feel  that  an  education  is  the  best  patrimony  they 
can  bestow  upon  their  children,  and  who  are  unable  to  give  them  even  that, 
unless  they  assist  themselves  in  part  by  teaching.  The  most  of  those  therefore 
who  graduate  at  our  colleges  spend  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  time,  either  be 
fore  or  after  graduating,  in  teaching,  and  thus  diffusing  the  blessings  of  general 
education.  The  other  point  on  which  there  is  a  mistake,  respects  the  real  extent 
to  which  the  cost  of  education  is  diminished.  At  this  college  a  young  man  re 
ceives  instruction,  and  has  the  use  of  the  buildings,  and  library,  and  apparatus, 
and  cabinet,  and  pays  the  college  but  about  thirty-three  dollars  a  year.  The 
whole  necessary  expense  per  annum  is  less  than  one  hundred  dollars  ;  a  sum 
quite  insufficient  to  maintain  a  boy  in  a  common  family  school.  Tn  addition  to 
this,  we  have  funds  bestowed  by  benevolent  individuals,  which  enable  us  to  ap 
propriate  something  to  meet  the  bills  of  those  who  promise  to  be  useful  but  are 
not  able  to  pay  so  much.  Still  the  whole  expense  is  greater  than  is  desirable,  and 
if  our  funds  would  permit  it  we  would  gladly  make  it  less.  It  thus  that  the  poor 
man  who  has  no  farm  to  give  his  son,  can  give  him  an  education,  which,  if  he  is 
a  suitable  person  to  be  educated,  is  better.  Pie  is  thus  enabled  to  start  fairly  in 
the  race  of  competition  with  the  sons  of  the  wealthy.  In  a  class  in  college,  each 
is  on  a  perfect  equality  with  the  rest,  and  must  stand  on  his  own  merits  ;  and  if 
the  son  of  the  rich  should  happen  to  have  the  advantage  in  previous  training,  he 
may  yet  find  that  he  will  have  as  much  as  lie  will  care  to  do  to  maintain  it  in  the 


384  MARK  HOPKINS. 

Geld  of  open  competition  ;  and  often  when  lie  does  bis  best,  much  more  if  he  be 
come  vain  or  frivolous  or  self- indulgent,  will  he  find  himself  left  behind  by  the 
stern  efforts  of  those  who  feel  that  they  must  depend  on  themselves  alone. 
Surely  he  who  would  tax  and  cripple  colleges,  \\ould  tax  and  depress  general 
education,  and  keep  down  the  people. 

The  last  objection  against  colleges  which  I  shall  notice,  comes  from  another 
quarter,  and  is,  that  they  do  not  teach  manners.  And  it  must  be  confessed  that 
this  is  not  one  of  those  things  for  which  we  give  a  diploma.  Good  manners  cer 
tainly  ought  to  exist  and  to  be  acquired  in  colleges,  and  more  ought  to  be  dono 
on  this  point  than  is  done.  Still  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  which  will  be 
appreciated  by  every  sensible  man.  In  the  first  place,  manners  can  not  be  taught 
by  direct  inculcation  ;  they  must  mainly  depend  on  parents  and  on  associates 
during  the  earlier  years  of  life.  Again,  many  of  those  who  come  to  college  are 
of  such  an  age  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  remodel  their  manners  entirely  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances.  They  seem  to  have  lost  the  power,  which 
indeed  some  never  had,  of  perceiving  the  difference  between  the  easy  intercourse 
of  good  fellowship  which  is  consistent  with  self-respect  and  respect  toward  others, 
and  a  coarse  familiarity  which  is  consistent  with  neither.  There  is  further  a  sen 
timent  often  prevalent  among  young  men,  than  which  no  mistake  could  be 
greater,  that  manners  are  of  little  importance,  anfl  that  to  be  slovenly  and  slouch 
ing,  and  perhaps  well  nigh  disrespectful,  is  a  mark  of  independence.  But  after 
all,  college  is  not,  in  some  respects,  a  bad  place  to  wear  off"  rusticity  and  break 
down  timidity.  And  if  those  who  make  the  complaint  could  see  the  transforma 
tion  and  improvement  which  really  take  place  in  many,  I  may  say  in  most 
instances,  in  a  college  course,  they  would  perhaps  wonder  that  so  much  is  accom 
plished,  rather  than  complain  that  there  is  so  little.  Still,  when  a  young  man 
comes  with  a  frame  of  granite  rough  from  the  mountains,  or  as  rough  as  if  he 
came  from  them,  and  has  seen  perhaps  nothing  of  polite  society,  and  knows  noth 
ing  of  polite  literature,  it  can  not  be  expected  that  he  should  learn  during  his 
college  course  the  manners  of  the  drawing-room,  or  the  arbitrary  forms  of  fash 
ionable  etiquette.  If  he  shall  possess,  as  pt-rhaps  such  men  oftenest  do,  that 
higher  form  of  politeness  which  consists  in  respecting  the  feelings  of  others  and 
consulting  their  happiness,  and  we  can  send  him  into  the  world  with  a  sound 
head  and  a  warm  heart  to  labor  for  the  good  of  the  world,  we  shall  be  satisfied, 
and  the  world  ought  to  be  thankful.  Such  men  often  become  the  pillars  of 
society. 

EMOTIONS    OF    TASTE    MODIFIED    BY    OUR    VIEWS    OF    GOD. 

Lecture — Connection  between  Taste,  and  Morals. 

And  if  the  emotions  of  taste  are  thus  modified  by  our  views  of  man,  how  much 
more  must  they  be  by  those  respecting  God  !  How  must  a  blank  atheism  hang 
the  heavens  in  sackcloth,  and  cover  the  earth  with  a  pall,  and  turn  the  mute 
promisings  of  nature  into  a  mockery,  and  make  of  her  mighty  fabric  one  great 
charnel-house  of  death  without  the  hope  of  a  resurrection  !  On  the  other  hand, 
how  must  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  nature  and  of  the  universe  be  hightened, 
the  moment  we  perceive  them  in  their  connection  with  God  !  Nothing  is  more 
common  than  to  hoar  those,  who  emerge  from  that  practical  atheism  in  which 
most  men  live,  speak  of  the  new  perceptions  of  beauty  and  sublimity  with  which 
they  look  upon  the  works  of  nature. 

All  our  investigations  into  nature  show  that  man  has  no  faculties  to  which  there 
are  not  corresponding  and  adequate  objects.  As  infinite  as  he  is  in  reason,  yet 
the  works  of  God  are  not  exhausted  by  the  operations  of  that  reason  :  no  intellectual 
Alexander  ever  sat  down  and  wept  for  the  want  of  more  worlds  to  conquer.  As 
vast  as  is  his  imagination,  the  revelations  of  astronomy,  as  sober  facts,  go  beyond 
any  thing  that  the  imagination  had  conceived.  And  is  it  so,  that,  in  the  region 
of  taste  alone,  the  faculties  of  man  have  no  Adequate  ohji-ct  ?  But  it  is  only  when 
nature,  like  the  Bible,  is  seen  to  be  full  of  God,  that  she  is  clothed  with  her  true 
sublimity.  It  is  only  when  "  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firm 
ament  showeth  his  handy  work,"  that  they  correspond  to  the  highest  conceptions 
either  of  the  taste  or  of  the  intellect.  Man  rests  in  the  Infinite  alone,  and  the 
universe  without  a  God  is  not  in  harmony  with  his  constitution,  even  when  he  is 
considered  as  endowed  with  taste  only.  But  if  our  views  on  moral  subjects  thus 
modify  the  emotions  of  taste,  it  can  not  be  doubted  that  those  emotions  react  upon 
our  moral  views,  tending  to  elevate  and  purify  them. 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

AN  ADDRESS  BEFORE  A  MEETING  OF  COLLEGE    PRESIDENTS   AT  SPRINGFIELD,  ILL. 

BY    REV.   JAMBS    H.    FAIRCHILD,    D.  D.,    OF    OBERLIN    COLLEGE,    JULY    10TH,    1867. 


MR.  PRESIDENT,  AND  GENTLEMEN  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION: 

THE  invitation  extended  to  me  by  your  Executive  Committee,  to 
share  in  your  deliberations  upon  this  question,  was  based  upon  the 
fact  of  my  connection  with  a  school  in  which  the  system  of  educa 
tion  under  discussion  has  been  in  operation  for  many  years  ;  and  it 
was  intended  that  I  should  present  the  subject  in  the  light  of  that 
experience.  It  seems  more  fitting  to  confine  myself  to  arrangements 
and  results  at  Oberlin,  stated  descriptively  and  historically,  than  to 
attempt  any  general  discussion  of  the  subject — a  work  more  appro 
priate  to  the  members  of  the  Association. 

That  I  may  speak  without  restraint  upon  these  matters,  it  is 
proper  for  me  to  say  that  I  entered  the  College  as  a  boy  at  its  open 
ing,  and  served  seven  years  as  a  pupil  before  entering  upon  the 
responsibilities  of  a  member  of  its  board  of  instruction.  Thus  I 
appear  before  you  as  one  of  the  children  of  the  school,  and  not  one 
of  the  fathers,  and  shall  not  seem  to  speak  of  the  work  of  my  own 
hands,  as  I  claim  no  personal  responsibility  for  the  wisdom  or  folly 
of  the  arrangement. 

Oberlin  College  is  now  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  its  life,  and 
from  the  beginning  has  embraced  among  its  pupils  b.oth  young  men 
and  young  women.  The  first  year  it  was  a  high  school,  with  some 
thing  over  a  hundred  pupils,  more  than  one-third  of  whom  were 
ladies :  not  a  local  school,  for  the  enterprise  started  in  the  woods, 
and  one-half  of  the  students  at  least  were  from  New  England  and 
New  York.  The  second  year  the  numbers  increased  to  nearly  300, 
with  theological  and  college  classes  in  full  operation,  the  ladies  being 
about  one-fourth  of  the  whole.  In  two  or  three  years  the  numbers 
reached  500,  and  maintained  that  annual  average  until  1852,  when 
the  number  was  suddenly  doubled,  and  has  averaged  more  than  a 
thousand  yearly  for  the  last  fifteen  years.  The  proportion  of  young 
ladies  has  not  for  many  years  fallen  below  one-third,  nor  risen  above 
one-half,  except  during  the  war,  when  the  ladies  predominated  in 
the  ratio  of  five  to  four.  The  last  Annual  Catalogue  gives  655 

365 


£86  COEDUCATION  OF  TIIL  SEXES. 

gentlemen  and  490  ladies,  and  this  is  about  the  normal  proportion. 
These  are  young  men  and  women  of  such  ages  as  the  advanced 
schools  of  the  land  generally  present. 

The  town  began  with  the  school  and  has  kept  pace  with  it,  con 
taining  at  present  from  3,000  to  4,000  inhabitants.  At  first,  almost 
all  the  accommodations  for  the  students  in  room  and  board  were 
furnished  by  the  College.  The  dormitory  system  was  adopted  for 
both  young  men  and  young  women,  separate  halls  or  buildings 
being  assigned  to  each — the  ladies'  hall  being  also  a  boarding-hall, 
in  which  seats  at  table  were  provided  for  young  men.  As  the  num 
bers  increased  and  the  dwellings  in  the  village  were  improved  and 
multiplied,  the  students  were  to  a  o-reater  extent  provided  for  among 
the  families,  until  at  present  far  the  greater  number  are  thus  fur 
nished  with  homes.  Our  present  ladies'  hall  affords  rooms  for  about 
100  young  ladies,  and  sittings  at  table  for  about  220  boarders. 
Large  boarding-houses  are  not  found ;  but  a  majority  of  families 
that  have  room  receive  a  few  students.  The  young  ladies  find  their 
homes  under  this  arrangement  as  well  as  the  young  men.  Some 
families  receive  young  ladies  only  ;  but  families  are  permitted,  with 
suitable  arrangements,  to  receive  both  classes.  The  entire  female 
department  is  under  the  immediate  charge  of  a  lady  Principal,  and 
her  assistant ;  and  these  are  occupied,  not  with  teaching,  to  any 
considerable  extent,  but  with  the  care  and  supervision  of  the  young 
ladies,  their  classification  and  general  culture.  These  principals 
communicate,  as  occasion  may  require,  with  the  matrons  of  the 
families  where  the  young  ladies  board.  The  special  discipline  of 
the  young  ladies  is  committed  to  the  lady  Principal,  assisted  by  a 
'Ladies'  Board  of  Managers,'  composed  in  general  of  wives  of  pro 
fessors  in  the  college.  The  advice  of  the  College  Faculty  is  some 
times  taken,  but  the  young  ladies  do  not  come  before  them  for  spe 
cial  discipline.  The  regulations  of  the  school,  for  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  are  intended  to  be  addressed  to  the  good  sense  and  per 
sonal  responsibility  of  the  pupil.  We  have  no  monitors,  but  each 
one  makes  a  weekly  report  of  success  or  failure  in  the  performance 
of  prescribed  duties:  young  ladies  boarding  in  families  have  their 
report  countersigned  by  the  matron  of  the  house,  who  is  in  a  degree 
responsible  for  the  conduct  of  her  charge.  The  ladies'  hall  is  the 
headquarters  of  the  female  department,  where  the  Principal  receive* 
all  the  ladies  for  general  instruction  and  for  personal  advice. 

Throughout  the  literary  departments  the  classes  consist  of  young 
men  and  young  women,  taken  indiscriminately,  as  their  studies  cor 
respond.  The  larger  numbers  of  both  sexes  are  found  in  our  Pre- 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  337 

paratory  Department — a  department  which  embraces,  besides  those 
preparing  for  the  regular  courses,  a  large  number  that  study  for  a 
more  limited  time.  This  department  is  under  the  charge  of  a  gen 
tleman  Principal,  whose  strength  is  expended  chiefly  upon  oversight, 
classification,  and  discipline,  and  an  associate  Professor  of  Lan 
guages,  who  gives  himself  to  the  teaching  of  the  advanced  classes  in 
Latin  and  Greek.  The  other  classes  in  this  department  are  taught 
by  successful  pupils  (gentlemen  and  ladies)  from  the  higher  depart 
ments.  After  the  Preparatory  Department,  we  have  two  courses 
open  to  young  ladies — the  *  Ladies'  Course,'  and  the  regular  *  Col 
lege  Course.'  The  Ladies'  Course  is  a  course  of  four  years,  requir 
ing,  as  conditions  of  entering,  a  good  elementary  English  education, 
and  a  year's  study  of  Latin.  It  embraces  all  the  studies  of  the 
regular  College  course,  omitting  all  the  Greek  and  most  of  the  Latin, 
omitting  also  the  Differential  and  Integral  Calculus,  and  adding 
lessons  in  French  and  Drawing,  and  some  branches  of  natural  science. 
Those  pursuing  this  course  recite  with  the  college  classes  in  the 
same  studies.  Separate  classes  are  organized  for  the  ladies  in  essay- 
writing  until  the  commencement  of  the  third  year,  when  they  are 
added  to  the  Junior  College  class  in  this  exercise.  Their  training 
in  this  department  is  limited  to  reading  and  writing,  none  of  the 
ladies  having  any  exercise  in  speaking.  The  great  majority  of  our 
young  ladies  pursue  this  course,  and  it  was  supposed  at  the  organi 
zation  of  the  school  that  nothing  farther  would  be  required  for 
them;  but  in  1837  four  young  ladies  prepared  themselves  for  the 
Freshman  class,  and  were  received  upon  their  own  petition.  Since 
that  time  it  has  been  understood  that  the  College  Course  is  open  to 
young  ladies,  and  we  have  always  had  more  or  less  in  the  classes: 
sometimes  the  proportion  of  ladies  to  gentlemen  in  the  course  has 
been  as  high  as  one  to  four ;  at  present  it  is  one  to  ten.  We  have 
observed  no  special  tendency  to  an  increase  in  this  proportion  ;  for 
the  last  three  years  there  has  been  a  diminution.  The  ladies  in  this 
course  are  under  the  same  general  regulations  and  discipline  as  in 
the  other  course,  and  are  responsible  to  the  lady  Principal.  At  the 
termination  of  their  course  they  receive  the  regular  degree  in  the. 
Arts.  Eighty-four  ladies  have  received  this  degree,  and  three  hundred 
and  ninety-five  have  received  the  diploma  of  the  Ladies'  Course. 

The  Theological  Department  has  never  been  opened  to  ladies,  as 
regular  members.  Two  young  ladies  attended  upon  all  the  exer 
cises  of  the  department  through  a  three-years  course,  and  were 
entered  upon  the  Annual  Catalogue  as  '  resident  graduates  pursuing 
the  Theological  course.'  This  was  nearly  twenty  years  ago,  and  we 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

have  Lad  no  applications  since.  Doubtless  the  same  privileges 
would  be  afforded  as  formerly. 

The  association  of  gentlemen  and  ladies  out  of  the  class-room  is 
regulated  as  experience  seems  to  require.  They  sit  at  the  same 
table  in  families  and  in  the  Ladies'  Hall.  Young  gentlemen  call  on 
ladies  in  a  social  way  at  the  parlors  of  the  Ladies'  Hall  and  of  pri 
vate  families,  between  the  hour  for  tea  and  half-past  seven  in  the 
winter,  and  eight  o'clock  in  the  summer.  They  walk  in  groups 
from  one  class-room  to  another,  as  convenience  and  their  sense  of 
propriety  may  dictate,  with  the  help  of  a  suggestion,  if  needed,  from 
thoughtful  and  observing  friends.  Now  and  then  the  young  ladies 
have  permission  to  attend  an  evening  lecture  given  under  the  aus 
pices  of  the  College,  and  in  such  case  to  accept  the  attendance  of 
young  men.  No  such  association  is  permitted  in  the  case  of  reli 
gious  meetings.  Tli^y  do  not  ride  or  walk  together  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  village,  except  on  a  holy  day,  under  special  arrange 
ments.  There  is  no  association  of  the  sexes  in  literary  societies,  or 
other  voluntary  and  independent  organizations. 

It  seemed  necessary  to  give  this  detail  of  arrangements,  that  the 
conditions  upon  which  the1  solution  of  the  problem  has  been  con 
ducted  with  us  may  be  fully  understood.  In  speaking  of  results,  I 
wish  to  be  understood  as  giving  not  merely  my  own  individual 
judgment,  but  the  unanimous  opinion,  so  far  as  I  understand  it,  of 
all  who  have  had  responsibility  in  connection  wjth  the  school.  If 
there  has  been  any  diversity  of  sentiment  on  the  subject,  it  has  been 
unknown  to  me.  Others  might  choose  different  terms  in  which  to 
express  their  opinions,  but  I  shall  endeavor  to  make  no  statement 
from  which  I  suppose  that  any  one  of  those  that  are  or  have  been 
associated  in  this  work  would  dissent. 

Among  the  advantages  which  seem  to  be  involved  in  the  system, 
as  we  have  observed  its  operation,  arc  the  following : 

1.  Economy  of  means  and  forces.  The  teaching  force  and 
other  apparatus  required  in  all  the  higher  departments  of  study  is 
made  available  to  a  larger  number.  In  most  Western  Colleges  the 
higher  classes  might  be  doubled  without  any  detriment,  and  often 
with  great  advantage.  Scarce  any  one  of  these  schools  has  had 
larger  classes  than  our  own,  and  yet  only  once  or  twice  have  we  had 
occasion  to  make  two  divisions  in  any  college  class,  including  the 
ladies  pursuing  the  same  study.  In  the  preparatory  department, 
classes  must  be  multiplied  on  account  of  numbers  ;  but  in  the 
higher  departments  of  instruction,  where  the  chief  expense  is  in 
volved,  the  expense  is  no  greater  on  account  of  the  presence  of 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  389 

ladies.  If  a  separate  establishment  were  attempted  for  ladies, 
affording  the  same  advantages,  the  outlay  in  men  and  means  would 
haver  to  be  duplicated ;  or,  as  would  often  happen,  the  force  would 
have  to  be  divided,  and  the  advantages  as  well.  Of  course,  if  there 
were  obvious  disadvantages  in  the  arrangement,  the  argument  from 
economy  would  have  essentially  no  weight.  We  must  have  the 
best  system  of  higher  education  at  any  necessary  cost. 

2.  Convenience  to  the  patrons  of  the  school.     It  has  been  a  matter 
of  interest  with  us  to  note  the  number  of  cases  in  which  a  brother  is 
accompanied  or  followed  by  a  sister,  or  a  sister  by  a  brother.     I  can 
not  give  exact  statements  upon  this  point ;  but  it  is  an  interesting 
and  prominent  feature  in  our  operations.     This  is  most  convenient 
and  wholesome ;  each  is  safer  from  the  presence  of  the  other;  and 
the  inducements  to  attend  school,  to  the  one  or  the  other,  are  in 
creased  by  the  possibility  of  having  each  other's   company.     The 
want  and  tendency  in  this  direction  are  shown  in  the  fact  that  in 
the  vicinity  of  every  flourishing  college,  opened  for  young  men  only, 
a  ladies'  school,  equally  flourishing,  is  almost  sure  to  be  established, 
requiring  afterward  a  good  degree  of  vigilance  to  keep  apart  those 
who  have  thus  naturally  come  together. 

3.  Another  advantage  we  find  in  the  wholesome  incitements  to 
study  which  the  system  affords.     This  is  a  want  in  all  schools,  pro 
vided  for  often  by  a  marking  and  grading  system  involving  a  distri 
bution  of  honors  and  prizes.     An  acknowledged  defect  in  this  plan, 
not  to   speak  of  any  thing  unwholesome  in   the  spirit  of   rivalry 
which  it  induces,  is  in  the  fact  that  it  appeals  to  comparatively  few 
in  a  class.     The   honors  are  few,   and  the   majority  soon   cease  to 
strive  for  them.     The  social  influence  arisino-  from  the  constitution 

O 

of  our  classes  operates  continuously  and. almost  equally  upon  all. 
Each  desires  for  himself  the  best  standing  that  he  is  capable  of,  and 
there  is  never  a  lack  of  motive  to  exertion. 

It  will  be  observed,  too,  that  the  stimulus  is  the  same  in  kind  as 
will  operate  in  after  life.  The  young  man,  going  out  into  the  world, 
does  not  leave  behind  him  the  forces  that  have  helped  him  on. 
They  are  the  ordinary  forces  of  society,  and  require  no  new  habits 
of  thought  or  action  in  order  to  their  effective  operation.  We  have 
introduced  a  marking  system  into  the  recitation-room,  pertaining 
solely  to  the  performance  there,  and  used  for  the  information  of 
teachers  and  guardians,  and  the  pupil  himself:  not  for  the  assign 
ment  of  grade  or  distribution  of  honors,  or  for  any  publication 
whatsoever.  We  rely  upon  the  natural  love  of  a  fair  standing  with 
teachers  and  associates  as  the  supplement  to  the  higher  motives  for 
exertion,  and  have  not  found.it  a  vain  reliance. 


390  COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

4.  Again,  the  social  culture  which  is  incidental  to  the  system  is 
a  matter  of  no  small  importance.  To  secure  this  the  student  does 
not  need  to  make  any  expenditure  of  tune,  going  out  of  his  way, 
or  leaving  his  proper  work  for  the  pleasure  or  improvement  result 
ing  from  society.  He  finds  himself  naturally  in  the  midst  of  it,  and 
he  adjusts  himself  to  it  instinctively.  It  influences  his  manners,  his 
feeling,  and  his  thought.  lie  may  be  as  little  conscious  of  the 
sources  of  the  influence  as  of  the  sunlight  or  the  atmosphere;  it  will 
envelope  him  all  the  same,  saving  him  from  the  excessive  introver 
sion,  the  morbid  fancies,  the  moroseness,  which  sometimes  arise  in 
secluded  study,  giving  him  elasticity  of  spirits,  and  ease  of  move 
ment,  and  refinement  of  character,  not  readily  attained  out  of 
society.  It  seems  desirable  that  our  young  men  especially  should 
enjoy  these  advantages  during  the  period  of  their  course  of  study, 
while  the  forces  that  form  character  work  most  efficiently. 

6.  Closely  connected  with  thjs  influence  is  the  tendency  to 
good  order  which  we  find  in  the  system.  The  ease  with  which  the 
discipline  of  so  large  a  school  is  conducted  has  not  ceased  to  be  a 
matter  of  wonder  to  ourselves.  One  thousand  students  are  gath 
ered  from  every  state  in  the  Union,  from  every  class  in  society,  of 
every  grade  of  culture — the  great  mass  of  them,  indeed,  bent  on 
improvement,  but  numbers  sent  by  anxious  friends  with  the  hope 
that  they  may  be  saved  or  recovered  from  wayward  tendencies. 
Yet  the  disorders  incident  to  such  gatherings  are  essentially  un 
known  among  us.  Our  streets  are  as  quiet  by  day  and  by  night  as 
in  any  other  country  town.  There  are  individual  cases  of  misde 
meanor,  especially  among  the  new  comers,  and  now  and  then  one  is 
informed  that  his  probation  has  been  unsatisfactory  ;  but  in  the 
regularly  organized  classes  of  the  College  and  Ladies'  Departments, 
numbering  from  two  to  four  hundred  in  constant  attendance,  the 

O 

exclusions  have  not  on  the  average  exceeded  one  in  five  years,  and 
in  one  instance  a  period  of  more  than  ten  years  elapsed  without  a 
single  exclusion  from  these  classes.  This  result  we  attribute  greatly 
to  the  wholesome  influence  of  the  system  of  joint  education.  The 
student  feels  that  his  standing  and  character  are  of  grave  conse 
quence  to  him,  and  he  is  predisposed  to  take  a  manly  attitude  in 
reference  to  the  government  and  regulations  of  the  school.  An 
admonition  in  the  presence  of  the  students  assembled  in  the  chapel 
has  always  been  more  dreaded  by  an  offender  than  a  private  dismis. 
sion.  Offenses  against  propriety,  that  in  a  body  of  young  men  form 
ing  a  separate  community  would  seem  to  be  trivial,  change  their 
aspect  when  the  female  element  is  added  to  the  community ;  and 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  391 

that  better  view  adds  greatly  to  the  force  of  wholesome  regulations. 
From  the  beginning,  the  use  of  tobacco  has  been  prohibited  to  our 
students.  In  the  presence  of  ladies  the  regulation  has  a  force  and 
significance  that  could  not  be  otherwise  secured,  and  has  been  main 
tained  with  a  good  degree  of  success.  College  tricks  lose  their  wit 
and  attractiveness  in  a  community  thus  constituted.  They  are 
essentially  unknown  among  us.  There  are  no  secret  societies,  and, 
so  far  as  I  know,  there  has  been  no  tendency  toward  them.  The 
relations  of  the  classes  to  each  other  are  comfortable  and  desirable. 
With  a  sufficient  degree  of  class  feeling  to  give  unity  and  collective 
force,  there  is  an  entire  absence  of  the  antagonisms  which  some 
times  appear  in  college  life.  It  may  be  a  mistake  to  attribute  this 
fact  in  any  degree  to  the  social  constitution  of  the  school,  but  it 
seems  to  me  to  be  a  natural  result.  The  general  force  of  the  society 
controls  and  limits  the  clannish  tendency.  We  have  had  no  diffi 
culty  in  reference  to  conduct  and  manners  in  the  college  dining- 
hall.  There  has  been  an  entire  absence  of  the  irregularities  and 
roughnesses  so  often  complained  of  in  college  commons. 

6.  Nor  can  it  be  reasonably  doubted  that  the  arrangement  tends 
to  good  order  and   morality  in  the  town   outside   of  the  school. 
Evils  that  might  be  tolerated,  in  the  shape  of  drinking-saloons  and 
other  places  of  dissipation,  if  young  men  only  were  present,  seem 
intolerable  where  ladies  are  gathered  with  them.     The  public  senti 
ment  requires  their  suppression.     Of  course,  this  influence  alone 
would  not  be  sufficient ;  but  it  increases  and  intensifies  the  moral 
forces  of  the  place  which  withstand  their* introduction. 

7.  Another  manifest  advantage  is  in  the  relations  of  the  school 
to  the  community — a  cordial  feeling  of  good  will,  and  the  absence 
of  that    antagonism   between   town  and  college  which  in  general 
belongs  to  the  history  of  universities  and  colleges.     The  absence  of 
disorder  in  the  school  is  the  prime  condition  of  this  good  feeling; 
but  !>eyond  this,  the  constitution  of  the  school  is  so  similar  to  that 
of  the  community  that  any  conflict  is  unnatural :  the  usual  occasion 
seerns  to  be  wanting. 

8.  It  can  hardly  be   doubted  that  young  people  educated  under 
sucli  conditions  are  kept  in  harmony  with  society  at  large,  and  are 
prepared  to  appreciate  the  responsibilities  of  life,  and  to  enter  upon 
its  work.     They  will  not  lack  sympathy  with  the  popular  feeling,  or 
an  apprehension  of  the  common  interests.     They  are  naturally  edu 
cated  in  relation  with  the  work  of  life,  and  will  not  require  a  read 
justment.     This  seems  a  matter  of  grave  importance,  and  we  can 
scarcely  be  mistaken  as  to  the  happy  results  attained.     If  we  are 


292  COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

not  utterly  deceived  by  our  position,  our  students  naturally  and 
readily  find  their  work  in  the  world,  because  they  have  been  trained 
in  sympathy  with  the  world. 

These  are  among  the  advantages  of  the  system  which  have  forced 
themselves  upon  our  attention.  The  list  might  be  extended  and 
expanded;  but  you  will  wish  especially  to  know  whether  we  have 
not  encountered  disadvantages  and  difficulties  which  more  than 
counterbalance  these  advantages,  and  you  will  properly  require  me 
to  speak  with  all  frankness  upon  those  difficulties  which  are  com 
monly  apprehended. 

1.  Have  young  ladies  the  ability  in  mental  vigor  and  bodily 
health  to  maintain  a  fair  standing  in  a  class  with  young  men?  Do 
they  not  operate  as  a  check  upon  the  progress  of  the  class,  and  de 
grade  the  standard  of  scholarship?  and  do  they  not  break  down  in 
health  under  a  pressure  which  young  men  can  sustain  I 

To  this  inquiry  I  answer,  where  there  has  been  the  same  prepar 
atory  training,  we  find  no  difference  in  ability  to  maintain  them 
selves  in  the  recitation  room.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  shall  be 
excused  for  referring  to  my  own  individual  experience,  which  has 
been  somewhat  varied.  The  first  eight  years  of  my  work  as  a 
teacher  was  in  the  department  of  the  Ancient  Languages — Latin, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew  ;  the  next  eleven,  in  Mathematics,  abstract  and 
applied  ;  the  last  eight,  in  Philosophical  and  Kthical  studies.  In 
all  these  studies  my  classes  have  included  young  women  as  well  as 
young  men,  and  I  have  never  observed  any  difference  between  them 
in  performance  in  the  recitation.  The  strong  and  the  weak  scholars 
are  equally  distributed  between  the  sexes. 

In  this  statement  I  do  not  imply  that  I  see  no  difference  between 
the  normal  male  and  female  mind  as  to  taste  for  particular  studies. 
I  have  no  doubt  of  the  existence  of  such  differences ;  but  they  do 
not  appear  in  the  ability  as  pupils  to  comprehend  and  express  the 
truth.  A  few  days  since,  on  a  visit  to  the  University  of  Michigan, 
I  attended  a  recitation  in  Thucydides.  So  far  as  could  be  judged 
from  a  single  exercise,  in  which  there  were  many  excellent  perform 
ances,  the  daughter  of  the  Professor  of  Greek,  the  only  young  lady 
under  the  wing  of  the  University,  led  the  class.  But  it  did  not 
strike  me  as  an  anomaly;  I  had  often  seen  such  things. 

Nor  is  there  any  manifest  inability  on  the  part  of  young  women 
to  endure  the  required  labor.  A  breaking  down  in  health  does  not 
appear  to  be  more  frequent  than  with  young  men.  We  have  not 
observed  a  more  frequent  interruption  of  study  on  this  account ; 
nor  do  our  statistics  show  a  greater  draft  upon  the  vital  forces  in 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  333 

the  case  of  those  who  have  completed  the  full  college  course.  Out 
of  eighty -four  young  ladies  who  have  graduated  since  1841,  seven 
have  died — a  proportion  of  one  in  twelve.  Of  three  hundred  and 
sixty-eight  young  men  who  have  graduated  since  that  date,  thirty- 
four  are  dead,  or  a  little  more  than  one  in  eleven.  Of  these  thirty- 
four  young  men,  six  fell  in  the  war ;  and  leaving  those  out,  the 
proportion  of  deaths  still  remains  one  to  thirteen.  Taking  the  whole 
number  of  gentlemen  graduates,  omitting  the  Theological  Depart 
ment,  we  find  the  proportion  of  deaths  one  to  nine  and  a-half;  of 
ladies,  one  to  twelve :  and  this  in  spite  of  the  lower  average  expect 
ation  of  life  for  women,  as  indicated  in  life  insurance  tables.  The 
field  is,  of  course,  too  narrow  for  perfectly  conclusive  results;  but 
there  is  no  occasion  for  special  apprehension  of  failure  of  health  to 
ladies  from  study. 

2.  But  it  is  held  by  many  that  ladies  need  a  course  of  study 
adapted  to  their  nature  and  their  prospective  work,  and  that  it  must 
be  undesirable  to  bring  them  under  the  same  training  with  young 
men.  The  theory  of  our  school  has  never  been  that  men  and  wo 
men  are  alike  in  mental  constitution,  or  that  they  naturally  and 
properly  occupy  the  same  position  in  the  work  of  life.  The  educa 
tion  furnished  is  general,  not  professional,  designed  to  fit  men  and 
women  for  any  position  or  work  to  which  they  may  properly  be 
called.  Even  in  the  full  college  curriculum  it  does  not  appear  that 
there  is  any  study  that  would  not  be  helpful  in  the  discipline  and 
furniture  of  an  educated  lady.  But  only  a  small  proportion  of  young 
ladies  seeking  an  education  will  naturally  require  the  full  college 
course.  It  is  not  difficult  to  frame  a  suitable  course  parallel  with 
the  college  course,  made  up  substantially  of  studies  selected  from 
it,  and  diversified  by  the  addition  of  the  accomplishments  supposed 
to  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  female  culture.  Almost  every  Western 
college  has  a  scientific  course,  involving  these  substantial  elements. 
The  best  schools  in  the  land  for  the  education  of  ladies  alone  have 
the  same  course.  We  do  not  find  that  any  peculiar  style  of  teach 
ing  is  required  to  adapt  these  studies  to  female  culture.  The 
womanly  nature  will  appropriate  the  material  to  its  own  necessities 
under  its  own  laws.  Young  men  and  women  sit  at  the  same  table 
and  partake  of  the  same  food,  and  we  have  no  apprehension  that 
the  vital  forces  will  fail  to  elaborate  from  the  common  material  the 
osseous  and  fibrous  and  nervous  tissues  adapted  to  each  frame  and 
constitution.  Except  under  pressure  of  great  external  violence,  the 
female  nature  asserts  itself  by  virtue  of  its  own  inherent  laws.  No 
education  can  make  alike  those  whom  God  has  made  as  unlike  as 
men  and  women. 


O',i  t  COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

3.  Vet  apprehension  is  felt  and  expressed  that  character  will 
deteriorate  on  one  side  or  on  the  other;  that  young  men  will 
become  frivolous  or  effeminate,  and  young  women  coarse  and  mas 
culine.  The  more  prevalent  opinion  seems  to  be  that,  while  the 
arrangement  may  be  desirable  in  its  effect  on  young  men,  it  will  be 
damaging  to  young  women.  That  young  men  should  become  tri 
fling  or  effeminate,  lose  their  manly  attributes  and  character,  from 
proper  association  with  cultivated  young  women,  is  antecedently 
improbable,  and  false  in  fact.  It  is  the  natural  atmosphere  for  the 
development  of  the  higher  qualities  of  manhood — magnanimity, 
generosity,  true  chivalry,  earnestness.  The  animal  man  is  kept  sub 
ordinate,  in  the  prevalence  of  these  higher  qualities.  We  have 
found  it  the  surest  way  to  make  men  of  boys,  and  gentlemen  of 
rowdies.  It  must  be  a  very  poor  specimen  of  masculine  human 
nature  that  is  not  helped  by  the  association,  and  a  very  poor  speci 
men  of  a  woman  that  does  not  prove  a  helper.  In  my  judgment, 
as  the  result  of  experience,  the  chances  are  better  even  for  the  poor 
specimen. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  are  not  womanly  delicacy  and  refinement 
of  character  endangered  ?  Will  not  the  young  woman,  pursuing 
her  studies  with  young  men,  take  on  their  manners  and  aspirations 
and  aims,  and  be  turned  aside  from  the  true  ideal  of  womanly  life 
and  character  ?  The  thing  is  scarcely  conceivable.  The  natural 
response  of  woman  to  the  exhibition  of  manly  traits  is  in  the  cor 
relative  qualities  of  gentleness,  delicacy,  and  grace.  It  might  better 
be  questioned  whether  the  finer  shadings  of  female  character  can 
be  developed  without  this  natural  stimulus.  If  you  would  transform 
a  woman  into  an  Amazon  or  virago,  take  her  apart  from  well- 
constituted  society,  and  train  her  in  isolation  to  a  disgust  for  men, 
and  a  rough  self-reliance.  You  will  probably  fail  even  thus  in  your 
endeavor ;  but  it  is  the  only  chance  of  success. 

But  it  is  my  duty  not  to  reason,  but  to  speak  from  the  limited 
historical  view  assigned  me.  You  would  know  whether  the  result 
with  us  has  been  a  large  accession  to  the  numbers  of  coarse,  '  strong- 
mi  mU-d '  women,  in  the  offensive  sense  of  the  word ;  and  I  say, 
without  hesitation,  that  I  do  not  know  of  a  single  instance  of  such 
a  product  as  the  result  of  our  system  of  education.  It  is  true  that 
in  our  'Triennial'  are  found  the  names  of  three  somewhat  distin 
guished  lady  lecturers,  who  are  some  times  referred  to  as  belonging 
to  this  class.  They  pursued  their  studies  at  Oberlln  from  four  to 
five  years  in  each  case.  But,  whatever  their  present  position  and 
character  may  be,  I  have  personal  knowledge  of  the  iaot  that  they 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  395 

came  to  us  very  mature  in  thought,  with  their  views  of  life  settled 
and  their  own  plans  and  purposes  determined  and  announced. 
Whatever  help  in  their  chosen  life  they  derived  from  the  advanta 
ges  afforded  them,  they  have  never  given  us  any  credit  for  their 
more  advanced  views  of  woman's  rights  and  duties.  While  avowing 
a  radical  dissent  from  those  views,  I  qan  not  forbear  to  say  that  I 
am  happy  to  number  these  ladies  among  my  friends,  and  to  express 
my  admiration  of  much  that  is  noble  and  womanly  in  their  charac 
ter,  and  of  their  earnest  but  mistaken  philanthropy. 

To  show  that  our  system  of  education  does  not  bewilder  woman 
with  a  vain  ambition,  or  tend  to  turn  her  aside  from  the  work  which 
God  has  impressed  upon  her  entire  constitution,  I  m;iy  state  that  of 
the  eighty-four  ladies  that  have  taken  the  college  course,  twenty- 
seven  only  are  unmarried.  Of  these  twenty -seven,  four  died  early, 
and  of  the  remaining  twenty-three,  twenty  are  graduates  of  less 
than  six  years'  standing.  The  statistics  of  the  graduates  of  the 
Ladies'  Course  would  give  essentially  the  same  result.  There  may 
be  an  apparent  indelicacy,  perhaps,  in  parading  such  private,  domes 
tic  facts ;.  but  the  importance  of  the  question  upon  which  they  bear 
will  vindicate  the  propriety. 

4.  But  this  view  does  not  touch  the  exact  point  of  the  diffi 
culty.  It  is  in  general  admitted  that  the  association  of  young  men 
and  v^oineu,  under  proper  conditions,  is  elevating  instead  of  degrad 
ing,  but  there  is  doubt  whether  bringing  them  together  in  a  school 
provides  for  these  proper  associations.  The  wholesome  association 
of  the  young  requires  the  presence  and  influence  of  those  who  are 
mature  and  have  experience  and  a  sense  of  responsibility, — more 
of  the  family  influence  than  can  be  secured  in  a  large  school.  Is 
there  not  danger  that  young  men  and  young  women  thus  brought 
together  in  the  critical  period  of  life,  when  the  distinctive  social 
tendencies  which  draw  the  sexes  toward  each  other  seem  to  act 
with  greatest  intensity,  will  fail  of  that  necessary  regulative  force 
and  fall  into  undesirable  and  unprofitable  relations?  Will  not  such 
associations  result  in  weak  and  foolish  love  affairs,  and  in  such 
habits  of  communication  and  social  life  as  lead  to  these  and  grow  out 
of  them. 

It  is  not  strange  that  such  apprehensions  are  felt,  nor  would  it  be 
easy  to  give  an  a  priori  answer  to  such  difficulties;  but,  if  we  may 
judge  from  our  experience,  the  difficulties  are  without  foundation. 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  expressing  the  conviction  that  in  the  asso 
ciations  of  our  young  people  there  is  as  little  of  this  undesirable 
element  as  is  found  in  any  general  society.  The  danger  in  this 


396  COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES. 

direction  results  from  excited  imagination, — from  the  glowing  exag 
gerations  of  youthful  fancy  ;  and  the  best  remedy  is  to  displace 
these  fancies  by  every-day  facts  and  realities.  The  young  man  shut 
out  from  the  society  of  ladies,  with  the  help  of  the  high-wrought 
representations  of  life  which  poets  and  novelists  afford,  with  only  a 
distant  vision  of  the  reality,  is  the  one  who  is  in  danger.  The 
•women  whom  he  sees  are  glorified  by  his  fancy, 'and  are  wrought 
into  his  day-dreams  and  night-dreams  as  beings  of  supernatural 
lowliness.  It  would  be  different  if  he  met  them  day  by  day  in  the 
recitation-room,  in  a  common  encounter  with  an  algebraic  problem, 
or  at  the  table  sharing  in  the  common  want  of  bread  and  butter. 
There  is  still  room  for  the  fancy  to  work,  but  the  materials  for  the 
picture  are  more  reliable  and  enduring.  Such  association  does  not 
take  all  the  romance  out  of  life,  but  ii  gives  as  favorable  conditions 
for  sensible  views  and  actions  upon  these  delicate  questions  as  can 
be  afforded  to  human  nature. 

There  is  another  danger  to  which  the  young  man  is  exposed 
greater  even  than  this  of  a  too  high-colored  ideal  of  female  charac 
ter.  It  is  too  low  an  estimate,  springing  from  his  own  sensual  ten 
dencies,  and  darkened  by  a  dash  of  misanthropy  which  is  one  of 
the  most  common  experiences  of  the  young.  Such  an  ideal 
degrades  the  one  who  indulges  it,  and  mars  his  whole  conception  of 
life.  No  greater  misfortune  can  befall  a  young  man  than  to  admit 
to  his  heart  such  a  misconception.  It  can  spring  up  only  in  an 
isolated  life,  apart  from  the  society  of  the  pure  and  the  good.  It 
is  good  for  a  young  man  to  face  the  facts,  and  let  his  dreams  go, 
whether  bright  or  dark.  In  the  presence  of  these  facts,  he  will  con 
ceive  and  maintain  a  genuine  respect  for  women  as  worthy  of  his 
confidence  and  regard,  which  will  save  him  from  amorous  follies  on 
the  one  side,  and  from  a  degrading  misanthropy  on  the  other. 
There  may  be,  here  and  there,  displays  of  these  weaknesses  of 
youth;  and  where  are  there  not?  Among  hundreds  of  the  young, 
such  weak  ones  must  be  found ;  but  it*  there  is  any  more  potent 
corrective  than  the  public  sentiment  of  such  a  company  of  young 
people  of  ordinary  good  sense,  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  it. 

Of  course  there  is  room  for  the  wisdom  which  comes  from  expe 
rience  in  regulating  the  associations  of  such  a  school.  The  danger 
seems  to  be  in  both  extremes,  of  too  great  strictness  and  restraint 
and  too  great  laxity,  as  in  all  forms  of  school  discipline.  Those 
who  have  observed  the  pressure  against  restrictions,  where  there  is 
an  attempt  to  prohibit  intercourse,  sometimes  imagine  that  any 
letting-up  would  prove  fatal  to  all  order  and  propriety.  They  would 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  397 

probably  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  sense  of  propriety  and  self- 
respect  of  their  pupils  would  prove  a  surer  reliance  than  any  arti 
ficial  barriers  imposed  from  without.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
important  that  the  intercourse  of  the  young  people  be  regulated  by 
such  restrictions  as  the  good  sense  of  the  community  will  justify — 
not  minute  and  arbitrary,  in  an  attempt  to  meet  all  deficiencies  of 
taste  and  judgment,  and  forestall  every  conceivable  impropriety,  but 
comprehensive  and  suggestive,  expanded  as  occasion  may  require  in 
familiar  and  practical  suggestions  from  principal  or  teacher.  It  is 
desirable  that  the  intercourse  of  the  school  be  easy  and  natural,  not 
fettered  at  every  step  by  some  restriction.  The  government  of  our 
school  would  be  impossible,  except  as  approved  and  sustained  by  the 
great  body  of  the  pupils.  It  would  be  easy,  but  extremely  unwise, 
to  surrender  this  stronghold  in  the  endeavor  to  fortify  ourselves  by 
artificial  barriers. 

The  experience  of  the  Friends  in  this  country  in  the  management 
of  their  schools  is  instructive.  For  many  years  they  have  had 
boarding-schools  at  the  East  and  the  West,  to  which  they  sent  both 
their  sons  and  their  daughters,  but  intended  to  allow  no  association 
between  them  in  the  schools.  They  found  the  undertaking  too 
great.  Walls  could  not  be  built  that  would  entirely  separate  them. 
Within  two  or  three  years  the  policy  has  been  changed  and  the 
walls  removed,  and,  as  I  am  informed,  with  the  happiest  results.  A 
regulated  association  becomes  easy  now  which  was  impossible 
before. 

5.  But  will  not  the  young  people  form  such  acquaintances  as 
will  result,  during  their  course  of  study  or  after  they  leave  school, 
in  matrimonial  engagements?  Undoubtedly  they  will;  and  if  this 
is  a  fatal  objection,  the  system  must  be  pronounced  a  failure.  The 
majority  of  young  people  form  such  acquaintances  between  the  ages 
of  sixteen  and  twenty-four,  and  these  are  the  years  devoted  to  a 
course  of  study.  It  would  be  a  most  unnatural  state  of  things  if 
such  acquaintances  should  not  be  made  in  a  school  where  young 
men  and  young  women  are  gathered  in  large  numbers ;  nor  is  it  to 
be  expected  that  marriage  engagements  even  will  not  be  formed 
more  or  less  frequently.  Now  and  then  it  may  occur  th'it  parties 
will  seem  to  have  left  school  for  the  purpose  of  consummating  such 
an  engagement.  The  reasonable  inquiry  in  the  case  is,  whether 
such  acquaintances  and  engagements  can  be  made  under  circum 
stances  more  favorable  to  a  wise  and  considerate  adjustment,  or 
more  promising  of  a  happy  result.  Are  the  circumstances  such  as 
naturally  to  promote  hasty  and  ill-assorted  marriages?  If  the  sys- 


898  COEDUCATION  OF  THE  FEXES 

torn  were  to  stand  or  fall  by  this  one  test,  its  friends  would  have  no 
occasion  to  apprehend  the  result. 

6.  But  what  security  is    there   that  positive  immoralities  may 
not  at  times  oecur,  and  startling  scandals  even,  that  shall  shock  the 
community  and  produce  distrust  of  the  system  ?     Of  course,  such  a 
thing  might  be  ;  but  it  would  scarce  be  logical  to  condemn  the  sys 
tem  on  the  ground  of  such  possibilities  or  even   actualities.     The 
only  pertinent  inquiry  is  whether  such   immoralities  are  the  more 
natural  and  frequent  product  of  this  than  of  other  systems.     Is  the 
moral  atmosphere  of  the  best  and  most  approved  Eastern  college* 
perfectly  free  from  every  taint  of  impurity  ?     Is  the  propriety  of 
the  best-ordered  and   most  carefully-guarded  female  seminary  not 
liable  to  be  broken  in  -upon  by  a  sporadic  offense  of  this  character? 
Such  liabilities  go  everywhere  with  fallen  human  nature ;  and  it  has 
not  been  shown  that  the  monastic  institutions  of  either  ancient  or 
modern  times  have  afforded  perfect  security  upon  this  point.    There 
may  have  been  a  time  when  one  such  scandal  in  a  school  for  joint 
education  would  have  brought  reproach  upon  the  system  and  over 
whelmed  it  with  popular  disgust.     A  generation  of  successful  trial, 
under  a  sheltering  Providence,  should  have  won  for  it  the  impartial 
judgment  which  is  the  right  of  every  system. 

7.  But  is  this  method  adapted  to  schools  in  general,  or  is  the 
success  attained  at  Oberlin  due  to  peculiar  features  of  the  school 
and  of  the  place,  which  can   rarely  be  found  or  reproduced  else 
where?     This  idea  is  not  an  unnatural  one,  and  is  somewhat  preva 
lent.     It  is  true,  we  have   bee'n  favored  with  some  special  advan 
tages.     The  place  and  the  school  were  founded  together — a  Christian 
enterprise,  with  a  common   aim.     From   the  beginning,  the  great 
interest  of  the  place  has  been  the  school.     The  religious  earnestness, 
in  which  the  enterprise  had  its  birth,  has  been  in  some  good  degree 
maintained,  securing  a  unity  of  interest  and  of  action  very  rare  in 
the  history  of  schools  and  of  communities.     The  habits  of  the  com 
munity  have  in  a  good  degree  taken  their  shape  from  the  necessi 
ties  of  the  school,  and  there  is  a  very  general  and  heartv  interest  in 
all  that  pertains  to  its  welfare.     On  the  other  hand,  the  village  has 
increased  until   its  population   numbers  nearly  4000 — a  population 
gathered  from   all    parts  of  the   country,  with   a  colored  element 
amounting  perhaps  to  one-fifth  of  the  whole,  of  every  grade  of  cul 
ture  and  of  want  of  culture,   not  in   any  proper  sense  a  disturbing 
element,  but  precluding  that  perfect  homogeneity  of  thought  and 
life  embraced  in  the  popular  idea  of  Oberlin  society.     Our  students. 
too,  have  been  so  numerous  as  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  the 


COEDUCATION  OF  THE  SEXES.  399 

close  personal  supervision  attainable  in  a  smaller  school ;  and  while 
we  have  had  occasion  to  congratulate  ourselves  on  their  general 
character,  their  earnest  endeavors  after  improvement  and  usefulness, 
still  they  are  essentially  like  the  pupils  in  other  schools  at  the  West 
between  the  parallels  which  embrace  the  New-England  emigration, 
with  the  addition  of  the  colored  element,  varying  from  five  to  seven 
per  cent,  of  the  whole. 

The  experiment  was  commenced,  too,  by  those  who  had  had  no 
experience  in  such  a  school,  who  had  to  feel  their  way  through  the 
various  questions  involved  in  its  organization  and  arrangement. 
Thus,  with  the  special  advantages  of  our  position,  there  have  been 
some  special  difficulties. 

But  the  experiment  at  Oberlin,  if  the  earliest,  is  by  no  means  the 
only  one.  At  least  a  score  of  schools  have  sprung  up  that  have 
adopted  essentially  the  same  plan,  and  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  there 
has  been  any  other  than  a  uniform  result  in  the  convictions  of  those 
who  have  best  understood  these  movements.  There  are  doubtless 
advantages  in  entering  upon  the  plan  at  the  organization  of  a  school 
instead  of  introducing  it  into  a  college  already  in  existence.  The 
usual  style  of  college. life,  the  traditional  customs  and  habits  of 
action  and  of  thought,  are  not  suited  to  a  school  where  ladies  are 
gathered  as  well,  and  the  changes  required  might  occasion  difficulty 
at  the  outset,  and  peril  the  experiment.  On  this  point  I  have  no 
experience;  but  I  have  such  confidence  in  the  inherent  vitality  and 
adaptability  of  the  system,  that  I  should  be  entirely  willing  to  see 
it  subjected  to  this  test. 

In  concluding  this  statement,  permit  me  to  say  that  I  have  no 
special  call  as  an  apostle  or  propagandist  of  this  system  of  educa 
tion.  The  opinions  set  forth  are  such  as,  with  my  limited  expe 
rience,  I  am  compelled  to  cherish,  and  when  called  upon,  as  now,  I 
cheerfully  express  them. 


400  OBERLIN  COLLEGE. 


NOTE. 

OBERLIN  COLLEGE,  and  OBERLIN  as  a  settlement  or  town,  originated  in  the 
deep  religious  convictions  of  the  founders  of  both,  which  had  been  awakened 
and  confirmed  in  the  ''revivals"  of  1830,  and  the  few  years  following.  The 
author  of  the  pl.in  of  the  "Collegiate  Institute,"  on  the  manual  labor  system, 
and  the  '•  Covenant,"  under  which  a  tract  of  land  three  miles  square,  and  com 
prising  about  eight  thousand  acres,  was  purchased  in  Lorain  County,  at  t ho  low 
rate  of  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  per  acre,  was  Rev.  John  J  Shipherd.  while  he 
was  p-istor  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in  Elyria  in  1832.  Associated  with  him, 
in  public  and  private  prayer  and  effort,  was  Mr.  P.  P.  Stewart,  a  retired  mis 
sionary  among  the  Cherokees  in  Mississippi,  then  residing  in  Mr.  Shipherd's 
family.  The  early  colonists  and  students,  deeply  imbued  with  the  religious 
spirit  which  the  preachings  of  Rev.  Charles  Finney  h;id  awakened,  entered  on 
the  enterprise  with  missionary  zeal,  "lamenting  the  degeneracy  of  the  Church, 
and  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  perishing  world,  and  ardently  desirous  of 
bringing  both  under  the  influence  of  the  blessed  gospel  of  peace"  and  "of  glori 
fying  God  in  doing  good  to  men  to  the  extent  of  their  ability."  Assum'ng  the 
name  of  the  French  pastor  and  educator  of  the  retired  parish  of  Walbach,  in  the 
Ban  de  la  Roche,  they  have  achieved,  within  the  period  measured  by  that  pastor's 
labors,  an  educational  success,  and  made  their  principles  and  practices  felt  in 
the  political  and  ethical,  as  well  as  the  educational  questions  of  the  day,  to  an 
extent  which  Oberlin  never  aspired  to. 

The  land  was  bought  in  1832 — the  first  log  cabin  on  the  tract,  by  no  means 
inviting  for  settlement,  was  built  in  April,  1833,  and  the  first  college  building 
was  extemporized,  out  of  trees  felled  from  the  till  then  untouched  forest;  in  the 
following  summer,  a  church  on  the  Congregational  basis,  but  in  temporary  con 
nection  with  a  Presbytery,  was  gathered  in  September,  and  in  December  a  school 
was  opened  in  "Oberlin  Hall,"  with  thirty  pupils,  which  number  before  the 
close  of  May,  1834,  was  increased  to  one  hundred.  And  thus  was  launched  an 
enterprise  which,  in  little  more  than  thirty  years,  has  grown  into  a  village  and 
township  of  3000  inhabitants,  and  according  to  the  annual  catalogue  of  1 '867-68, 
(of  fifty-six  closely-printed  pages,)  and  an  institution  (no  longer  the  "  Oberlin  Col 
legiate  Institute"  on  the  manual  labor  system,  with  one  undergraduate  student 
pf  Western  Reserve  College  as  teacher,)  known  throughout  the  land  us  OBERLIN 
COLLEGE,  with  an  endowment  of  $160.000,  seven  buildings,  and  twenty  pro 
fessors  and  instructors  laboring  in  a  Theological  Department  with  11  students; 
ft  Go&eye  Department  with  119  students,  9  of  whom  are  ladies  in  a  four  years' 
course ;  a  Scientific  Course  of  three  years,  with  34  students ;  a  Preparatory 
Department  with  484  "gentlemen"  students;  a  Young  Ladies1  Course  of  four 
years,  with  190  students;  and  a  Ladies1  Preparatory  Course  with  294  pupils — 
a  grand  total  of  1134  pupils.  Besides  these  regular  courses,  there  is  a  "Teach 
ers'  Institute"  every  Fall  term,  continuing  about  six  weeks,  in  which  special 
instruction  is  given  to  those  who  propose  to  teach;  a  ''Winter  Vacation 
School,"  under  the  superintendence  of  the  Faculty,  in  optional  studies,  commen 
cing  at  the  close  of  the  Autumn  term ;  and  a  "Conservatory  of  Music,"  under  a 
Professor  fresh  from  the  Conservatory  of  Music  at  Leipzig  in  Saxony.  And  in 
these  thirty  years,  over  15.000  pupils  hnve  been  instructed  to  some  extent  in  its 
various  courses.  [We  shall  return  to  Oberliu. — EJ.] 


IX.  SCHOOLS  FOR  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

BY   JOHN    S.    HART,    LL.   D., 

PRINCIPAL  OP  THE   STATE   NORMAL   SCHOOL  AT  TEENTON,   NEW  JERSEY. 


NORMAL  SCHOOL. 

THE  term  Normal  School  is  an  unfortunate  misnomer,  and  its  general 
adoption  has  led  to  much  confusion  of  ideas.  The  word  "  Normal,"  from 
the  Latin  norma,  a  rule  or  pattern  to  work  by,  does  not  differ  essentially 
Irom  "  Model."  A  Normal  School,  according  to  the  meaning  of  the  word, 
would  be  a  pattern  school,  an  institution  which  could  be  held  up  for  imi 
tation,  to  be  copied  by  other  schools  of  the  same  grade.  But  this  mean 
ing  of  the  word  is  no*  what  we  mean  by  the  thing.  When  we  mean  a 
school  to  be  copied  or  imitated,  we  call  it  a  Model  School.  Here  the  name 
and  the  thing  agree.  The  name  explains  the  thing.  *It  is  very  different 
when  we  speak  of  a  Normal  School.  To  the  uninitiated,  the  term  either 
conveys  no  meaning  at  all ;  or,  if  your  hearer  is  a  man  of  letters,  it  con 
veys  to  him  an  idea  which  you  have  at  once  to  explain  away.  You 
have  to  tell  him,  in  effect,  that  a  Normal  School  is  not  a  Normal  School, 
an  d  then  that  it  is  something  else,  which  the  word  does  not  in  the  least 
describe. 

What  then  do  we  mean  by  a  Normal  School  ?  What  is  the  thing  which 
we  have  called  by  this  unfortunate  name  ? 

A  Normal  School  is  a  seminary  for  the  professional  education  of  teach 
ers.  It  is  an  institution  in  which  those  who  wish  to  become  teachers 
learn  how  to  do  their  work ;  in  which  they  learn,  not  reading,  but  how 
to  teach  reading ;  not  penmanship,  but  how  to  teach  penmanship ;  not 
grammar,  but  how  to  teach  grammar ;  not  geography,  but  how  to  teach 
geography  ;  not  arithmetic,  but  how  to  teach  arithmetic.  The  idea  which 
lies  at  the  basis  of  such  an  institute,  is  that  knowing  a  thing,  and  know 
ing  how  to  teach  that  thing  to  others,  are  distinguishable  and  ver}r  differ 
ent  facts.  The  knowledge  of  the  subjects  to  be  taught,  may  be  gained  at 
any  school.  In  order  to  give  to  the  Teachers'  Seminary  its  full  power, 
and  efficiency,  it  were  greatly  to  be  desired  that  the  subjects  themselves, 
as  mere  matters  of  knowledge,  should  be  first  learned  elsewhere,  before 
entering  the  Teachers'  School.  This  latter  would  then  have  to  do  only 
with  its  own  special  function,  that  of  showing  its  matriculants  how  to 
use  these  materials  in  the  process  of  teaching.  Unfortunately,  we  have 
not  made  such  progress  in  popular  education  as  to  be  able  to  separate 
these  two  functions  to  the  extent  that  is  desirable.  Many  of  those  who 
attend  a  Teachers'  Seminary,  come  to  it  lamentably  ignorant  of  the  oom- 

403 


402  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACUERS. 

mon  branches  of  knowledge.  They  have  consequently  first  to  study  these 
branches  in  the  Normal  School,  as  they  would  study  them  in  any  other 
school.  That  is,  they  have  first  to  learn  the  facts  as  matters  of  knowl 
edge,  and  then  to  study  the  art  and  science  of  teaching  these  facts  to 
others.  Instead  of  coming  with  their  brick  and  mortar  ready  prepared, 
that  they  may  be  instructed  in  the  use  of  the  trowel  and  the  plumb-line, 
they  have  to  make  their  brick  and  mix  their  mortar  after  they  enter  the 
institution.  This  is  undoubtedly  a  drawback  and  a  misfortune.  But  it 
cannot  be  helped  at  present.  All  we  can  do  is  to  define  clearly  the  true 
idea  of  the  Teacher's  School,  and  then  to  work  towards  it  as  fast  and  as 
far  as  we  can. 

A  Normal  School  is  essentially  unlike  any  other  school.  It  has  been 
compared  indeed  to  those  professional  schools  which  are  for  the  study  of 
law,  divinity,  medicine,  mining,  engineering,  and  so  forth.  The  Normal 
School,  it  is  true,  is  like  these  schools  in  one  respect  It  is  established 
with  reference  to  the  wants  of  a  particular  profession.  It  is  a  professional 
school.  But  those  schools  have  for  their  main  object  the  communication 
of  some  particular  branch  of  science.  They  teach  law,  divinity,  medicine, 
mining,  or  engineering.  They  aim  to  make  lawyers,  divines,  physician?, 
miners,  engineers,  not  teachers  of  these  branches.  The  Professor  in  the 
Law  School  aims,  not  to  make  Professors  of  law,  but  lawyers.  The  med 
ical  Professor  aims,  not  to  make  medical  lecturers,  but  practitioners.  To 
render  these  institutions  analogous  to  the  Teachers'  Seminary,  their  pu 
pils  should  first  study  law,  medicine,  engineering,  and  so  forth,  and  then 
sit  at  the  feet  of  their  Gamaliels  to  be  initiated  into  the  secrets  of  the 
Professorial  chair,  that  they  may  in  turn  become  Professors  of  those 
branches  to  classes  of  their  own.  Nor  would  such  a  plan,  if  it  were  pos 
sible,  be  altogether  without  its  value.  It  surely  needs  no  demonstration 
to  prove,  that  in  the  highest  departments,  no  less  than  in  the  lowest, 
something  more  than  knowledge  is  needed  in  order  to  teach.  An  under 
standing  of  how  to  communicate  one's  knowledge,  and  practical  skill  in 
doing  'it,  are  as  necessary  in  teaching  theology,  metaphysics,  languages, 
infinitesimal  analysis,  or  chemistry,  as  they  are  in  teaching  the  alphabet. 
If  there  are  bunglers,  who  know  not  how  to  go  to  work  to  teach  a  child 
its  letters,  or  to  open  its  young  mind  and  heart  to  the  reception  of  truth, 
whose  school-rooms  are  places  where  the  young  mind  and  heart  are 
in  a  state,  either  of  perpetual  torpor,  or  of  perpetual  nightmare,  have 
these  bunglers  no  analogues  in  the  men  of  ponderous  erudition  that 
sometimes  fill  the  Professor's  chair?  Have  we  no  examples,  in  our  high 
est  seminaries  of  learning,  of  men  very  eminent  in  scientific  attainments, 
who  have  not  in  themselves  the  first  elements  of  a  teacher?  who  impart 
to  their  students  no  quickening  impulse  ?  whose  vast  and  towering  knowl 
edge  may  make  them  perhaps  a  grand  feature  in  their  College,  attracting 
to  it  all  eyes,  but  whose  intellectual  treasures,  for  all  the  practical  wants 
of  the  students,  are  of  no  more  use,  than  are  the  swathed  and  buried 
mummies  in  the  pyramid  of  Cheops ! 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS'.  4Q3 

A  Teacher's  Seminary,  if  it  were  complete,  would  include  in  its  curri 
culum  of  study  the  entire  cycle  of  human  knowledge,  so  far  as  it  is  taught 
by  schools.  Our  teachers  of  mathematics  and  of  logic,  of  law  and 
of  medicine,  need  indeed  a  knowledge  of  the  branches  which  they 
are  to  teach,  and  for  this  knowledge  they  do  not  need  a  Teachers' 
Seminary.  But  they  need  something  more  than  this  knowledge.  Be 
sides  being  men  of  erudition,  they  need  to  be  teachers,  no  less  than 
the  humble  members  of  the  profession,  who  have  only  to  tea^h  the  alpha 
bet  and  the  multiplication  table  ;  and  there  is  in  all  teaching,  high  or  low 
something  that  is  common  to  them  all — an  art  and  a  skill  that  is  different 
from  the  mere  knowledge  of  the  subjects ;  which  is  not  necessarily  learned 
in  learning  the  subjects ;  which  requires  special,  superadded  gifts,  and 
distinct  study  and  training.  There  is,  according  to  my  observation,  as 
great  a  lack  of  this  special  skill  in  the  higher  seminaries  of  learning,  as 
in  the  lower  seminaries.  Were  it  possible  to  have  a  Normal  School,  not 
which  should  undertake  to  teach  the  entire  encyclopaedia  of  the  scien 
ces,  but  which,  limiting  itself  to  its  one  main  function  of  developing  the 
art  and  mystery  of  communicating  knowledge,  should  turn  out  College 
Professors,  and  even  Divinity,  Law,  and  Medical  Professors, — men  who 
are  really  skillful  teachers, — it  would  work  a  change  in  those  venera- 
able  institutions  as  marked  and  decisive  as  that  which  it  is  now  effect 
ing  in  the  common  schools.  Of  course,  no  such  scheme  is  possible ; 
certainly,  none  such  is  contemplated.  But  I  am  very  sure  I  shall  not 
be  considered  calumnious,  when  I  express  the  conviction,  that  there  are 
learned  and  eminent  occupants  of  Professors'  chairs,  who  might  find  great 
benefit  in  an  occasional  visit  to  a  good  Normal  School,  or  even  to  the  class 
room  of  a  teacher  trained  in  a  Normal  School.  I  certainly  have  seen, 
in  the  very  lowest  department  of  the  common  school,  a  style  of  teaching, 
which,  for  a  wise  and  intelligent  comprehension  of  its  object,  and  for  its 
quickening  power  upon  the  intellect  and  conscience,  would  compare  favor 
ably  witji  the  very  best  teaching  I  have  ever  seen  in  a  College  or  Uni 
versity. 

I  come  back,  then,  to  the  point  from  which  I  set  out,  namely,  that 
a  Normal  School,  or  Teachers'  Seminary,  differs  essentially  from  every 
other  kind  of  school.  It  aims  to  give  the  knowledge  and  skill  that  are 
needed  alike  in  all  schools.  To  make  the  point  a  little  plainer,  let  me  re 
state,  with  what  clearness  I  can,  some  of  the  elementary  truths  and  facts 
which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  the  whole  subject.  Though  to  many  of  my 
readers  it  may  be  going  over  a  beaten  track,  it  may  not  be  so  to  all ;  and 
we  all  do  well,  even  in  regard  to  known  and  admitted  truths,  to  bring 
them  occasionally  afresh  to  the  mind. 

As  it  has  been  already  said,  a  man  may  know  a  thing  perfectly,  and 
yet  not  be  able  to  teach  it.  Of  course,  a  man  cannot  teach  what  he  does 
not  know.  He  must  first  have  the  knowledge.  But  the  mere  possession 
of  knowledge  does  not  make  one  a  teacher,  any  more  than  the  possession 
of  powder  and  shot  makes  him  a  marksman,  or  the  possession  of  a  rod 


404  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

and  line  makes  him  an  angler.  The  most  learned  men  are  often  unfor 
tunately  the  very  men  who  have  the  least  capacity  for  communicating 
what  they  know.  Nor  is  this  incapacity  confined  to  those  versed  in  book 
knowledge.  It  is  common  to  every  class  of  men,  and  to  every  kind  of 
knowledge.  Let  me  give  an  example.  The  fact  about  to  be  stated,  was 
communicated  to  me  by  a  gentleman  of  eminent  commercial  standing  in 
Philadelphia,  now  the  President  of  one  of  its  leading  banks.  The  fact 
occurred  in«his  own  personal  experience.  He  was,  at  the  time  of  its  oc 
currence,  largely  engaged  in  the  cloth  trade.  His  faculties  of  mind  and 
body,  and  particularly  his  sense  of  touch,  had  been  so  trained  in  this 
business,  that  in  going  rapidly  over  an  invoice  of  cloth,  as  his  eve  and 
hand  passed  in  quick  succession  from  piece  to  piece,  in  the  most  miscella 
neous  assortment,  he  could  tell  instantly  the  value  of  each,  with  a  degree 
of  precision,  and  a  certainty  of  knowledge,  hardly  credible.  A  single 
glance  of  the  eye,  a  single  touch,  transient  as  thought,  gave  the  result. 
His  own  knowledge  of  the  subject,  in  short,  was  perfect,  and  it  was  rap 
idly  winning  him  a  fortune.  Yet  when  undertaking  to  explain  to  a 
younger  and  less  experienced  member  of  the  craft  whom  he  wished  to 
befriend,  by  what  process  he  arrived  at  his  judgment,  in  other  words,  to 
teach  what  he  knew,  he  found  himself  utterly  at  a  loss.  His  thoughts 

had  never  run  in  that  direction.  "  Oh  ! "  said  he,  "  you  have  only to 

look  at  the  cloth,  and — and — to  run  your  fingers  over  it, — thus.  You 
will  perceive  at  once  the  difference  between  one  piece  and  another."  It 
seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  him  fiat  another  man's  sensations  and 
perceptions  might  in  the  same  circumstances  be  quite  different  from  his, 
and  in  order  to  communicate  his  knowledge  to  one  uninitiated,  he  must 
pause  to  analyse  it ;  he  must  separate,  classify,  and  name  those  several 
qualities  of  the  cloth  of  which  his  senses  took  cognizance;  he  must  then 
ascertain  how  far  his  interrogator  perceived  by  his  senses  the  same  quali 
ties  which  he  himself  did,  and  thus  gradually  get  on  common  ground  with 
him. 

Let  the  receiving-teller  of  a  bank  be  called  upon  to  explain  how  it  is 
that  he  knows  at  a  glance  a  counterfeit  bill  from  a  genuine  one,  and.  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  he  will  succeed  no  better  than  the  cloth  merchant 
did.  Knowing  and  communicating  what  we  know,  doing  and  explaining 
what  we  do,  Arc  distinct,  separable,  and  usually  very  different  processes. 

Similar  illustrations  might  he  drawn  from  artists,  and  from  men  of  orig 
inal  genius  in  almost  every  profession,  who  can  seldom  give  any  intelligible 
account  of  how  they  achieve  their  results.  The  mental  habits  best  suited 
for  achievement  are  rarely  those  best  suited  for  teaching.  Marlborough, 
so  celebrated  for  his  military  combinations,  could  never  give  any  intelli 
gible  account  nf  his  plans.  He  had  arrived  at  his  conclusions  with  un 
erring  certainty,  but  he  was  so  little  accustomed  to  observing  his  own 
mental  processes,  that  he  utterly  failed  in  attempting  to  make  them  plain 
to  others.  He  saw  the  points  himself  with  perfect  clearness,  but  he  had 
no  power  to  make  others  see  them.  To  all  objections  to  his  plans,  he 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  Of  TEACHERS.  405 

could  only  say,  "  Silly,  silly,  that's  silly."  It  was  much  the  same  with 
Oliver  Cromwell.  It  is  so  with  most  men  who  are  distinguished  for  ac 
tion  and  achievement  Patrick  Henry  would  doubtless  have  made  but  a 
third-rate  teacher  of  elocution,  and  old  Homer  but  an  indifferent  lecturer 
on  the  art  of  poetry. 

To  acquire  knowledge  ourselves,  then,  and  to  put  others  in  possession 
of  what  we  have  acquired,  are  not  only  distinct  intellectual  processes,  but 
they  are  quite  unlike.  In  the  former  case,  the  faculties  merely  go  out 
towards  the  objects  to  be  known,  as  in  the  case  of  tha  cloth  merchant 
passing  his  eye  and  finger  over  the  bales  of  cloth.  But  in  the  case  of  one 
attempting  to  teach,  several  additional  processes  are  needed,  besides  that 
of  collecting  knowledge.  He  must  turn  his  thoughts  inward,  so  as  to 
arrange  and  classify  properly  the  contents  of  his  intellectual  storehouse. 
He  must  then  examine  his  own  mind,  his  intellectual  machinery,  so  as  to 
understand  precisely  how  the  knowledge  came  in  upon  himself.  He 
must  lastly  study  the  minds  of  his  pupils,  so  as  to  know  through  what 
channels  the  knowledge  will  best  reach  them.  The  teacher  may  not  al 
ways  be  aware  that  he  does  all  these  things,  that  is,  he  may  not  always 
have  a  theory  of  his  own  art.  But  the  art  itself  he  must  have.  He  must 
first  get  the  knowledge  of  the  things  to  be  taught;  he  must  secondly 
study  his  knowledge;  he  must  thirdly  study  himself;  he  must  lastly 
study  his  pupiL  He  is  a  teacher  at  all  only  so  far  as  he  does  at  least  these 
four  things. 

In  a  Normal  School,  as  before  said,  the  knowledge  of  the  subject  is  pre 
supposed.  The  object  of  the  Normal  School  is,  not  so  much  to  make 
arithmeticians  and  grammarians,  for  instance,  as  to  make  teachers  of 
arithmetic  and  grammar.  This  teaching  faculty  is  a  thing  by  itself;  and 
quite  apart  from  the  subject  matter  to  be  taught.  It  underlies  every 
branch  of  knowledge,  and  every  trade  and  profession.  The  theologian, 
the  mathematician,  the  linguist,  the  learned  professor,  no  less  than  the 
teacher  of  the  primary  school,  or  of  the  Sabbath -school,  all  need  this 
supplementary  knowledge  and  skill,  in  which  consists  the  very  essence 
of  teaching.  This  knowledge  of  how  to  teach  is  not  acquired  by  merely 
studying  the  subject  to  be  taught.  It  is  a  study  by  itself.  A  man  may 
read  familiarly  the  Mechanique  Celeste,  and  yet  not  know  how  to  teach 
the  multiplication  table.  He  may  read  Arabic  or  Sanskrit,  and  not  know 
how  to  teach  a  child  the  alphabet  of  his  mother  tongue.  The  Sabbath- 
school  teacher  may  dip  deep  into  biblical  lore,  he  may  ransack  the  com 
mentaries,  and  may  become,  as  many  Sabbath-school  teachers  are,  truly 
learned  in  Bible  knowledge,  and  yet  be  utterly  incompetent  to  teach  a 
class  of  children.  He  can  no  more  hit  the  wandering  attention,  or  make 
a  lodgment  in  the  minds  of  his  youthful  auditory,  than  the  mere  un 
skilled  possessor  of  a  fowling-piece  can  hit  a  bird  upon  the  wing. 

THE  ART  OF  TEACHING. 

The  art  of  teaching  is  the  one  indispenable  qualification  of  the  teacher. 


40  G  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

Without  this,  whatever  else  he  may  be,  he  is  no  teacher.  How  may  this 
art  be  acquired?  In  the  first  place,  many  persons  pick  it  up,  just  as  they 
pick  up  many  other  arts  and  trades, — in  a  hap-huzurd  sort  of  way.  They 
have  some  natural  aptitude  for  it,  and  they  grope  their  way  along,  by  guess 
and  by  instinct,  and  through  many  failures,  until  they  become  good  teach 
ers,  they  hardly  know  how.  To  rescue  the  art  from  this  uncertainty  and 
chance,  is  the  object  of  the  Normal  School.  In  such  a  school,  the  main 
object  of  the  pupil  is  to  learn  how  to  make  others  know  what  he  him 
self  knows.  The  whole  current  of  his  thoughts  and  studies  is  turned 
into  this  channel.  Studying  how  to  teach,  with  an  experimental  class  to 
practice  on,  forms  the  constant  topic  of  his  meditations.  It  is  surprising 
how  rapidly,  under  such  conditions,  the  faculty  of  teaching  is  developed ; 
how  fertile  the  mind  becomes  in  devising  practical  expedients,  when  once 
the  attention  is  roused  and  fixed  upon  the  precise  object  to  be  attained, 
and  the  idea  of  what  teaching  really  is,  fairly  has  possession  of  the  mind. 
In  furtherance  of  this  end,  every  well-ordered  Normal  School  has,  in  con 
nection  with  it,  and  as  part  of  its  organization,  a  Model  School,  to  serve 
the  double  purpose  of  a  school  of  observation,  and  a  school  of  practice. 
Thus,  after  these  pupil-teachers  are  once  thoroughly  familiar  with  the 
branches  to  be  taught,  and  after  they  have  become  acquainted  with  the 
theory  of  teaching,  as  a  science,  it  is  surprising  how  soon,  with  even  a 
little  of  this  practice-teaching,  they  acquire  the  art.  If  the  faculty  of 
teaching  is  in  them  at  all,  a  few  experimental  lessons,  under  the  e}'e  of  an 
experienced  teacher,  will  develope  it.  The  fact  of  possessing  within  one's 
self  the  teaching  gift,  sometimes  breaks  upon  the  possessor  himself  with 
all  the  force  of  a  surprising  and  most  delightful  discovery.  The  good 
teacher  does  not  indeed  stop  here.  He  goes  on  to  improve  in  his  art  as 
long  as  he  lives.  But  his  greatest  single  achievement  is  when  he  takes  the 
first  step, — when  he  first  learns  to  teach  at  all.  The  pupil  of  a  Normal 
School  gains  there  a  start,  an  impulse,  which  carries  him  forward  the  rest 
of 'his  life.  Thus  a  very  little  judicious  experimental  training  redeems 
hundreds  of  candidates  from  utter  and  pitiful  incompetcncy,  and  converts 
for  them  an  awkward  and  painful  drudgery  into  keen,  hopeful,  and  pro 
ductive  labor. 

TEACHING. 

But  what  is  teaching  ?  Unless  our  ideas  on  this  point  are  clear  and 
well  defined,  it  is  in  vain  to  look  for  any  satisfactory  results.  Teach  in  r, 
then,  in  the  first  place,  is  not  simply  telling.  A  class  may  be  told  a 
thing  twenty  times  over,  and  yet  not  know  it.  Talking  to  a  class  is  not 
inly  teaching.  We  have  known  many  teachers,  who  were  brimful 
of  information,  and  were  good  talkers,  and  who  <li -.coursed  to  their  classes 
with  ready  utterance  a  lar^e  part  of  the  time  allotted  to  instruction,  yet 
an  examination  of  their  clasM  <  -bowed  little  advancement  in  knowledge. 

There  are  several  time-honored  metaphors  on  this  subject,  which  need 
to  be  received  with  some  grains  of  allowance,  if  we  would  get  an  exact 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  4Q7 

idea  of  what  teaching  is.  Chiselling  the  rude  marble  into  the  finished 
statue,  giving  the  impression  of  the  seal  upon  the  soft  wax,  pouring  wa 
ter  into  an  empty  vessel, — all  these  comparisons  lack  one  essential  ele 
ment  of  likeness.  The  mind  is  indeed,  in  one  sense,  empty,  and  needs 
to  be  filled.  It  is  yielding,  and  needs  to  be  impressed.  It  is  rude,  and 
needs  polishing.  But  it  is  not,  like  the  marble,  the  wax,  or  the  vessel,  a 
passive  recipient  of  external  influences.  It  is  itself  a  living  power.  It  is 
acted  upon  only  by  stirring  up  its  own  activities.  The  operative  upon  mind, 
unlike  the  operative  upon  matter,  must  have  the  active,  voluntary  coopera 
tion  of  that  upon  which  he  works.  The  teacher  is  doing  his  work,  only  so 
far  as  he  gets  work  from  the  scholar.  The  very  essence  and  root  of  the 
work  are  in  the  scholar,  not  in  the  teacher.  No  one,  in  fact,  in  an  impor 
tant  sense,  is  taught  at  all,  except  so  far  as  he  is  self-taught.  The  teacher, 
may  be  useful,  as  an  auxiliary,  in  causing  this  action  on  the  part  of  the 
scholar.  But  the  one,  indisputable,  vital  thing,  in  all  learning,  is  in  the 
scholar  himself.  The  old  Romans,  in  their  word  education,  (educere,  to 
draw  out)  seem  to  have  come  nearer  to  the  true  idea  than  any  other  people 
have  done.  The  teacher  is  to  draw  out  the  resources  of  the  pupil.  Yet 
even  this  word  comes  short  of  the  exact  truth.  The  teacher  must  put  in, 
as  well  as  draw  out.  No  process  of  mere  pumping  will  draw  out  ol  a  child's 
mind  knowledge  which  is  not  there.  All  the  power  of  the  Socratic  meth 
od,  could  it  be  applied  by  Socrates  himself,  would  be  unavailing  to  draw 
from  a  child's  mind,  by  mere  questioning,  a  knowledge,  for  instance,  of 
chemical  affinity,  of  the  solar  system,  of  tffe  temperature  of  the  Gulf 
Stream,  of  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection. 

What  then  is  teaching?  Teaching  is  causing  any  one  to  know.  Now 
no  one  can  be  made  to  know  a  thing,  but  by  the  act  of  his  own  powers. 
His  own  senses,  his  own  memory,  his  own  powers  of  reason,  perception, 
and  judgment  must  be  exercised.  The  function  of  the  teacher  is  to  bring 
about  this  exercise  of  the  pupil's  faculties.  The  means  to  do  this  are  in 
finite  in  variety.  They  should  be  varied  according  to  the  wants  and  the 
character  of  the  individual  to  be  taught.  One  needs  to  be  told  a  thing; 
he  learns  most  readily  by  the  ear.  Another  needs  to  use  his  eyes  ;  he 
must  see  a  thing,  either  in  the  book,  or  in  nature.  But  neither  eye  nor 
ear,  nor  any  other  sense  or  faculty  will  avail  to  the  acquisition  of  knowl 
edge,  unless  the  power  of  attention  is  cultivated.  Attention,  then,  is  the 
first  act  or  power  of  the  mind  that  must  be  roused.  It  is  the  very  founda 
tion  of  all  progress  in  knowledge,  and  the  means  of  awakening  it  consti 
tute  the  first  step  in  the  educational  art. 

When  by  any  means,  facts,  positive  knowledge,  are  once  in  possession 
of  the  mind,  something  must  next  be  done  to  prevent  their  slipping  away. 
You  may  tell  a  class  the  history  of  a  certain  event,  or  you  may  give  them 
a  description  of  a  certain  place,  or  person,  or  you  may  let;  them  read  it, 
and  you  may  secure  such  a  degree  of  attention,  that  at  the  time  of  the 
reading  or  the  description,  they  shall  have  a  fair,  intelligible  comprehen 
sion  of  what  has  been  described  or  read.  The  facts  are  for  the  time 


408  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACUER3. 

actually  in  the  possession  of  the  mind.  Now,  if  the  mind  was,  according 
to  the  old  notion,  merely  a  vessel  to  be  filled,  the  process  would  be  com 
plete.  But  mind  is  not  an  empty  vessel.  It  is  a  living  essence,  with 
powers  and  processes  of  its  own.  And  experience  shows  us,  that  in  the 
case  of  a  class  of  undisciplined  pupils,  facts,  even  when  fairly  placed  in 
the  possession  of  the  mind,  often  remain  there  about  as  long  as  the  shad 
ow  of  a  passing  cloud  remains  upon  the  landscape,  and  make  about  as 
much  impression. 

The  teacher  must  seek  not  only  to  get  knowledge  into  the  mind,  but 
to  fix  it  there.  In  other  words,  the  power  of  the  memory  must  be 
strengthened.  Teaching,  then,  most  truly,  and  in  every  stage  of  it,  is  a 
strictly  cooperative  process.  You  cannot  cause  any  one  to  know,  by 
merely  pouring  out  stores  of  knowledge  in  his  hearing,  any  more  than  you 
can  make  his  body  grow  by  spreading  the  contents  of  your  market-basket 
at  his  feet  You  must  rouse  his  power  of  attention,  that  he  may  lay  hold 
of,  and  receive,  and  make  his  own,  the  knowledge  you  offer  him.  You 
must  awaken  and  strengthen  the  power  of  memory  within  him,  that  he 
may  retain  what  he  receives,  and  thus  grow  in  knowledge,  as  the  body 
by  a  like  process  grows  in  strength  and  muscle.  In  other  words,  learn 
ing,  so  far  as  the  mind  of  the  learner  is  concerned,  is  a  growth ;  and 
teaching,  so  far  as  the  teacher  is  concerned,  is  doing  whatever  is  necessary 
to  cause  that  growth. 

Let  us  proceed  a  step  farther  in  this  matter.  One  of  the  ancients  ob 
serves  that  a  lamp  loses  none  of  its  own  light  by  allowing  another  lamp 
to  be  lit  from  it.  He  uses  the  illustration  to  enforce  the  duty  of  liberal 
ity  in  imparting  our  knowledge  to  others.  Knowledge  he  says,  unlike 
other  treasures,  is  not  diminished  by  giving. 

The  illustration  fails  to  express  the  whole  truth.  This  imparting  of 
knowledge  to  Others,  not  only  does  not  impoverish  the  donor,  but  it  actu 
ally  increases  his  riches.  Docendo'dixcimus.  By  teaching  we  learn.  A 
man  grows  in  knowledge  by  the  very  act  of  communicating:  it.  The 
reason  for  this  is  obvious.  In  order  to  communicate  to  the  mind  of  an 
other  a  thought  which  is  in  our  own  mind,  we  must  give  to  the  thought  defi 
nite  shape  and  form.  We  must  handle  it  and  pack  it  up  for  safe  convey 
ance.  Thus  the  mere  act  of  giving  a  thought  expression  in  words,  fixes 
it  more  deeply  in  our  own  minds.  Not  only  so,  we  can,  in  fact,  very 
rarely  be  said  to  be  in  full  possession  of  a  thought  ourselves,  until  by 
the  tongue  or  the  pen  we  have  communicated  it  to  somebody  else.  PJ  lie- 
expression  of  it,  in  some  form,  seems  necessary  to  give  it,  even  in  our 
own  minds,  a  definite  shape  and  a  lasting  impression.  A  man  who  de 
votes  himself  to  solitary  reading  and  study,  but  never  tries  in  any  way  to 
communicate  his^  acquisitions  to  the  world,  or  enforce  his  opinions  upon 
others,  rarely  becomes  a  learned  man.  A  great  many  confused,  dreamy 
ideas,  no  doubt,  float  through  the  l>rain  of  such  a  man.  But  he  has  little 
exact  and  reliable  knowledge.  The  truth  is,  there  is  a  sort  of  indolent, 
listless  absorption  of  intellectual  food,  that  tends  to  idiocy.  I  knew  a 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  40 9 

person  once,  a  gentleman  of  wealth  and  leisure,  who  having  no  taste  for 
social  intercourse,  and  no  material  wants  to  be  supplied,  which  might 
have  required  the  active  exercise  of  his  powers,  gave  himself  up  entirely 
to  solitary  reading,  as  -a  sort  of  luxurious  sell-indulgence.  He  shut  him 
self  up  in  his  room,  all  day  long,  day  after  day,  devouring  one  book  after 
another,  until  he  became  almost  idiotic  by  the  process,  and  he  finally  died 
of  softening  of  the  brain.  Had  he  been  compelled  to  use  his  mental  ac 
quisitions  in  earning  his  bread,  or  had  the  love  of  Christ  constrained  him 
to  use  them  in  the  instruction  of  the  poor  and  the  ignorant,  he  might 
have  become  not  only  a  useful,  but  a  learned  man. 

We  see  a  beautiful  illustration  of  this  doctrine  in  the  case  of  Sabbath- 
school  teachers,  and  one  reason  why  persons  so  engaged  usually  love  their 
work,  is  the  benefit  which  they  find  in  it  for  themselves.  1  speak  here, 
not  of  the  spiritual,  but  of  the  intellectual  benefit.  By  the  process  of 
teaching  others,  they  are  all  the  while  learning.  This  advantage  in  their 
case  is  all  the  greater,  because  it  advances  them  in  a  kind  of  knowledge 
in  which,  more  than  in  any  other  kind  of  knowledge,  men  are  wont  to 
become  passive  and  stationary.  In  ordinary  worldly  knowledge,  our 
necessities  make  us  active.  The  intercourse  of  business  and  "of  pleasure 
even,  makes  men  keen.  On  these  subjects  we  are  all  the  while  bandying 
thoughts  to  and  fro,  we  are  accustomed  to  give  as  well  as  take,  and  so  we 
keep  our  intellectual  armor  bright,  and  our  thoughts  well  defined.  But 
in  regard  to  growth  in  scriptural  knowledge,  we  have  a  tendency  to  be 
mere  passive  recipients,  like  the  young  man  just  referred  to.  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath  we  hear  good,  instructive,  orthodox  discourses,  but  there  is 
no  active  putting  forth  of  our  own  powers  in  giving  out  what  we  thus 
take  in,  and  so  we  never  make  it  effectually  our  own.  The  absorbing 
process  goes  on,  and  yet  we  make  no  growth.  The  quiescent  audience  is 
a  sort  of  exhausted  receiver,  into  which  the  stream  from  the  pulpit  is  pe 
rennially  playing,  but  never  making  it  full.  Let  a  man  go  back  and  ask 
himself,  what  actual  scriptural  knowledge  have  I  gained  by  the  sermons 
of  the  last  six  months?  What  in  fact  do  I  retain  in  my  mind,  at  this  mo 
ment,  of  the  sermons  I  heard  only  last  Sabbath  ?  So  far  as  the  hearing 
of  sermons  is  concerned,  the  Sabbath-school  teacher  may  perhaps  be  no 
better  off  than  other  hearers.  But  in  regard  to  general  growth  in  Biblical 
knowledge,  he  advances  more  rapidly  than  his  fellow  worshippers,  be 
cause  the  exigencies  of  his  class  compel  him  to  a  state  of  mind  the  very 
opposite  of  this  passive  recipiency.  He  is  obliged  to  be  all  the  while,  not 
only  learning,  but  putting  his  acquisitions  into  definite  shape  for  use, 
and  the  very  act  of  using  these  acquisitions  in  teaching  a  class,  fixes  them 
in  his  own  mind,  and  makes  them  more  surely  his  own. 

I  have  used  this  instance  of  the  S  ibbath-school  teacher  because  it 
enforces  an  important  hint  already  given,  as  to  the  mode  of  teaching. 
Some  teachers,  especially  in  Sabbath-schools,  seem  to  be  ambitious  to  do 
a  great  deal  of  talking.  The  measure  of  their  success,  in  their  own  eyes, 
is  their  ability  to  keep  up  a  continm  d  stream  of  talk  for  the  greater  part 
of  the  hour.  This  is  of  course  better  than  the  embarrassing  silence 


410  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS 

sometimes  seen,  where  neither  teacher  nor  scholar  has  any  tiling  to  say. 
But  at  tne  best,  it  is  only  pouring  into  the  exhausted  receiver  enacted 
over  again.  We  can  never  be  reminded  too  often,  that  there  is  no  teach 
ing  except  so  i'ar  as  there  is  active  cooperation  on  the  part  of  the  learner. 
The  mind  receiving  must  reproduce  and  give  back  what  it  gets.  This  is 
the  indispensable  condition  of  making  any  knowledge  really  our  own. 
The  very  best  teaching  I  have  ever  seen,  has  been  where  the  teacher 
said  comparatively  little.  The  teacher  was  of  course  brimful!  of  the  sub 
ject,  lie  could  give  the  needed  information  at  exactly  the  right  point, 
and  in  the  right  quantity.  But  for  every  word  given  by  the  teacher 
there  were  many  words  of  answering  reproduction  on  the  part  of  the 
scholars.  Youthful  minds  under  such  tutelage  grow  apace. 

It  is  indeed  a  high  and  difficult  achievement  in  the  educational  art,  to 
get  young  persons  thus  to  bring  forth  their  thoughts  freely  for  examina 
tion  and  correction.  A  pleasant  countenance  and  a  gentle  manner,  invit 
ing  and  inspiring  confidence,  have  something  to  do  with  the  matter.  But, 
whatever  the  means  for  accomplishing  this  end,  the  end  itself  is  indis 
pensable.  The  scholar's  tongue  must  be  unloosed,  as  well  as  the  teacher's. 
The  scholar's  thoughts  must  be  broached  as  well  as  the  teacher's.  Indeed, 
the  statement  needs  very  little  qualification  or  abatement,  that  a  scholar 
has  learned  nothing  from  us  except  what  he  has  expressed  to  us  again  in 
words.  The  teacher  who  is  accustomed  to  harangue  his  scholars  with  a 
continuous  stream  of  words,  no  matter  how  full  of  weighty  meaning  his 
words  may  be,  is  yet  deceiving  himself,  if  he  thinks  that  his  scholars  are 
materially  benefited  by  his  intellectual  activity,  unkss  it  is  so  puided  as 
to  awaken  and  exercise  theirs.  If,  after  a  suitable  period,  he  will  honestly 
examine  his  scholars  on  the  subjects,  on  which  he  has  himself  been  so 
productive,  he  will  find  tii.it  he  has  been  only  pouring  water  into  a  seive. 
Teaching  can  never  be  this  one-sided  process.  Of  all  the  things  we  at 
tempt,  it  is  the  one  most  essentially  and  necessarily  a  cooperative  process. 
There  must  be  the  joint  action  of  the  teacher's  mind  and  the  scholar's 
mind.  A  teacher  teaches  at  all,  only  so  far  as  he  causes  this  co-active 
energy  of  the  pupil's  mind. 

THE  ART  OF  QUESTIONING. 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated,  the  measure  of  a  teacher's  success,  is 
not  what  he  himself  does,  but  what  he  pots  his  scholars  to  do.  In  noth. 
ing  is  this  more  noticeable,  than  in  the  different  modes  of  putting  a  ques 
tion  to  a  scholar.  One  teacher  will  put  a  question  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  find  out  exactly  how  much  or  how  little  of  the  subject  the  child  knows, 
and  thereby  encourage  careful  preparation  ;  to  give  the  pupil  an  open 
door,  if  he  really  knows  the  subject,  to  express  his  knowledge  in  a  way 
th:it  will  be  a  satisfaction  and  a  pleasure  to  him  ;  to  improve  his  power 
of  expression,  to  cultivate  his  memory,  to  increase  his  knowledge,  and  to 
make  it. more  thorough  and  definite.  Another  teacher  will  put  his  ques 
tions  so  as  to  secure  none  of  these  ends,  but  on  the  contrary  so  as  to 
induce  a  most  lamentable  degree  of  carelessness  and  inaccuracy.  Let  me 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  4  j[  ]_ 

illustrate  this  point,  taking  an  example  for  greater  convenience  from  a 
scriptural  subject.  Suppose  it  be  a  lesson  upon  Christ's  temptation,  as 
recorded  in  the  4th  chapter  of  Matthew.  The  dialogue  between  teacher 
and  scholar  may  be  supposed  to  proceed  somewhat  in  this  wise  : 

Teacher.  Who  was  led  up  of  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness  to  be  tempted 
of  the  devil? 

Pupil.     Jesus. 

T.  Yes.  Now  when  Jesus  had  fasted  forty  days  and  forty  nights,  he  was 
afterward  a what?  How  did  he  leel  alter  that  ? 

P.     Hungry. 

T.  Yes,  that  is  right.  He  was  afterward  "ahungered."  Now  tVn? — the 
next  scholar.  Who  then  came  to  Jesus  and  said,  if  thou  be  the  boa  01  God, 
command  that  these  stones  be  made  bread? 

(Scholar  hesitates.) 

T.     The  t ? 

P.     The  tempter. 

T.  Yes,  you  are  right.  It  was  the  tempter.  Who  do  you  think  was  meant 
by  the  tempter? — the  devil? 

P.     Yes. 

T.  When  a  man  has  fasted,  that  is,  has  eaten  nothing,  for  forty  days  and 
forty  nights,  and  feels  very  hungry,  would  the  suggestion  of  an  easy  mode  of 
getting  ibod  be  likely  to  be  a  strong  temptation  to  him,  or  would  it  not? 

P.     It  would. 

T.     Yes,  you 'are  right  again.     It  would  be  a  strong  temptation  to  him. 

I  need  not  pursue  this  dialogue  further.  The  reader  will  see  at  once 
how  there  may  thus  be  the  appearance  of  quite  a  brisk  and  fluent  recita 
tion,  to  which  however  the  pupil  contributes  absolutely  nothing.  It 
requires  nothing  of  him  in  the  way  of  preparation,  and  only  the  most 
indolent  and  profitless  use  of  his  faculties  while  reciting.  He  could 
hardly  answer  amiss,  unless  he  were  an  idiot,  and  yet  he  has  the  appear 
ance,  and  he  is  often  flattered  into  the  belief,  of  having  given  some 
evidence  of  knowledge  and  proficiency. 

The  opposite  extreme  from  the  method  just  exhibited,  is  that  known  as 
the  topical  method.  It  is  the  method  pursued  in  the  higher  classes  of 
schools,  and  among  more  advanced  students.  In  the  topical  method,  the 
teacher  propounds  a  topic  or  subject,  sometimes  in  the  form  of  a  question, 
but  more  commonly  only  by  a  title,  a  mere  word  or  two,  and  then  calls 
upon  the  pupil  to  give,  in  his  own  words,  a  full  and  connected  narration 
or  explanation  of  the  subject,  such  as  the  teacher  himself  would  give,  if 
called  upon  to  narrate  or  explain  it.  The  subject  already  suggested,  if 
propounded  topically,  would  be  somewhat  in  this  wise  : 

The  first  temptation  of  Jesus. 

Or,  more  fully :  Narrate  the  circumstances  of  the  first  temptation  of 
Jesus,  and  show  wherein  his  virtue  was  particularly  tried  in  that  trans 
action. 

The  teacher,  having  propounded  the  subject  clearly  to  the  class,  then 
waits  patiently,  maintaining  silence  himself,  and  requiring  the  members 
of  the  class  to  be  silent  and  attentive,  until  the  pupil  interrogated  is  quite 
through,  not  hurrying  him,  not.  interrupting  him,  even  with  miscalled 
helps  and  hints,  but  leaving  him  to  the  free  and  independent  action  of  his 
own  faculties,  in  giving  as  full,  connected,  and  complete  an  account  of  the 


4]  2  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACUERS. 

matter  as  he  can.  When  the  pupil  is  quite  through,  the  teacher  then,  but 
not  before,  makes  any  corrections  or  additional  statements  that  may  seem 
to  be  needed.  In  such  an  exercise  as  this,  the  pupil  finds  the  absolute 
necessity  of  full  and  ample  preparation ;  he  has  a  powerful  and  healthy 
stimulus  thus  to  prepare,  in  the  intellectual  satisfaction  which  one  always 
feels  in  the  successful  discharge  of  any  difficult  task ;  and  he  acquires  a 
habit  of  giving  complete  and  accurate  expression  to  his  knowledge,  by 
means  of  entire  sentences,  and  without  the  help  of  "catch  words,"  or 
leading-strings  of  any  kind. 

Some  classes,  of  course,  are  not  sufficiently  advanced  to  carry  out  fully 
the  method  here  explained.  But  there  are  many  intermediate  methods, 
founded  on  the  same  principle,  and  suited  to  children  in  every  stage  of 
advancement.  Only  let  it  be  understood,  whatever  the  stage,  that  the 
object  of  the  recitation  is,  not  to  show  what  the  teacher  can  say  or  do, 
but  to  secure  the  right  thing  being  said  and  done  by  the  pupil. 

To  recur  once  more  to  the  same  subject,  the  temptation  of  Christ.  For 
a  very  juvenile  class,  the  questioning  might  proceed  on  this  wise : 

T.     Where  was  Jesus  led  after  his  baptism? 

P.     He  was  led  into  the  wilderness. 

T.     By  whom  was  he  led  there  ? 

P.     He  was  led  by  the  Spirit. 

T.     For  what  purpose  was  he  led  into  the  wilderness? 

P.     He  was  led  into  the  wilderness  to  be  tempted. 
•  7!     By  whom  was  he  to  be  tempted? 

P.     He  was  to  be  tempted  by  the  devil. 

T.     What  bodily  want  was  made  the  means  of  his  first  temptation  ? 

If  the  elasd  is  quite  young,  and  this  question  seems  too  difficult,  the  teacher, 
instead  of  asking  it,  or  alter  asking  it  and  not  getting  •».  satisfactory  answer, 
might  say  to  his  class,  that  Jesus  was  first  tempted  through  the  sense  ol  hun 
ger.  He  was  very  hungry,  and  the  devil  suggested  to  him  an  improper  means 
of  relieving  himself  from  the  inconvenience.  He  might  then  go  on  with  some 
such  questions  as  th(  se  : 

T.  What  circumstance  is  mentioned  as  showing  how  very  hungry  he  must 
have  been? 

P.     He  had  fasted  forty  days  and  forty  nights. 

T.  Mention  any  way  in  which  you  might  be  tempted  to  sin,  if  you  were  suf 
fering  from  hunger? 

The  foregoing  questions,  it  will  be  perceived,  are  very  simple,  being 
suited  to  scholars  just  advanced  beyond  the  infant  class.  Yet  no  one  of 
the  questions,  in  its  form  or  terms,  necessarily  suggests  the  answer.  No 
one  of  them  can  be  answered  by  a  mere  "yes"  or  "no."  No  scholar, 
unacquainted  with  the  subject,  and  with  his  book  closed,  can  guess  at  the 
answer  from  the  way  in  which  the  question  is  put.  Not  a  question  has 
been  given,  simple  as  they  all  are,  which  does  not  require  at  least  some 
preparation,  and  which  does  not,  to  some  extent,  give  exercise  to  the  pu 
pil's  memory,  his  judgment,  and  his  capacity  for  expression. 

If  the  class  is  more  advanced,  the  questions  may  be  varied,  so  as  to 
task  and  exercise  these  faculties*  more  seriously.  For  instance,  the  teacher 
of  a  class  somewhat  older  might  be  imagined  to  begin  the  exercise  thus: 

T.  After  the  baptism  of  Jesus,  which  closes  the  3d  chapter  of  Matthew,  we 
have  an  account  of  several  temptations  to  which  he  was  exposed.  Now,  opcu 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  4]  3 

your  books  at  the  4th  chapter  and  see  if  you  can  find  out  how  many  verses  are 
occupied  with  the  narrative  oi'  these  temptations,  and  at  what  verse  each  temp 
tation  begins. 

The  feieher  then  requires  all  the  class  to  search  in  silence,  and  each  one  to 
get  ready  to  answer,  but  lets  no  answer  be  gtven  until  all  are  prepared.  When 
all  have  signified  their  readiness,  some  one  is  designated  to  give  the  answer. 

The  boo.\s  being  closed,  the  questioning  begins : 

T.  Name  t  ie  different  places  into  which  Jesus  was  taken  to  be  tempted,  and 
the  verse  in  which  each  place  is  named. 

P.  It  is  said  in  the  1st  verse  that  Jesus  was  led  up  into  the  wilderness ;  in 
the  5th  verse  that  he  was  taken  up  into  the  holy  city,  and  set  on  a  pinnacle  of 
the  temple  ;  and  in  the  8th  verse,  that  he  was  taken  up  into  an  exceedingly 
high  mountain. 

T.  What  was  the  condition  of  Jesus,  when  the  devil  proposed  his  first 
temptation  ? 

P.     He  had  been  fasting  forty  days  and  forty  nights,  and  he  was  very  hungry. 

I  need  not  multiply  these  illustrations.  I  have  not  made  the  men- 
tirely  in  vain,  if  I  have  succeeded  in  producing  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader  the  conviction  of  these  two  things;  first,  that  it  is  a  most  impor 
tant  and  difficult  part  of  the  teacher's  art,  to  know  how  to  ask  a  ques 
tion;  and,  secondly,  that  the  true  measure  of  the  teacher's  ability  is,  not 
so  much  what  he  himself  is  able  to  say  to  the  scholars,  as  the  fulness,  the 
accuracy  and  the  completeness  of  the  answers  which  he  gets  from  them. 

TEACHING  AND  TRAINING. 

Before  leaving  this  part  of  the  subject,  and  that  there  may  be  no  possible 
misunderstanding  on  these  elementary  points,  it  seems  proper  that  I 
should  here  explain  briefly  the  difference  between  teaching  and  training, 
two  processes  which  practically  run  into  each  other  a  good  deal,  but  which 
nevertheless  ought  not  to  be  confounded.  Training  implies  more  or  less 
of  practical  application  of  what  one  has  been  taught.  One  may  be  taught, 
for  instance,  the  exact  forms  of  th;-  letters  used  in  writing,  so  as  to  know  at 
once  by  the  eye  whether  the  letters  are  formed  correctly  or  not.  But  only 
training  and  practice  will  make  him  a  penman.  Training  refers  more  to 
the  formation  of  habits.  A  child  may  be  taught  by  reasoning  the  impor 
tance  of  punctuality  in  coming  to  school.  But  he  is  trained  to  the  habit 
of  punctuality  only  by  actually  coming  to  school  in  good  time,  day  after 
day. 

The  human  machine  on  which  the  teacher  acts,  is  in  its  essential  na 
ture  different  from  the  material  agencies  operated  on  by  other  engineers. 
It  is,  as  I  have  once  and  again  said,  a  living  power,  with  laws  and  pro 
cesses  of  its  own.  Constant  care,  therefore,  must  be  exercised,  in  the 
business  of  education,  not  to  be  misled  by  analogies  drawn  from  the  ma 
terial  world.  The  steam  engine  may  go  over  its  appointed  task,  day  after 
day,  the  whole  year  round,  and  yet,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  it  will  have 
no  more  tendency  to  go  than  before  its  first  trip.  Not  so  the  boy.  Going 
begets  going.  By  doing  a  thing  often,  he  acquires  a  facility,  an  inclination, 
a  tendency,  a  habit  of  doing  it.  If  a  teacher  or  a  parent  succeeds  in  get 
ting  a  child  to  do  a  thing  once,  it  will  be  easier  to  get  him  to  do  it  a  sec 
ond  time,  and  still  easier,  a  third  time. 


414  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEA"CI1EUS. 

A  teacher  who  is  wise,  when  he  seeks  to  bring  about  any  given  change 
in  a  child,  whether  it  be  intellectual  or  moral,  will  not  ordinarily  attempt 
to  produce  the  change  all  at  once,  and  by  main  force,  lie  will  not  rely 
upon  extravagant  promises  on  the  one  side,  nor  upon  scolding,  threats, 
and  violence  on  the  other.  Solomon  hits  the  idea  exactly,  when  he  speaks 
of  "  leading  in  the  way  of  righteousness."  We  must  take  the  young  by 
the  hand  and  lead  them.  When  we  have  led  them  over  the  ground  once, 
let  us  do  it  a  second  time,  and  then  a  third  time,  and  so  keep  on,  until  we 
shall  have  established  with  them  a  routine,  which  they  will  continue  to 
follow  of  their  own  accord,  when  the  gufding  hand  which  first  led  them 
is  withdrawn.  This  is  training. 

The  theory  of  it  is  true,  not  only  in  regard  to  things  to  be  done,  which 
is  generally  admitted,  but  also  in  regard  to  things  to  be  known,  which  is 
often  ignored  if  not  denied.  A  boy,  we  will  say,  has  a  repugnance  to  the 
study  of  arithmetic.  Perhaps  he  is  particularly  dull  of  comprehension 
on  that  subject.  We  shall  not  remove  that  repugnance  by  railing  at  him. 
We  shall  never  make  him  admire  it  by  expatiating  on  its  beauties.  It 
will  not  become  clear  to  his  comprehension  by  our  pouring  upon  it  all  at 
once  a  sudden  and  overpowering  blazo  of  light  in  the  way  of  explanation. 
Such  a  process  rather  confounds  him.  Here  again  let  us  fall  back  upon 
the  method  of  the  great  Teacher,  "Line  upon  line,  precept  upon  pre 
cept."  We  will  first  patiently  conduct  our  boy  through  one  of  the  sim 
plest  operations  of  arithmetic,  say,  a  sum  in  addition.  The  next  day  we 
will  conduct  him  again  through  the  same  process,  or  through  another  of 
the  same  sort.  The  steps  will  gradually  become  familiar  to  his  mind, 
then  easy,  then  clear.  He  learns  first  the  practice  of  arithmetic,  then  the 
rules,  then  the  relations  of  numbers,  then  the  theory  on  which  the  rules 
and  the  practice  are  based,  and  finally,  he  hardly  knows  how,  he  becomes 
an  arithmetician.  He  has  been  trained  into  a  knowledge  of  the  subject 

You  wish  to  teach  a  young  child  how  to  find  a  word  in  a  dictionary. 
You  give  at  first,  perhaps,  a  verbal  description  of  the  mystery  of  a 
dictionary.  You  tell  him  that,  in  such  a  book,  all  the  words  arc  ar 
ranged  according  to  the  letters  with  which  they  begin  ;  that  all  the  words 
beginning  with  the  letter  A  are  in  the  first  part  of  the  book.  Then  those 
beginning  with  the  letter  B,  then  those  beginning  with  C,  and  so  on ;  you 
tell  him  that  all  the  words  beginning  with  one  letter,  covering  some  one 
or  two  hundred  pages,  are  again  re-arranged  among  themselves  according 
to  the  second  letter  of  each  word,  and  then  again  still  further  re-arranged 
according  to  the  third  letter  in  each,  and  so  on  to  the  end.  Arouse  his 
ut most  attention,  and  explain  the  process  with  the  greatest  clearness  that 
words  can  give,  and  then  set  him  to  find  a  word.  See  how  awkward 
will  be  his  first  attempt,  how  confused  his  ideas,  how  little  he  has  really 
understood  what  you  have  told  him.  You  must  repeat  your  directions 
patiently,  over  and  over,  "line  upon  line"  ;  you  must  take  him  by  the 
hand,  day  after  day,  and  train  him  into  a  knowledge  of  even  so  apparently 
simple  a  thing  as  finding  a  word  in  a  dictionary. 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  415 

While  teaching  and  training  are  thus  distinguishable  in  theory,  in  prac 
tice  they  arc  well  nigh  inseparable.  At  least,  they  never  should  be  sepa 
rated.  Teaching  has  never  done  its  perfect  work,  until,  by  training,  the 
mind  has  learned  to  run  in  accustomed  channels,  until  it  sees  what  is 
true,  and  feels  what  is  right,  with  a  clearness,  force,  and  promptitude,  which 
come  only  from  long  continued  habit. 

Supposing  a  man  to  know  clearly  what  teaching  is,  and  to  have  himself 
the  gift,  how  endless  are  the  modes  by  which  it  is  to  be  exercised !  How 
numerous  are  the  methods  of  doing  even  that  one  function  of  the  teach- 
erxs  office,  the  hearing  of  recitations !  It  may  be  well  to  occupy  a  little 
space  in  considering  two  or  three  of  these  modes,  byway  of  still  farther 
illustraing  the  subject,  and  before  drawing  the  general  conclusion  to 
which  all  these  illustrations  point. 

METHODS  OF  HEARING  RECITATIONS. 

The  first  that  I  shall  name  is  called  the  concert  method.  This  is 
practiced  chiefly  in  schools  for  very  young  children,  especially  for  those 
who  cannot  read.  There  are  many  advantages  in  this  method,  some  of 
which  are  not  confined  to  infant  classes.  The  timid,  who  are  frightened 
by  the  sound  of  their  own  voices  when  attempting  to  recite  alone,  are 
thereby  encourged  to  speak  out,  and  those  who  have  had  any  experience 
with  such  children,  know  that  this  is  no  small,  or  easy,  or  unimportant 
achievement.  Another  benefit  of  the  method  is  the  pleasure  it  gives  the 
children.  The  measured  noise  and  motion  connected  with  such  concert 
exercises,  are  particularly  attractive  to  young  children.  Moreover,  one 
good  teacher,  by  the  use  of  this  method,  may  greatly  multiply  his  effi 
ciency.  He  may  teach  simultaneously  fifty  or  sixty,  instead  of  teaching 
only  five  or  six.  But  in  estimating  this  advantage,  one  error  is  to  be  guard 
ed  against.  Visitors  often  hear  a  large  class  of  fifty  or  more  go  through  an 
exercise  of  this  kind,  in  which  the  scholars  have  been  drilled  to  recite  in 
concert,  and  if  such  persons  have  never  been  accustomed  to  investigate 
the  fact,  they  often  suppose  that  the  answers  given  are  the  intelligent 
responses  of  all  the  members  of  the  class.  The  truth  is,  however,  in  very 
many  such  cases,  that  only  some  half-dozen  or  so  really  recite  the  answers 
from  their  cfwn  independent  knowledge.  These  serve  as  leaders;  the 
others,  sheep-like,  follow.  Still,  by  frequent  repetition,  even  in  this  blind 
way,  something  gradually  sticks  to  the  memory,  although  the  impression 
is  always  apt  to  be  vague  and  undefined. 

The  method  of  reciting  in  concert  is,  in  my  opinion,  chiefly  useful  in 
reciting  rules  and  definitions,  or  other  matters,  where  the  very  words  are 
to  be  committed  to  memory.  The  impression  of  so  large  a  body  of  sound 
upon  the  ear  is  very  strong,  rnd  is  a  great  help  in  the  matter  of  mere 
verbal  recollection.  Children  too  are  very  sympathetic,  and  a  really 
skillful  teacher,  by  the  concert  method,  can  do  a  great  deal  in  cultivating 
the  emotional  nature  of  a  large  class. 

Young  children,  too,  it  should  be   remembered,  like  all  other  young 


41  G  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

animals,  are  by  nature  restless  and  fidgety,  and  like  to  make  a  noise. 
It  is  possible,  indeed,  by  a  system  of  rigorous  and  harsh  repression,  to 
rotrain  this  restlessness,  and  to  keep  these  little  ones  for  hours  in  such  a 
state  of  decorous  primness  as  not  to  molest  weak  nerves.  But  such  a 
system  of  forced  constraint  is  not  natural  to  children,  and  is  not  a  wise 
method  of  teaching.  Let  the  youngsters  make  a  noise  ;  I  had  almost 
said,  the  more  noise  the  better,  so  it  be  duly  regulated.  Let  them  exer 
cise,  not  only  their  lungs,  but  their  limbs,  moving  in  concert,  rising  up, 
sitting  down,  turning  round,  marching,  raising  their  hands,  pointing  to 
objects  to  which  their  attention  is  called,  looking  at  objects  which  are 
shown  to  them.  Movement  and  noise  are  the  life  of  a  child.  They  should 
be  regulated,  indeed,  but  not  repressed.  To  make  a  young  child  sit  still 
and  keep  silence  for  any  great  length  of  time,  is  next  door  to  murder. 
I  verily  believe  it  sometimes  is  murder.  The  health,  and  even  the  lives 
of  these  little  ones,  are  sacrificed  to  a  false  theory  of  teac  ing.  There  is 
no  occasion  for  torturing  a  child  in  order  to  teach  him.  God  did  not  so 
mean  it.  Only  let  your  teaching  be  in  accordance  with  the  wants  of  his 
young  nature,  and  the  school-room  will  be  to  him  the  most  attractive  spot 
of  all  the  earth.  Time  and  again  have  I  seen  the  teacher  of  a  primary 
school  obliged  at  recess  to  conipel  her  children  to  go  out  of  doors,  so  much 
more  pleasant  did  they  find  the  school-room  than  the  play-ground. 

Quite  the  opposite  extreme  from  the  concert  method,  is  that  which,  for 
convenience,  may  be  called  the  individual  method.  In  this  method,  the 
teacher  examines  one  scholar  alone  upon  the  whole  lesson,  and  then 
another,  and  so  on,  until  the  class  is  completed. 

The  only  advantage  claimed  lor  this  method  is  that  the  individual  lag 
gard  cannot  screen  his  deficiencies,  as  he  can  when  reciting  in  concert. 
He  cannot  make  believe  to  know  the  lesson  by  lazily  joining  in  with  the 
general  current  of  voice  when  the  answers  are  given.  His  own  individual 
knowledge,  or  ignorance,  stands  out.  This  is  clear,  and  so  far  it  is  an  ad 
vantage.  But  ascertaining  what  a  pupil  knows  of  a  lesson,  is  only  one 
end,  and  that  by  no  means  the  most  important  end  of  a  recitation.  This 
interview  between  the  pupil  and  teacher,  called  a  recitation,  has  many 
ends  besides  that  of  merely  detecting  how  much  of  a  subject  the  pupil 
knows.  A  far  higher  end  is  to  make  him  know  more,— to  make  perfect 
that  knowledge  which  the  most  faithful  preparation  on  the  part  of  the 
pupil  always  leaves  incomplete. 

The  disadvantages  of  the  individual  method  are  obvious.  It  is  a  great 
waste  of  time.  If  a  teacher  has  a  class  of  twenty,  and  an  hour  to  hear 
tin-in  in,  it  gives  him  but  three  minutes  for  each  pupil,  supposing  there 
are  no  interruptions.  But  we  know  there  always  are  interruptions.  In 
public  schools  the  class  oftener  numbers  forty  than  twenty,  and  the  time 
for  recitation  is  oftener  half  an  hour  than  an  hour.  The  teacher  who 
pursues  the  individual  method  to  its'  extreme,  will  rarely  find  himself  in 
possession  of  more  than  one  minute  to  each  scholar.  In  so  brief  a  time, 
very  little  can  be  ascertained  as  to  what  the  scholar  knows  of  the  lesson, 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  417 

and  still  less  can  anything  be  done  to  increase  that  knowledge.  More 
over,  while  the  teacher  is  bestowing  his  small  modicum  of  time  upon  one 
scholar,  all  the  other  members  of  the  class  are  idle,  or  worse. 

Teaching,  of  all  kinds  of  labor,  is  that  in  which  labor-saving  and  time- 
saving  methods  are  of  the  greatest  moment.  The  teacher  who  is  wise, 
will  aim  so  to  conduct  a  recitation  that,  first,  his  whole  time  shall  be  given 
to  every  scholar ;  and  secondly,  the  scholar's  mind  shall  be  exercised  with 
every  part  of  the  lesson,  and  just  as  much  when  others  are  reciting,  as 
when  it  is  his  own  time  to  recite.  A  teacher  who  can  do  this  is  teaching 
every  scholar,  all  the  time,  just  as  much  as  if  he  had  no  scholar  but  that 
one. 

Even  this  does  not  state  the  whole  case.  A  scholar  in  such  a  class 
learns  more  in  a  given  time,  than  he  would  if  he  were  alone,  and  the 
teacher's  entire  time  were  given  exclusively  to  him.  The  human  mind  is 
wonderfully  quickened  by  sympathy.  In  a  crowd  each  catches,  in  some 
mysterious  manner,  an  impulse  from  his  fellows.  The  influence  of  asso 
ciated  numbers,  all  engaged  upon  the  same  thought,  is  universally  to 
rouse  the  mind  to  a  higher  exercise  of  its  powers.  A  mind  that  is  dull, 
lethargic,  and  heavy  in  its  movements,  when  moving  solitarily,  often 
effects,  when  under  a  social  and  sympathetic  impulse,  achievements  that 
are  a  wonder  to  itself. 

The  teacher,  then,  who  knows  how  thus  to  make  a  unit  of  twenty  or 
thirty  pupils,  really  multiplies  himself  twenty  or  thirty-fold,  besides  giving 
to  the  whole  class  an  increased  momentum  such  as  always  'Belongs  to  an 
aggregated  mass.  I  have  seen  a  teacher  instruct  a  class  of  forty  in  such 
a  way,  as,  in  the  first  place,  to  secure  tho  subordinate  end  of  ascertaining 
and  registering  with  a  sufficient  degree  of  exactness  how  much  each 
scholar  knows  of  the  lesson  by  his  own  preparation,  and  secondly,  to 
secure,  during  the  whole  hour,  the  active  exercise  and  cooperation  of  each 
individual  mind,  under  the  powerful  stimulus  of  the  social  instinct,  and 
of  a  keenly  awakened  attention.  Such  a  teacher  accomplishes  more  in 
one  hour  than  the  slave  of  the  individual  method  can  accomplish  in  forty 
hours.  A  scholar  in  such  a  class  learns  more  in  one  hour  than  he  would 
learn  in  forty  hours,  in  a  class  of  equal  numbers  taught  on  the  other  plan. 
Such  teaching  is  labor-saving  and  time-saving,  in  their  highest  perfection, 
employed  upon  the  noblest  of  ends. 

OBSERVING  A  PROPER  ORDER  IN  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  FACULTIES. 

But  besides  these  questions  of  methods,  there  are  other  and  higher 
questions,  growing  out  of  what  may  be  called  the  philosophy  of  edu 
cation.  One  of  these  relates  to  the  observance  of  a  proper  order  in  the 
development  of  the  mental  faculties,  and  a  mistake  on  this  point  leads 
often  to  a  sad  waste  of  time,  even  where  it  does  not  cause  a  mischievous 
perversion  of  ideas.  Education  may  be  defined  to  be  the  process  of  de 
veloping  in  due  order  and  proportion  all  the  good  and  desirable  parts  of 
human  nature.  On  this  point  all  educators  are  substantially  agreed. 


418  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

Another  truth,  to  which  there  is  a  general  theoretical  assent,  is  that,  in 
the  order  in  which  we  develope  the  faculties,  we  should  follow  the  lead 
ings  of  nature,  cultivating  in  childhood  those  faculties  which  seem  most 
naturally  to  flourish  in  childish  years,  and  reserving  for  maturer  years 
the  cultivation  of  those  faculties  which  in  the  order  of  nature  do  not  show 
much  vigor  until  near  the  age  of  manhood,  and  which  require  for  their 
full  development  a  general  ripening  of  all  the  other  powers.  The  devel 
opment  of  a  human  being  is  in  some  respects  like  that  of  a  plant.  There 
is  one  stage  of  growth  suitable  for  the  appearance  and  maturity  of  the 
leaf,  another  for  the  flower,  a  third  for  the  fruit,  and  still  a  fourth  for  the 
perfected  and  ripened  seed. 

The  analogy  lias  of  course  many  limitations.  In  the  human  plant,  for 
instance,  one  class  of  faculties,  after  maturing,  does  not  disappear  in  order 
to  make  place  for  another  class,  as  the  flower  disappears  before  there  can 
be  fruit.  Nor,  again,  is  any  class  of  faculties  wanting  altogether  until  the 
season  for  their  development  and  maturity.  The  faculties  all  exist  to 
gether,  leaf,  flower,  fruit,  and  seed,  at  the  same  time,  but  each  has  its  own 
best  time  for  ripening. 

While  these  principles  have  received  the  general  assent  of  educators, 
there  has  been  a  wide  divergence  among  them  as  to  some  of  the  practical 
applications.  Which  faculties  do  most  naturally  ripen  early  in  life,  and 
which  late  in  life  ? 

According  to  my  own  observation,  the  latest  of  the  human  powers  in 
maturing,  as  it  is  the  most  consummate,  is  the  Judgment  Next  in  the 
order  of  maturity,  and  next  also  in  majesty  and  excellence,  is  the  Reason 
ing  power.  Reason  is  minister  to  the  judgment,  furnishing  to  the  latter 
materials  for  its  action,  as  all  the  other  powers,  memory,  fancy,  imagina 
tion,  and  so  forth,  are  ministers  to  reason,  and  supply  it  with  its  mate 
rials.  The  reasoning  power  lacks  true  vigor  and  muscle,  the  judgment  is 
little  to  be  relied  on,  until  we  approach  manhood.  Nature  withholds  from 
these  faculties  an  earlier  development,  for  the  very  reason,  apparently, 
that  they  can  ordinarily  have  but  scanty  materials  for  action  until  after 
the  efflorescence  of  the  other  faculties.  The  mind  must  first  be  well  filled 
with  knowledge,  which  the  other  faculties  have  gathered  and  stored,  be 
fore  reason  and  judgment  can  have  full  scope  for  action. 

Going  to  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  I  have  as  little  doubt  that  the 
earliest  of  all  the  faculties  to  bud  and  blossom,  is  the  Memory.  Children 
not  only  commit  to  memory  with  ease,  but  they  take  actual  pleasure  in  it. 
Tasks,  under  which  the  grown  up  man  recoils  and  reels,  the  child  will 
assume  with  light  heart,  and  execute  without  fatigue.  Committing  to 
memory,  which  is  repulsive  drudgery  to  the  man,  is  the  easiest  of  all  tasks 
•to  the  child.  More  than  this.  The  things  fixed  in  the  memory  of  child 
hood  are  seldom  forgotten.  Things  learned  later  in  life,  not  only  arc 
learned  with  greater  difficulty,  but  more  rapidly  disappear.  I  recall 
instantly  and  without  effort,  texts  of  Scripture,  hymns,  catechisms,  rules 
of  grammar  and  arithmetic,  and  scraps  of  poetry  and  of  classic  authors, 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  4}g 

with  which  I  became  familiar  when  a  boy.  But  it  is  a  labor  of  Hercules 
for  me  to  repeat  by  memory  anything  acquired  since  attaining  the  age  of 
manhood.  The  Creator  seems  to  have  arranged  an  order  in  the  natural 
development  of  the  faculties  for  this  very  purpose,  that  in  childhood  and 
youth  we  may  be  chiefly  occupied  with  the  accumulation  of  materials  in 
our  intellectual  storehouse.  Now  to  reverse  this  process,  to  occupy  the 
immature  mind  of  childhood  chiefly  with  the  cultivation  of  faculties 
which  are  of  later  growth,  and  actually  to  put  shackles  and  restraints 
upon  the  memory,  nicknaming  and  ridiculing  all  memoriter  exercises 
as  parrot  performances,  is  to  ignore  one  of  the  primary  facts  of  human 
nature.  It  is  to  be  wiser  than  God. 

Another  faculty  that  shoots  up  into  full  growth  in  the  very  morning' 
and  spring-time  of  life,  is  Faith.  I  speak  here,  of  course,  not  of  reli 
gious  faith,  but  of  the  faculty  of  the  human  mind  which  leads  a  child  to 
believe  instinctively  whatever  is  told  him.  That  we  all  do  thus  believe, 
until  by  slow  and  painful  experience  we  learn  to  do  otherwise,  needs  no 
demonstration.  Everybody's  experience  attests  the  fact.  It  is  equally 
plain  that  the  existence  and  maturity  of  this  faculty  in  early  childhood 
is  a  most  wise  and  beneficent  provision  of  nature.  How  slow  and  tedious 
would  be  the  first  steps  in  knowledge,  were  the  child  born,  as  some  teachers 
seem  trying  to  make  him,  a  sceptic,  that  is,  with  a  mind  which  refuses  to 
receive  anything  as  true,  except  what  it  has  first  proved  by  experience 
and  reason !  On  the  contrary,  how  much  is  the  acquisition  of  knowledge 
expedited,  during  these  years  of  helplessness  and  dependency,  by  this 
spontaneous,  instinctive  faith  of  childhood.  The  same  infinite  wisdom 
and  love,  which  in  the  order  of  nature  provide  for  the  helpless  infant  a 
father  and  mother  to  care  for  it,  provide  also  in  the  constitution  of  the  in 
fant's  mind  that  instinctive  principle  or  power  of  faith,  which  alone  makes 
the  father's  and  mother's  love  efficacious  towards  its  intellectual  growth 
and  development.  Of  what  use  were  parents  or  teachers,  in  instructing 
a  child  which  required  proof  for  every  statement  that  father,  mother,  or" 
teacher  gives  ?  How  cruel  to  force  the  confiding,  young  heart  into  pre 
mature  scepticism,  by  compelling  him  to  hunt  up  reasons  for  everything, 
when  ho  has  reasons,  to  him  all-sufficient,  in  the  fact  that  father,  mother 
or  teacher,  told  him  so  ? 

It  may  seem  trifling  to  dwell  so  long  upon  these  elementary  points. 
Yet  there  are  wide-spread  plans  of  education  which  violate  every  princi 
ple  here  laid  down.  Educators  and  systems  of  education,  enjoying  the 
highest  popularity,  seem  to  have  adopted  the  theory,  at  least  they  tacitly 
act  upon  the  theory,  that  the  first  faculty  of  the  mind  to  be  developed  is 
the  reasoning  power.  Indeed,  they  are  not  far  from  asserting  that  the 
whole  business  of  education  consists  in  the  cultivation  of  this  power,  and 
they  bend  accordingly  their  main  energies  upon  training  young  children 
to  go  through  certain  processes  of  reasoning,  so  called.  They  require  a 
child  to  prove  everything  before  receiving  it  as  true,  to  reason  out  a  rule 
for  himself  for  every  process  in  arithmetic  or  grammar,  to  demonstrate 


420  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

the  multiplication  table  before  daring  to  use  it,  or  to  commit  it  to  memory 
if  indeed  they  do  not  forbid  entirely  its  being  committed  to  memory  as 
too  parrot-like  and  mechanical.  To  commit  blindly  to  memory  precious 
forms  of  truth,  which  the  wise  and  good  have  hived  for  the  use  of  the 
race,  is  poohed  at  as  old  fogyish.  To  receive  as  true  anything  which 
the  child  cannot  fathom,  and  which  he  has  not  discovered  or  demonstrated 
for  himself,  is  denounced  as  slavish.  All  authority  in  teaching,  growing 
out  of  the  age  and  the  reputed  wisdom  of  the  teacher,  all  faith  and  rever 
ence  in  the  learner,  growing  out  of  a  sense  of  his  ignorance  and  depend 
ence,  are  discarded,  and  the  frightened  stripling  is  continually  rapped  on 
the  knuckles,  if  he  does  not  at  every  step  show  the  truth  of  his  allega 
tions  by  what  is  called  a  course  of  reasoning.  Children  reason,  of  course. 
They  should  be  encouraged  and  taught  to  reason.  No  teacher,  who  is 
wise,  will  neglect  this  part  of  a  child's  intellectual  powers.  But  he  will 
not  consider  this  the  season  for  its  main,  normal  development.  He  will 
hold  this  subject  for  the  present  subordinate  to  many  others.  More 
over,  the  methods  of  reasoning,  which  he  does  adopt,  will  be  of  a  peculiar 
kind,  suited  to  the  nature  of  childhood,  the  results  being  mainly  intui 
tional,  rather  than  the  fruits  of  formal  logic.  To  oblige  a  young  child  to 
go  through  a  formal  syllogystic  statement  in  every  step  in  elementary 
arithmetic,  for  instance,  is  simply  absurd.  It  makes  nothing  plain  to  a 
child's  mind  which  was  not  plain  before.  On  the  contrary,  it  often  makes 
a  muddle  of  what  had  been  perfectly  clear.  What  was  in  the  clear  sun 
light  of  intuition,  is  now  in  a  haze,  through  the  intervening  medium  of 
logical  terms  and  forms,  through  which  he  is  obliged  to  look  at  it 

A  primary  teacher  asks  her  class  this  question :  "  If  J  can  buy  6  mar 
bles  with  one  penny,  how  many  marbles  can  I  buy  with  5  pennies?" 
A  bright  boy  who  should  promptly  answer  "  30  v  would  be  sharply 
rebuked.  Little  eight-year  old  Solon  on  the  next  bench,  has  been  better 
trained  than  that.  With  stately  and  solemn  enunciation  he  delivers  him 
self  of  a  performance  somewhat  of  this  sort.  "If  I  can  buy  G  marbles 
with  1  penny,  how  many  marbles  can  I  buy  with  5  pennies  ?  Answer — 
I  can  buy  5  times  as  many  marbles  with  5  pennies  as  I  can  buy  with  1 
penny.  If,  therefore,  I  can  buy  6  marbles  with  1  penny,  I  can  buy  5 
times  as  many  marbles  with  5  pennies ;  and  5  times  G  marbles  are  30 
marbles.  Therefore,  if  I  can  buy  G  marbles  with  one  penny,  I  can  buy 
30  marbles  with  5  pennies." 

And  this  is  termed  reasoning !  And  to  train  children,  by  forced  and 
artificial  processes,  to  go  through  such  a  rigmarole  of  words,  is  recom 
mended  as  a  means  of  cultivating  their  reasoning  power  and  of  improving 
their  power  of  expression !  It  is  not  pretended  that  children  by  such 
a  process  become  more  expert  in  reckoning.  On  the  contrary,  their 
movements  as  ready  reckoners  are  retarded  by  it.  Instead  of  learning 
to  jump  at  once  to  the  conclusion,  lightning-like,  by  a  sort  of  intuitional 
process,  which  is  the  very  essence  of  an  expert  accountant,  they  learn 
laboriously  to  stay  their  march  by  a  cumbersome  and  confusing  circum- 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  42  J 

locution  of  words.  And  the  expenditure  of  time  and  toil  needed  to  ac 
quire  these  formulas  of  expression,  which  nine  times  out  of  ten  are  to 
those  young  minds  the  mere  dicta  magistri,  is  justified  on  the  ground 
that  the  children,  if  not  learning  arithmetic,  are  learning  to  reason. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  I  do  not  advocate  the  disuse  of  expla 
nations.  Let  teachers  explain,  let  children  give  explanations.  Let  the 
rationale  of  the  various  processes  through  which  the  child  goes,  receive  a 
certain  amount  of  attention.  But  the  extreme  into  which  some  are  now- 
going,  in  primary  education,  is  that  of  giving  too  much  time  to  explana 
tion  and  to  theory,  and  too  little  to  practice.  We  reverse,  too,  the  order  of 
nature  in  this  matter.  What  it  now  takes  weeks  and  months  to  make 
clear  to  the  immature  understanding,  is  apprehended  at  a  later  day  with 
ease  and  delight  at  the  very  first  statement.  There  is  a  clear  and  consis 
tent  philosophy  underlying  this  whole  matter.  It  is  simply  this.  In  the 
healthy  and  natural  order  of  development  in  educating  a  young  mind, 
theory  should  follow  practice,  not  precede  it.  Children  learn  the  practice 
of  arithmetic  very  young.  They  take  to  it  naturally,  and  learn  it  easily, 
and  become  very  rapidly  expert  practical  accountants.  But  the  science 
of  arithmetic  is  quite  another  matter,  and  should  not  be  forced  upon 
them  until  a  much  later  stage  in  their  advancement. 

To  have  a  really  correct  apprehension  of  the  principle  of  decimal  nota 
tion,  for  instance,  to  understand  that  it  is  purely  arbitrary,  and  that  we 
might  in  the  same  way  take  any  other  number  than  ten  as  the  base  of  a 
numerical  scale, — that  we  might  increase  for  instance  by  fives,  or  eights, 
or  nines,  or  twelves,  just  as  well  as  by  tens, — all  this  requires  considera- 
able  maturity  of  intellect,  and  some  subtlety  of  reasoning.  Indeed  I 
doubt  whether  many  of  the  pretentious  sciolists,  who  insist  so  much  on 
young  children  giving  the  rationale  of  everything,  have  themselves  ever 
yet  made  an  ultimate  analysis  of  the  first  step  in  arithmetical  notation. 
Many  of  them  would  open  their  eyes  were  you  to  tell  them,  for  instance, 
that  the  number  of  fingers  on  your  two  hands  may  be  just  as  correctly 
expressed  by  the  figures  11,  12,  13,  14,  or  15,  as  by  the  figures  ten, — a 
truism  perfectly  familiar  to  every  one  acquainted  with  the  generalizations 
of  higher  arithmetic.  Yet  it  is  up-hill  work  to  make  the  matter  quite 
clear  to  a  beginner.  We  may  wisely  therefore  give  our  children  at  first 
an  arbitrary  rule  for  notation.  We  give  them  an  equally  arbitrary  rule 
for  addition.  They  accept  these  rules  and  work  upon  them,  and  learn 
thereby  the  practical  operations  of  arithmetic.  The  theory  will  follow  in 
due  time.  When  perfectly  familiar  with  the  practice  and  the  forms  of 
arithmetic,  and  sufficiently  mature  in  intellect,  they  awaken  gradually 
and  surely,  and  almost  without  an  effort,  to  the  beautiful  logic  which  un 
derlies  the  science. 

How  do  we  learn  language  in  childhood  ?  Is  it  not  solely  on  authority 
and  by  example  ?  A  child  who  lives  in  a  family  where  no  language  is 
used  but  that  which  is  logically  and  grammatically  correct,  will  learn  to 


422  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

speak  with  logical  and  grammatical  correctness  long  before  it  is  able  to 
give  any  account  of  the  processes  of  its  own  mind  in  the  matter,  or  indeed 
to  understand  those  processes  when  explained  by  others.  In  other  words, 
practice  in  language  precedes  theory.  It  should  do  so  in  other  things. 
The  parent  who  should  take  measures  to  prevent  a  child  from  speaking  its 
mother  tongue,  except  just  so  far  and  so  fast  as  it  could  understand  and 
explain  the  subtle  logic  which  underlies  all  language,  would  be  quite  as 
wise  as  the  teacher  who  refuses  to  let  a  child  become  expert  in  practical 
reckoning,  until  it  can  understand  and  explain  at  every  step  the  rationale 
of  the  process, — who  will  not  suffer  a  child  to  learn  the  multiplication 
table  until  it  has  mastered  the  metaphysics  of  the  science  of  numbers,  and 
can  explain  with  the  formalities  of  syllogism  exactly  how  and  why  seven 
times  nine  make  sixty -three. 

These  illustrations  have  carried  me  a  little,  perhaps,  from  my  subject. 
But  it  seemed  necessary  to  show  that  I  am  not  beating  the  air.  I  have 
feared  lest,  in  our  very  best  schools,  in  the  rebound  from  the  exploded 
errors  of  the  old  system,  we  have  unconsciously  run  into  an  error  in  the 
opposite  extreme. 

My  position  on  the  particular  point  now  under  consideration,  may  be 
summed  up  briefly,  as  follows :  1.  In  developing  the  faculties,  we  should 
follow  the  order  of  nature.  2.  The  faculties  of  memory  and  faith  should 
be  largely  exercised  and  cultivated  in  childhood.  3.  While  the  judgment 
and  the  reasoning  faculty  should  be  exercised  during  every  stage  of  the 
intellectual  development,  the  appropriate  season  for  their  main  develop 
ment  and  culture  is  near  the  close,  rather  than  near  the  beginning,  of  an 
educational  course.  4.  The  methods  of  reasoning  used  with  children 
should  be  of  a  simple  kind,  dealing  largely  in  direct  intuitions,  rather  than 
formal  and  syllogistic.  5.  It  is  a  mistake  to  spend  a  large  amount  of 
time  and  effort  in  requiring  young  children  formally  to  explain  the  ration 
ale  of  their  intellectual  processes,  and  especially  in  requiring  them  to  give 
such  explanations  before  they  have  become  by  practice  thoroughly  famil 
iar  with  the  processes  themselves. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  set  forth,  in  the  first  place,  what  a  Nor 
mal  School  is,  namely,  a  seminary  for  professional  training  in  the  art  and 
science  of  teaching;  and,  secondly,  to  show,  with  some  particularity  and 
variety  of  illustration,  what  teaching  is,  in  its  very  root  and  essence  ;  and 
to  make  the  matter  plainer,  I  have  attempted  to  show  the  difference  be 
tween  teaching  and  training,  and  to  explain  some  two  or  three  out  of  very 
many  different  modes  of  teaching,  and  to  discuss  briefly  one  of  the  many 
points  that  are  involved  in  the  philosophy  of  education.  Some  distinct 
consideration  of  these  subjects,  which  come  up  continually  for  discussion 
in  a  Normal  School,  seemed  to  be  the  very  best  line  of  argument  for 
showing  the  necessity  of  such  an  institution.  To  appreciate  the  full  force 
of  this  argument,  it  would  be  necessary,  indeed,  to  consider  the  vast  array 
of  similar  and  connected  subjects  which  beset  the  teacher's  path,  and 


PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS.  423 

which  there  is  not  time  now  even  to  enumerate.  £et  me  merely  name 
some  few  of  these  subjects. 

The  Monitorial  method  of  teaching. 

The  Catechetical  method. 

The  Explanatory  method. 

The  Synthetical  method. 

The  Analytical  method. 

Modes  of  securing  in  a  large  school  all  the  while  something  for  all  the  chil 
dren  to  dj. 

Modes  of  teaching  particular  branches :  as  Spelling,  Reading,  Mental  Arith 
metic,  Written  Arithmetic,  Grammar,  Geography,  Composition,  Drawing,  Pen 
manship,  Vocal  Music,  &c. 

School  apparatus  and  means  for  visible  illustration. 

The  development  and  cultivation  of  the  faculties  of  observation,  attention, 
memory,  association,  conception,  imagination,  &c. 

Modes  of  inspiring  scholars  with  enthusiasm  in  study,  and  of  cultivating  hab 
it?  of  self-reliance. 

Topics  and  times  for  introducing  oral  instruction. 

Teaching  with  and  without  books. 

Object  teaching. 

The  formation  of  museums,  and  collections  of  plants,  minerals,  &c. 

Exchange  of  specimens  of  penmanship,  maps,  drawings,  minerals,  &c.,  with 
other  schools. 

School  examinations.  Their  object,  and  the  different  modes  of  conducting 
them. 

School  celebrations,  festivals,  and  excursions. 

The  daily  preparation  which  a  teacher  should  make  for  school. 

Circumstances  which  make  a  teacher  happy  in  his  work. 

Requisites  for  success  in  teaching. 

Causes  of  failure  in  teaching. 

Course  to  be  pursued  in  organizing  a  new  school. 

Course  to  be  pursued  in  admitting  new  scholars. 

Making  an  order  of  exercises. 

Making  a  code  of  rules. 

Keeping  registers  of  attendance  and  progress. 

Duties  of  the  teacher  to  the  parents  and  to  school  directors. 

Opening  and  closing  exercises  of  a  school. 

Moral  and  religious  instruction  and  influences. 

Modes  of  cultivating  among  children  a  love  of  truth,  honesty,  benevolence, 
nud  other  virtues. 

Modes  of  preventing  lying,  swearing,  stealing,  and  other  vices. 

Modes  of  securing  cleanliness  of  person,  neatness  of  dress,  courtesy  of  lan 
guage,  and  gentleness  of  manners. 

Modes  of  preserving  the  school-house  and  appurtenances  from  defacement. 

Keeping  the  school-room  in  proper  condition  as  to  temperature  and  ventila 
tion. 

Length  of  school  day. 

Length  and  frequency  of  recess. 

Games  to  be  encouraged  or  discouraged  at  recess. 

Modes  of  preventing  tardiness. 

Causes  by  which  the  health  of  children  at  school  is  promoted  or  injured. 

Modes  of  establishing  the  teacherrs  authority. 

Modes  of  securing  the  scholar's  affections. 

Mode  of  treating  refractory  children. 

Modes  of  bringing  forward  dull,  backward  children. 

Modes  of  preventing  whispering. 

The  use  of  emulation. 

Prizes  and  rewards. 

But  T  pause.     The  very  enumeration  of  such  a  list,  it  [seems  to  me, 


424  PROFESSIONAL  EDUCATION  OF  TEACHERS. 

shows  of  itself,  with  overwhelming  force,  how  urgent  is  the  necessity 
that  the  teacher  should  have  a  time  and  an  institution  for  considering 
them,  and  for  obtaining  in  regard  to  them  definite,  well  settled  views. 
Some  of  these  questions  come  up  for  practical  decision  every  day  of  a 
teacher's  life,  and  they  are  of  too  serious  import  to  be  left  to  the  unpre 
meditated  exigencies  of  the  moment  of  execution.  In  a  Normal  School  the 
novice  hears  these  subjects  discussed  by  teachers  and  professors  of  learn 
ing  and  experience,  and  he  is  made  acquainted  with  the  general  usage 
of  the  most  successful  members  of  the  profession.  He  enters  upon  his 
important  and  responsible  work,  not  only  fortified  with  safeguards  against 
mistake,  but  furnished  with  a  kind  of  knowledge  which  reduces  to  a 
minimum  his  chances  of  failure,  and  increases  to  almost  a  certainty  his 
chances  of  success. 


NORMAL  METHODS  OE  TEACHING. 


WE  shall  bring  together  in  this  article  examples  of  methods  of 
teaching  and  training — of  study  and  recitation,  adopted  and  illus 
trated  in  our  schools  for  the  professional  training  of  teachers,  and 
inculcated  or  followed  by  prominent  educators. 

FATHER  PIERCE  AT  LEXINGTON,  MASS. 

The  following  letter,  addressed  in  1851,  by  Mr.  Peirce,  to  Hon.  Henry 
Barnard,  then  Superintendent  of  Common  Schools  in  Connecticut,  em 
bodies  his  own  views  as  to  the  aims  of  his  labors  as  Principal  of  the  Nor 
mal  School  at  Lexington,  and  West  Newton. 

"  DKAR  SIR: — You  ask  me  'what  I  aimed  to  accomplish,  and  would  aim  to 
accomplish  now,  with  my  past  experience  before  me,  in  a  Normal  School.' 

I  answer  briefly,  that  it  was  my  aim,  and  it  would  be  my  aim  again,  to  make 
better  teachers,  and  especially,  better  teachers  for  our  common  schools ;  so 
that  those  primary  seminaries,  on  which  so  many  depend  for  their  education, 
might  answer,  in  a  higher  degree,  the  end  of  iheir  institution  .  Yes,  to  make 
better  teachers;  teachers  who  would  understand,  and  do  their  business  better; 
teachers,  who  should  know  more  of  the  nature  of  children,  of  youthful  devel 
opments,  more  of  the  subjects  to  be  taught,  and  more  of  the  true  methods  of 
leaching;  who  would  teach  mure  philosophically,  more  in  harmony  with  the 
natural  development  of  the  young  mind,  with  a  truer  regard  to  the  order  and 
connection  in  which  the  different  branches  of  knowledge  should  be  presented  to 
it,  and,  of  course,  more  successfully.  Again,  I  felt  that  there  was  a  call  for  a 
truer  government,  a  higher  training  and  discipline,  in  our  schools;  that  the  ap 
peal  to  the  rod,  to  a  sense  of  shame  and  fear  of  bodily  pain,  so  prevalent  in 
them,  had  a  tendency  to  make  children  mean,  secretive,  and  vengeful,  instead 
of  high-minded,  truthful,  and  generous ;  and  I  wished  to  see  them  in  the  hands 
of  teachers,  who  could  understand  the  higher  and  purer  motives  of  action,  as 
gratitude,  generous  affection,  sense  of  duty,  by  which  children  should  be  influ 
enced,  and  under  which  their  whole  character  should  be  formed.  In  short,  I 
was  desirous  of  putting  our  schools  into  the  hands  of  those  who  would  make 
them  places  in  which  children  could  learn,  not  only  to  read,  and  write,  and 
spell,  and  cipher,  but  gain  information  on  various  other  topics,  (as  accounts, 
civil  institutions,  natural  history,  physiology,  political  economy,  &c.)  which 
would  be  useful  to  them  in  after  life,  and  have  all  their  faculties,  (physical, 
intellectual  and  moral,)  trained  in  such  harmony  and  proportion,  as  would  re 
sult  in  the  highest  formation  of  character.  This  is  what  I  supposed  the  object 
of  Normal  Schools  to  be.  Such  was  my  object. 

But  in  accepting  the  charge  of  the  first  American  Institution  of  this  kind,  I 
did  not  act  in  the  belief  that  there  were  no  good  teachers,  or  good  schools 
among  us;  or  that  I  was  more  wise,  more  fit  to  teach,  than  all  my  fellows.  On 
the  contrary,  I  knew  that  there  were,  both  within  and  without  Massachusetts, 
excellent  schools,  and  not  a  few  of  them,  and  teachers  wiser  than  myself;  yet 
my  conviction  was  strong,  that  the  ratio  of  such  schools  to  the  whole  number  of 
schools  were  small ;  and  that  the  teachers  in  them,  for  the  most  part,  had  grown 
up  to  be  what  they  were,  from  long  observation,  and  through  the  discipline  of 
an  experience  painful  to  themselves,  and  more  painful  to  their  pupils. 

It  was  my  impression  also,  that  a  majority  of  those  engaged  in  school-keep 
ing,  taught  few  branches,  and  those  imperfectly,  that  they  possessed  little  fit 
ness  for  their  business,  did  not  understand  well,  either  the  nature  of  children  or 
the  subjects  they  professed  to  teach,  and  had  little  skill  in  the  art  of  teaching  or 
governing  schools.  I  could  not  think  it  possible  for  them,  therefore,  to  make 


426  CYRUS  PEIRCE. 

their  instructions  very  intelligible,  interesting,  or  profitable  to  their  pupils,  or 
present  to  them  the  motives  best  adapted  to  secure  good  lessons  and  good  con 
duct,  or,  in  a  word,  adopt  such  a  course  of  training  as  would  result  in  a  sound 
development  of  the  faculties,  and  the  sure  formation  of  a  good  character.  I 
admitted  that  a  skill  and  power  to  do  all  this  might  be  acquired  by  trial,  if 
teachers  continued  in  their  business  long  enough;  but  while  teachers  were  thus 
learning,  I  was  sure  that  pupils  must  be  suffering.  In  the  process  of  time,  a 
man  may  find  out  by  experiment,  (trial,)  how  to  tan  hides  and  convert  them  into 
leather.  But  most  likely  the  time  would  be  long,  and  he  would  spoil  many  be 
fore  he  got  through.  It  would  be  far  better  for  him,  we  know,  to  get  some 
knowledge  of  Chemistry,  and  spend  a  little  time  in  his  neighbor's  tannery,  be 
fore  he  sets  up  for  himself.  In  the  same  way,  the  farmer  may  learn  what 
trees,  and  fruits,  and  seeds,  are  best  suited  to  particular  soils,  and  climates,  and 
modes  of  culture,  but  it  must  be  by  a  needless  outlay  of  time  and  labor,  and 
the  incurring  of  much  loss.  If  wise,  he  would  first  learn  the  principles  and 
facts  which  agricultural  experiments  have  already  established,  and  then  com 
mence  operations.  So  the  more  I  considered  the  subject,  the  more  the  convic 
tion  grew  upon  my  mind,  that  by  a  judicious  course  of  study,  and  of  discipline, 
teachers  may  be  prepared  to  enter  on  their  work,  not  only  with  the  hope,  but 
almost  with  the  assurance  of  success.  I  did  not  then,  I  do  not  now,  (at  least 
in  the  fullest  extent  of  it,)  assent  to  the  doctrine  so  often  expressed  in  one  form 
or  another,  that  there  are  no  general  principles  to  be  recognized  in  education; 
no  general  methods  to  be  followed  in  the  art  of  teaching;  that  all  depends  upon 
the  individual  teacher;  that  every  principle,  motive  and  method,  must  owe  its 
power  to  the  skill  with  which  it  is  applied;  that  what  is  true,  and  good,  and 
useful  in  the  hands  of  one,  may  be  quite  the  reverse  in  the  hands  of  another; 
and  of  course,  that  every  man  must  invent  his  own  methods  of  teaching  and 
governing,  it  being  impossible  successfully  to  adopt  those  of  another.  To  me 
it  seemed  that  education  had  claims  to  be  regarded  as  a  science,  being  based  on 
immutable  principles,  of  which  the  practical  teacher,  though  he  may  modify 
them  to  meet  the  change  of  ever-varying  circumstances,  can  never  Jose  sight. 

That  the  educator  should  watch  the  operations  of  nature,  the  development  of 
the  mind,  discipline  those  faculties  whose  activities  first  appear,  and  teach  that 
knowledge  first,  which  the  child  can  most  easily  comprehend,  viz.,  that  which 
comes  in  through  the  senses,  rather  than  through  reason  and  the  imagi 
nation  ;  that  true  education  demands,  or  rather  implies  the  training,  strength 
ening,  and  perfecting  of  all  the  faculties  by  means  of  the  especial  exer 
cise  of  each;  that  in  teaching,  we  must  begin  with  what  is  simple  and 
known,  and  go  on  by  easy  steps  to  what  is  complex  and  unknown  ;  that  for 
true  progress  and  lasting  results,  it  were  better  for  the  attention  to  be  concen 
trated  on  a  few  studies,  and  for  a  considerable  time,  than  to  be  divided  among 
many,  changing  from  one  to  another  at  short  intervals ;  that  in  training  chil 
dren  we  must  concede  a  special  recognition  to  the  principle  of  curiosity,  a  love  of 
knowledge,  and  so  present  truth  as  to  keep  this  principle  in  proper  action;  that 
the  pleasure  of  acquiring,  and  the  advantage  of  possessing  knowledge,  may  be 
made,  and  should  be  made,  a  sufficient  stimulus  to  sustain  wholesome  exertion 
without  resorting  to  emulation,  or  medals,  or  any  rewards  other  than  those 
which  are  the  natural  fruits  of  industry  and  attainment;  that  for  securing  order 
and  obedience,  there  are  better  ways  than  to  depend  solely  or  chiefly  upon  the 
rod,  or  appeals  to  fear;  that  much  may  be  done  by  way  of  prevention  of  evil ; 
that  gentle  means  should  always  first  be  tried ;  that  undue  attention  is  given  to 
intellectual  training  in  our  schools,  to  the  neglect  of  physical  and  moral;  that 
the  training  of  the  faculties  is  more  important  than  the  communication  of 
knowledge;  that  the  discipline,  the  instruction  of  the  school-room,  should  bet 
ter  subserve  the  interests  of  real  life,  than  it  now  does; — these  are  some  of  the 
principles,  truths,  facts,  in  education,  susceptible,  I  think,  of  the  clearest  de 
monstration,  and  pretty  generally  admitted  now,  by  all  enlightened  educators. 

The  old  method  of  teaching  Arithmetic,  for  instance,  by  taking  up  some 
printed  treatise  and  solving  abstract  questions  consisting  of  large  numbers, 
working  blindly  by  what  must  appear  to  the  pupil  arbitrary  rules,  would  now 
be  regarded  as  less  philosophical,  less  in  conformitv  to  mental  development, 
than  the  more  modern  way  of  beginning  with  mental  Arithmetic,  using  practi 
cal  questions,  which  involve  small  numbers,  and  explaining  the  reason  of  eve 
ry  step  as  you  go  along. 


CYRUS  PEIRCE. 


427 


So  in  the  study  of  Grammar,  no  Normal  teacher,  whether  a  graduate  or  not, 
of  a  Normal  School,  would  require  his  pupils  to  commit  the  whole  text-book  to 
memory,  before  looking  at  the  nature  01  words,  and  their  application  in  the 
structure  of  sentences.  Almost  all  have  found  out  that  memorizing  the  Gram 
mar-book,  and  the  exercise  of  parsing,  do  very  little  toward  giving  one  a 
knowledge  of  the  English  language. 

Neither  is  it  learning  Geography,  to  read  over  and  commit  to  memory,  sta 
tistics  of  the  length  and  breadth  of  countries,  their  boundaries,  latitude  and  Ion- 
gitude,  fcc.,  &c.,  without  map  or  globe,  or  any  visible  illustration,  as  was  once 
the  practice.  Nor  does  the  somewhat  modern  addition  of  maps  and  globes 
much  help  the  process,  unless  the  scholar,  by  a  previous  acquaintance  with  ob 
jects  in  the  outer  world,  has  been  prepared  to  use  them.  The  shading  for 
mountains,  and  black  lines  for  rivers  on  maps,  will  be  of  little  use  to  a  child 
who  has  not  already  some  idea  of  a  mountain  and  a  river. 

And  the  teacher  who  should  attempt  to  teach  reading  by-  requiring  a  child  to 
repeat  from  day  to  day,  and  from  month  to  month,  the  whole  alphabet,  until  he 
is  familiar  with  all  the  letters,  as  was  the  fashion  in  former  days,  would  de 
serve  to  lose  his  place  and  be  sent  himself  to  school.  Could  any  thing  be  more 
injudicious  1  Is  it  not  more  in  harmony  with  Nature's  work,  to  begin  with  sim 
ple,  significant  words,  or  rather  sentences,  taking  care  always  to  select  such  as 
are  easy  and  intelligible,  as  well  as  short  1  Or,  if  letters  be  taken  first,  should 
they  not  be  formed  into  small  groups,  on  some  principle  of  association,  and  be 
combined  with  some  visible  object  1 

Surely,  the  different  methods  of  teaching  the  branches  above-mentioned,  are 
not  all  equally  good.  Teaching  is  based  on  immutable  principles,  and  may  be 
regarded  as  an  art. 

Nearly  thirty  years'  experience  in  the  business  of  teaching,  I  thought,  had 
given  me  some  acquaintance  with  its  true  principles  and  processes,  and  I  deem 
ed  it  no  presumption  to  believe  that  I  could  teach  them  to  others.  This  I  at 
tempted  to  do  in  the  Normal  School  at  Lexington  ;  1st.  didactically,  i.  e.  by 
precept,  in  the  form  of  familiar  conversations  and  lectures  ;  2d.  by  giving  every 
day,  and  continually,  in  my  own  manner  of  teaching,  an  exemplification  of  my 
theory ;  3d.  by  requiring  my  pupils  to  teach  each  other,  in  my  presence,  the 
things  which  I  had  taught  them;  and  4th.  by  means  of  the  Model  School, 
where,  under  my  general  supervision,  the  Normal  pupils  had  an  opportunity, 
both  to  prove  and  to  improve  their  skill  in  teaching  and  managing  schools.  At 
all  our  recitations,  (the  modes  of  which  were  very  various,)  and  in  other  con 
nections,  there  was  allowed  the  greatest  freedom  of  inquiry  and  remark,  and 
principles,  modes,  processes,  every  u*ng  indeed  relating  to  school-keeping,  was 
discussed.  The  thoughts  and  opinions  of  each  one  were  thus  made  the  proper 
ty  of  the  whole,  and  there  was  infused  into  all  hearts  a  deeper  and  deeper  inter 
est  in  the  teachers'  calling.  In  this  way  the  Normal  School  became  a  kind  of 
standing  Teachers'  Institute. 

But  for  a  particular  account  of  my  manner  and  processes  at  the  Normal 
School,  allow  me  to  refer  you  to  a  letter  which  I  had  the  honor,  at  your  request, 
to  address  to  you  from  Lexington,  Jan.  1,  1841,  and  which  was  published  in 
the  Common  School  Journal,  both  of  Connecticut  and  Massachusetts,  (vol.  3.) 

What  success  attended  my  labors,  I  must  leave  to  others  to  say.  I  acknowl 
edge,  it  was  far  from  being  satisfactory  to  myself.  Still  the  experiment  con 
vinced  me  that  Normal  Schools  may  be  made  a  powerful  auxiliary  to  the  cause 
of  education.  A  thorough  training  in  them,  1  am  persuaded,  will  do  much  to 
ward  supplying  the  want  of  experience.  It  will  make  the  teachers'  work  easier, 
surer,  better.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  Normal  pupils  are  much  indebted 
for  whatever  of  fitness  they  possess  for  teaching,  to  the  Normal  School.  They 
uniformly  profess  so  to  feel.  I  have,  moreover,  made  diligent  inquiry  in  regard 
to  their  success,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say,  that  it  has  been  manifestly 
great.  Strong  testimonials  to  the  success  of  many  of  the  early  graduates  of  the 
Lexington  (now  W.  Newton)  Normal  School,  were  published  with  the  8th  Re 
port  of  the  late  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Education,  and  may  be  found  in  the 
7th  vol.  of  the  Massachusetts  Common  School  Journal. 

But  it  is  sometimes  asked,  (and  the  inquiry  deserves  an  answer,)  Allowing 
that  teaching  is  an  art,  and  that  teachers  may  be  trained  for  their  business, 
have  we  not  High  Schools  and  Academies,  in  which  the  various  school  branch 
es  are  well  taught  ?  May  not  teachers  in  them  be  prepared  for  their  workl 


4o8  CYRUS  PEIRCE. 

Where  is  the  need  then  of  a  distinct  order  of  Seminaries  for  training  teachers  1 
I  admit  we  have  Academies,  High  Schools,  and  other  schools,  furnished  with 
competent  teachers,  in  which  is  excellent  teaching;  but  at  the  time  of  the  es 
tablishment  of  the  Normal  Schools  in  Massachusetts,  there  was  not,  to  my 
knowledge,  any  first-rate  institution  exclusively  devoted  to  training  teachers 
for  our  common  schools;  neither  do  I  think  there  is  now  any.  except  the  Nor 
mal  Schools.  And  teachers  can  not  be  prepared  for  their  work  anywhere  else, 
so  well  as  in  seminaries  exclusively  devoted  to  this  object.  The  art  of  teach 
ing  must  be  made  the  great,  the  paramount,  the  only  concern.  It  must  not 
come  in  as  subservient  to,  or  merely  collateral  with  any  thing  else  whatever. 
And  again,  a  Teachers'  Seminary  should  have  annexed  to  it,  or  rather  as  an 
integral  part  of  it,  a  model,  or  expeiimental  school  for  practice. 

Were  I  to  be  placed  in  a  Normal  School  again,  the  only  difference  in  my 
aim  would  be  to  give  moie  atteniion  to  the  development  of  the  faculties,  to 
the  spirit  and  motives  by  which  a  teacher  should  be  moved,  to  physical  and 
moral  education,  to  the  inculcation  of  good  principles  and  good  manners. 

In  conclusion,  allow  me  to  recapitulate.  It  was  nfy  aim,  and  it  would  be  my 
aim  again,  in  a  Normal  School,  to  raise  up  for  our  common  schools  especially, 
a  better  class  of  teachers, — teachers  who  would  not  only  teach  more  and  better 
than  those  already  in  the  field,  but  who  would  govern  better;  teachers,  who 
would  teach  in  harmony  with  the  laws  of  juvenile  development,  who  would  se 
cure  diligent  study  and  good  lessons  and  sure  progress,  without  a  resort  to  emula 
tion  and  premiums,  and  good  order  from  higher  motives  than  the  fear  of  the  rod  or 
bodily  pain  ;  teachers,  who  could  not  only  instruct  well  in  the  common  branch 
es,  as  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  Ace.,  but  give  valuable  information  on  a  va 
riety  of  topics,  such  as  accounts,  history,  civil  institutions,  political  economy, 
and  physiology;  bring  into  action  the  various  powers  of  children,  and  prepare 
them  lor  the  duties  of  practical  life  ;  teachers,  whose  whole  influence  on  their 
pupils,  direct  and  indirect,  should  be  good,  tending  to  make  them,  not  only  good 
readers,  geographers,  grammarians,  arithmeticians,  Ace.,  but  good  scholars, 
good  children,  obedient,  kind,  respectful,  mannerly,  truthful ;  and  in  due  time, 
virtuous,  useful  citizens,  kind  neighbors,  high-minded,  noble,  pious  men  and 
women.  And  this  I  attempted  to  do  by  inculcating  the  truth  in  the  art  of  teach 
ing  and  governing,— the  truth  in  all  things;  and  by  giving  them  a  living  exam 
ple  of  it  in  mv  own  practice." 

The  following  extracts  are  taken  from  the  letter  of  Mr.  Pierce,  addressed  to 
Mr.  Barnard,  Jan.  1,  1841,  and  published  in  the  Conn.  Common  School  Journal. 

You  ask  for  a  full  account  of  my  manner  of  instruction  in  the  art  of  Teach 
ing.  This,  it  is  not  easy  to  give.  From  what  I  say,  you  may  get  some  idea 
of  what  I  attempt;  and  of  the  manner  of  it.  Two  things  1  have  aimed  at, 
especially  in  this  school.  I.  To  teach  thoroughly  the  principles  of  the  several 
branches  studied,  so  that  the  pupils  may  have  a  clear  aud  fuU  understanding  of 
them.  2nd,  to  teach  the  pupils  by  my  own  example,  us  well  as  by  precept^ 
the  best  way  of  teaching  the  same  things  effectually  to  others.  I  have  four  dif 
ferent  methods  of  recitation.  1st,  by  question  and  answer;  2nd,  by  conversa 
tion  ;  3d,  by  calling  on  one,  two,  three,  more  or  less,  to  give  an  analysis  of  the 
whole  subject  contained  in  the  lesson,  and  4th,  by  requiring  written  analyses 
in  which  the  ideas  of  the  author  are  stated  in  the  language  of  the  pupil.  I  do 
not  mean  that  these  are  all  practiced  at  the  same  exercise.  The  students  uu- 
.  derstand  that,  at  all  the  recitations,  they  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  suggest  que 
ries,  doubts,  opinions.  At  all  the  recitations  we  have  more  or  less  of  discus 
sion.  Much  attention  is  paid  to  the  manner  in  which  the  pupils  s?t  forth,  or 
state  their  positions.  I  am  ever  mingling,  or  attempting  to  mingle,  at  these 
exercises,  theory  and  example;  frequently  putting  the  inquiry  to  them,  not 
only;  'how  do  you  understand  such  and  such  a  statement;'  but,  '  how  would 
you  express  such  and  such  a  sentiment,  or  explain  such  a  principle,  or  illustrate 
such  a  position  to  a  class,  which  you  may  bo  teaching?'  'Let  me,'  I  say  to 
them,  '  hear  your  statements,  or  witness  your  modes  of  illustrating  and  ex 
plaining.'  In  this  connection  I  frequently  call  them  to  the  blackboard  for  visi 
ble  representation.  They  make  the  attempt :  I  remark  upon  their  manner  of 
doing  it,  and  endeavor  to  show  them  in  what  respect  it  may  bo  improved. 
(428) 


FATHER  PIERCE  AT  LEXINGTON.  429 

Sometimes,  instead  of  reciting  the  lesson  directly  to  me,  I  ask  them  to  imagine 
themselves  for  the  time,  acting  in  the  capacity  of  teachers,  to  a  class  of  young 
pupils,  and  to  adopt  a  style  suitable  for  such  a  purpose.  At  many  of  our  reci 
tations,  more  than  half  the  time  is  spent  with  reference  to  teaching  '  the  art  of 
teaching.'  Besides  delivering  to  the  school  a  written  Formal  Lecture  once  a 
week,  in  which  I  speak  of  the  qualifications,  motives,  and  duties  of  teachers, 
the  discipline,  management,  and  instruction  of  schools,  and  the  manner  in 
which  the  various  branches  should  be  taught,  I  am  every  day,  in  conversations 
or  a  familiar  sort  of  lectures,  taking  up  and  discussing  more  particularly  and 
minutely  some  point  or  points  suggested  by  the  exercises  or  occurrences,  it  may 
be  of  the  day,  relating  to  the  internal  operations  of  the  school-room,  or  to  phys 
ical,  moral  or  intellectual  education  : — 1  say  much  about  the  views  and  motives 
of  teachers,  and  the  motives  by  which  they  should  attempt  to  stimulate  their 
pupils.  And  here  I  would  state  that  my  theory  goes  to  the  entire  exclusion 
of  the  premium  and  emulation  system,  and  of  corporal  punishment.  My  confi 
dence  in  it  is  sustained  and  strengthened  by  a  full  and  fair  experiment  for  more 
than  one  year  in  a  public  school  composed  of  seventy  scholars  of  both  sexes. 
I  am  constantly  calling  up  real  or  supposed  cases,  and  either  asking  the  pupils 
what  they  would  do  in  such  case,  or  stating  to  them  what  I  would  do  myself, 
or  both.  As  a  specimen  of  such  questions,  take  the  following,  viz. :  on  going 
into  a  school  as  teacher,  what  is  the  first  thing  you  would  do?  How  will  you 
proceed  to  bring  to  order,  and  arrange  your  school?  Will  you  have  many  rules 
or  few?  Will  you  announce  beforehand  a  code  of  laws,  or  make  special  rules 
as  the}7-  may  be  needed?  What  motives  do  you  purpose  to  appeal  to,' and  what 
m'Mns  will  you  adopt  to  make  your  pupils  interested  in  their  studies?  What 
method  will  you  adopt  to  teach  spelling,  reading,  arithmetic?  What  will  you 
do  with  the  perseveringly  idle  and  troublesome  ?  What  will  you  do  if  your 
scholars  quarrel?  lie?  swear?  What  will  you  do  if  a  scholar  tells  you  he  word 
do  as  he  is  directed?  If  a  question  in  any  ordinary  lesson,  say  arithmetic, 
comes  up,  which  you  can  not  solve  readily  4  what  will  be  your  resort?  Should 
you  be  chiefly  ambitious  to  teach  rnuch,  or  to  teach  thoroughly?  How  would 
you  satisfy  yourself  that  your  teaching  is  thorough,  effectual?  To  what 
branches  shall  you  attach  most  importance,  and  why?  Will  you  aim  chiefly  to 
exercise  the  faculties,  or  communicate  instruction  ?  Besides  these  daily  dis 
cussions  or  conversations,  we  have  a  regu'ar  debate  every  Saturday,  in  which 
the  principles  involved  in  these  and  similar  questions  are  discussed. 

Reading,  I  teach  by  oral  inculcation  of  the  principles  as  contained  in  Porters 
Rhetorical  Reader  (which  strike  me  as  in  the  main  correct),  and  by  example ; 
reading  myself  before  the  whole  class;  hearing  the  pupils  read,  and  then  read 
ing  the  same  piece  myself;  pointing  out  their  faults,  and  calling  upon  them  to 
read  again  and  again,  and  even  the  third  and  fourth  time.  They  also  read  to 
each  other  in  my  presence.  This  is  a  most  difficult  art  to  teach.  Very  few 
good  readers  are  to  be  found  either  in  our  schools  or  elsewhere.  Spelling  I 
teach  both  orally  and  by  v;rl'dng  from  the  reading  lesson,  for  I  think  each 
method  lias  its  advantages.  Orthography  has  not,  }'et  received  quite  its  merited 
attention  in  our  schools.  Mo^.t  persons  in  business  life  have  to  write',  few 
comparatively  are  called  upon  to  read  publicly,  for  this  reason  it  is  more  im 
portant  to  be  a  correct  speller  than  a  fine  reader. 

I  have  adopted  no  text-book  in  teaching  Geography.  Worcester's  is  clmfly 
used.  My  method  has  been  to  give  out  a  subject  (a  particular  country,  e.  g.) 
for  examination.  The  class  make  search,  using  what  maps  and  books  they  have 
at  command,  and  get  all  the  information  of  every  kind  they  can,  statistical,  his 
torical,  geographical,  of  the  people,  manners,  religion,  government,  business, 
&c.,  and  at  the  recitation  we  have  the  results  of  their  researches.  Giving  to 
each  a  separate  subject,  I  sometimes  require  the  pupils  to  make  an  imaginary 
voyage  or  journey  to  one,  two,  three,  or  more  countries,  and  give  an  account 
of  every  thing  on  their  return.  If  I  were  to  teach  Geography  to  a  class  of 
young  beginners,  I  should  commence  with  the  town  in  which  they  live. 

In  Grammar,  I  have  adopted  no  particular  text-book.  I  am  teaching  a  class 
of  beginners  in  the  model  school  without  a  book. 

In  Moral  Instruction  we  use  both  Waj-land  and  Combe;  and  our  recitations 
are  conducted  as  above  described.  There  are  no  subjects  in  which  scholars 
manifest  more  interest  than  in  questions  of  morals.  This  I  have  noticed  in  all 


430  FATHER  PIERCE  AT  LEXINGTON. 

schools.  It  shows  how  easy  it  would  be  to  do  what  is  so  much  needed,  if  tho 
teachers  are  disposed;  viz.,  to  cultivate  the  moral  faculties.  In  connection 
with  reading  the  Scriptures  at  the  opening  of  tho  school,  it  is  my  practice  to 
remark  on  points  of  practical  duty  us  far  as  I  can  go  on  common  ground. 

Allow  me  to  express  my  high  gratification  in  your  late  visit  to  the  Normal 
School.  You  have  had  much  opportunity  to  see  "and  compare  many  schools. 
For  any  suggestions  in  regard  to  what  you  saw  at  Lexington  for  the  improve 
ment  of  the  school,  I  would  be  very  thankful.  I  have  undiminished  confidence 
in  the  feasibility  of  the  plan  of  Normal  Schools,  if  sustained  by  the  sentiment 
of  the  community,  it  could  be  allowed  to  continue  in  operation  long  enough  to 
make  a  fair  experiment.  But  on  this  point  I  have  increasing  fears. 

That  there  could  ever  have  been  any  serious  doubt  of  the  permanence  of  an 
institution  for  the  professional  training  of  teachers  in  the  State  of  Massachu 
setts,  as  is  expressed  in  the  closing  paragraph  of  Mr.  Pierce's  letter,  can  with 
difficulty  be  credited  in  1872,  when  Normal  Schools,  Teachers'  Institutes,  and 
City  Training  Schools,  are  liberally  provided  in  every  State,  and  nearly 
every  large  city — as  essential  features  in  any  efficient  system  of  public  in 
struction.  And  yet  such  was  the  anxiety  felt  by  Mr.  Maun,  Mr.  Everett  (at 
that  time  Governor  of  Massachusetts),  and  Mr.  Dwight,  whose  benefaction  of 
$10,000  (or  so  much  as  remained  unexpended),  it  was  then  under  consideration 
in  the  House  of  Representatives  to  return,  that  the  writer  of  this  note,  in 
March,  1841,  at  the  urgent  request  of  Mr.  Mann,  spent  two  weeks  in  Boston, 
to  manifest  to  members  of  the  Legislature  the  interest  felt  by  educators  out  of 
the  State  in  a  lair  trial  of  the  first  experiment  of  a  State  Normal  School. 


Mr.  Pierce  died  at  West  Newton,  on  the  Cth  of  April,  1860,  ageJ 
seventy. 


NORMAL  AIMS  AND  METHODS. 


431 


NICHOLAS  TILLINGHAST  AT  BRIDGEWATER. 

PROFESSOR  TILLINGHAST  was  educated  at  the  United  States  Military  Aca 
demy  at  West  Point,  and  brought  to  the  instruction  of  pupil  teachers  of  com 
mon  schools,  an  accurate  mathematical  training,  and  the  "  before  the  black 
board  method  of  illustration  and  recitation,"  which  characterized  that  institu 
tion.  Before  entering  on  his  duties  as  principal,  he  spent  six  months  at  the 
Barre  State  Normal  School,  as  an  assistant  and  pupil  of  Prof.  Newman,  who 
had  filled  the  chair  of  rhetoric  and  literature  at  Bowdoin  College.  Prof.  T. 
left  his  mark  not  only  on  the  blackboard,  but  on  the  mental  character  and 
methods  of  his  pupils.  The  following  passages  are  from  a  letter  addressed  by 
him  to  Mr.  Barnard,  printed  in  Barnard's  Normal  Schools  of  the  United  States. 

There  are,  it  seems  to  me,  grave  defects  in  the  constitution  of  my  school. 
Four  years  would,  in  my  judgment,  be  profitably  given  to  the  subjects  which 
wa  touch  on  in  one.  If  pupils  must  be  taught  subjects  in  these  schools,  as  I 
think  they  must  for  a  time  under  the  best  organization,  the  course  ought  to  ex 
tend  over  three  years  at  least.  I  think  it  would  be  a  better  plan  than  the 
present,  to  receive  pupils  for,  say  twenty-one  weeks,  and  to  give  that  time  to 
reading,  spelling,  arithmetic,  and  geography;  and  in  another  twenty-one 
weeks,  to  take  up  reading,  spelling,  physiology,  grammar ;  so  that  only  a  few 
studies  should  be  in  the  school  at  a  time,  and  teachers  might  go  for  a  term 
without  interfering  with  their  teaching  school.  The  great  evil  now,  in  my 
school,  is  the  attempt  to  take  up  so  many  studies,  most  persons  inverting  the 
truth,  and  supposing  the  amount  acquired  the  important  thing,  and  the  study 
unimportant.  But  I  should  be  content  if  I  could  bring  pupils  into  such  a  state 
of  knowledge  that  they  could  recognize  her  when  overtaken.  A  very  few 
studies,  and  long  dwelling  on  them — this  is  my  theory.  I  have  no  especial  be 
lief  in  teaching  others  methods  of  teaching :  I  do  not  mean,  that  the  subject 
should  be  entirely  passed  by ;  but  that  pupils  should  not  be  trained  into,  or  di 
rected  into  particular  processes;  it  seems  to  me  that  each  well-instructed  mind 
will  arrive  at  a  m3thod  of  imparting,  better  for  it  than  any  other  method.  I 
therefore  have  tried  to  bring  my  pupils  to  get  at  results  for  themselves,  and  to 
show  them  how  they  may  feel  confident  of  the  truth  of  their  results.  I  have 
sought  criticism  from  my  scholars  on  arf  my  methods,  processes,  and  results; 
aimed  to  have  them,  kindly,  of  course,  but  freely,  criticise  each  other;  and 
the3r  are  encouraged  to  ask  questions,  and  propose  doubts.  I  call  on  members 
of  the  classes  to  hear  recitations,  and  on  the  others  to  make  remarks,  thus  ap 
proving  and  disproving  one  another  ;  they  are  called  upon  to  make  up  general 
exercises,  and  to  deliver  them  to  their  classes,  sometimes  on  subjects  and  in 
styles  fitted  to  those  whom  they  address;  sometimes  they  are  bid  to  imagine 
themselves  speaking  to  children.  I  find  I  am  getting  more  into  details  than  I 
intend,  or  you  wish.  My  idea  of  a  Normal  School  is,  that  it  should  have  a  term 
of  four  years;  that  those  studies  should  be  pursued  that  will  lay  a  foundation 
on  which  to  build  an  education.  I  mean,  for  example,  that  algebra  should  bo 
thoroughly  Studied  as  the  foundation  for  arithmetic;  that  geometry  and  trigo 
nometry  should  be  studied,  by  which,  with  algebra,-  to  study  natural  philoso 
phy,  Ac. ;  the  number  of  studies  should  be  comparatively  small,  but  much  time 
K^CR  to  them.  I,  of  course,  do  not  intend  to  write  a  list  of  studies,  and  what 
I  have  said  above  is  only  for  illustration:  the  teacher  should  be  so  trained  as 
to  be  above  his  text-books.  Whatever  has  been  done  in  teaching  in  all  coun 
tries,  differerat  methods,  the  thoughts  of  the  best  minds  on  the  science  and  art 
of  instruction,  should  be  laid  before  the  neophyte  teachers.  In  a  proper  Nor 
mal  School  there  should  be  departments,  and  the  ablest  men  put  over  them, 
each  in  his  own  department.  Who  knows  more  than  one  branch  well? 

I  send  herewith  a  catalogue  of  my  school,  which  will  give  you  some  idea  of 
its  osteology:  what  of  life  these  bones  have,  others  must  judge.  But  when 
shall  the  whole  vision  of  the  Prophet  be  fulfilled  in  regard  to  the  teachers  of 
the  land, — "And  the  breath  oarne  into  them,  and  they  lived  and  stood  upon 
their  feet  (not  on  those  of  any  author),  an  exceeding  great  army." 

God  prosper  the  work,  and  may  your  exertions  in  the  cause  be  gratefully  re- 


432  METHOD  OF  RECITATION. 


DR    VVAYLAND.-METHOD  OF  RECITATION. 

Dr.  "WAYLASD,  in  the  preface  to  his  text-book  on  Moral  Science,  suggests  a 
few  hints  as  to  the  manner  in  which  it  may  be  most  successfully  used  in  tho 
class-room. 

1.  In  the  recitation-room,  let  neither  instructor  nor  pupil  ever  make  u?e  of 
the  book. 

2.  Let  the  portion  previously  assigned  for  the  exercise  be  so  mastered  by  the 
pupil,  both  in  plan  and  illustration,  that  he  will  be  able  to  recite  it  in  order,  and 
explain  the  connection  of  the  different  parts  with  each  other,  without  the  ne 
cessity  of  assistance  from  his  instructor.     To  give  the  language  of  the  author 
is  not,  of  course,  desirable.     It  is  sufficient  if  the  idea  be  given.     The  questions 
of  the  instructor  should  have  respect  to  principles  that  may  be  deduced  from  the 
text,  practical  application  of  the  doctrines,  objections  which  may  be  raised,  &c. 

3.  Let  the  lesson  which  was  recited  on  one  day,  be  invariably  reviewed  on 
the  day  succeeding. 

4.  As  soon  as  any  considerable  progress  has  been  made  in  the  work,  let  a  re 
view  from  the  beginning  be  commenced.     This  should  comprehend,  for  one  ex 
ercise,  as  much  as  had  been  previously  recited  in  two  or  three  days;  and 
should  be  confined  to  a  brief  analysis  of  the  argument,  with  a  mere  mention  of 
the  illustrations. 

5.  As  soon  as  the  whole  portion  thus  far  recited  has  been  reviewed,  let  a 
new  review  be  commenced,  and  continued  in  the  same  manner;  and  thus  on 
successively,  until  the  work  is  completed.     By  pursuing  this  method,  a  class 
will,  at  any  period  of  the  course  of  study,  be  enabled,  with  the  slightest  effort, 
to  recall  whatever  they  have  already  acquired ;  and  when  the  work  is  com 
pleted,  they  will  be  able  to  pursue  the  whole  thread  of  the  argument,  from  tho 
beginning  to  the  end ;  and  thus  to  retain  a  knowledge,  not  only  of  the  indi 
vidual  principles,  but  also  of  their  relations  to  each  other. 

But  the  advantage  of  this  mode  of  study  is  not  confined  to  that  of  a  moro 
perfect  knowledge  of  this  or  of  any  other  book.  By  presenting  the  whole 
field  of  thought  at  one  view  before  the  mind,  it  will  cultivate  the  power  of 
pursuing  an  extended  range  of  argument;  of  examining  and  deciding  upon  a 
connected  chain  of  reasoning;  and  will,  in  no  small  degree,  accustom  the  stu 
dent  to  carry  forward  in  his  own  mind  a  train  of  original  investigation. 

I  have  been  emboldened  to  make  these  suggestions,  not  in  the  least  because 
I  suppose  the  present  work  worthy  of  any  peculiar  attention  from  an  instructor, 
but  simply  because,  having  been  long  in  the  habit  of  pursuing  this  method, 
and  having  witnessed  its  results  in  my  own  classes,  I  have  thought  it  my  duty 
to  suggest  it  to  those  who  are  engaged  in  the  same  profession  with  myself. 
Other  instructors  may  have  succeeded  better  with  other  methods.  I  have  suc 
ceeded  best  with  this. 

The  method  thus  indicated  he  caused  to  be  introduced  into  all  the  recitations 
of  the  college  to  which  it  is  applicable.  In  the  use  of  this  method,  the  classes 
generally  passed  over  less  ground  than  is  common  in  other  colleges,  but  could 
not  fail  to  understand  the  relations  of  each  discussion.  Especially  this  method 
cultivates  in  the  student  the  power  of  analysis.  If  he  is  required  to  state  the 
substance  of  each  paragraph  in  its  proper  relation  to  that  which  precedes  and 
to  that  which  follows,  he  must  fully  understand  its  meaning  and  its  bearing 
upon  the  rest.  He  learns  to  perceive  the  exact  significance  of  each  section 
and  sentence,  to  discriminate  between  thoughts  which  resemble  each  other,  and 
to  analyze  trains  of  thought.  His  own  conceptions  become  well  defined. 

The  following  suggestions  by  that  eminent  lawyer  and  scholar,  the  late 
Thomas  S.  Grimke  of  Charleston,  S.  C.,  are  of  tho  highest  practical  value; 
they  apply  the  method  of  Dr.  Wayland  to  a  still  closer  analysis,  and  more  fre 
quent  review  of  every  paragraph  and  chapter. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  AND  METHOD  OF  TEACHING 

PURSUED    AT   THE   WESTFIELD    STATE   NORMAL   SCHOOL. 
BY  J.   W.    DICKINSON,   A.   M.,   PRINCIPAL. 


1.     THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  TEACHING. 

IF  the  mind  is  led  to  act  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  its  nature,  it 
will  acquire  the  inclination  and  the  ability  to  obey  these  laws.  That  state 
of  the  mind  in  which  it  has  the  inclination  and  the  ability  to  obey  the 
laws  of  its  nature,  is  called  Education ;  and  the  mind  possessing  this  state, 
is  said  to  be  educated. 

This  definition  of  Education  makes  it  a  state  of  the  mind  and  not  a 
process.  There  is  but  one  process  by  which  the  mind  can  be  changed 
from  one  state  to  another,  and  that  process  is  found  in  the  mind's  own, 
activity. 

By  mental  activity,  knowledge  is  acquired,  and  the  knowledge  in  turn 
excites  activity,  but  it  is  activity  only  that  produces  a  change  in  the  pow 
ers  that  act. 

As  knowledge  is  both  the  product  and  the  occasion  of  mental  activity, 
knowledge  seems  to  combine  with  mental  activity  in  producing  the  state 
called  Education. 

That  which  produces  a  thing  is  the  cause  of  that  thing  ;  then  the  cause 
of  education  is  knowledge  and  mental  activity.  The  cause  of  education 
is  also  called  Instruction. 

The  term  Instruction  is  sometimes  used  to  signify  knowledge,  and  some 
times  to  signify  the  process  by  which  the  teacher  leads  his  pupils  to 
acquire  knowledge. 

The  word  Instruction  means  to  build  within,  and  may  well  be  limited 
in  its  application  to  mental  activity  and  knowledge,  which  we  have  shown 
build  up  to  perfection  the  mind  itself. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  teacher  to  present  in  a  right  manner  to  the  mind, 
objects  and  subjects  which  he  desires  to  be  the  occasion  of  mental  activity 
and  knowledge. 

The  process  of  presenting  occasions  is  Teaching. 

The  relations  that  Education,  Instruction,  and  Teaching,  hold  to  one 
another,  are  these :  Instruction  is  the  cause  of  Education,  and  Teaching 
is  the  occasion  of  Instruction. 

Teaching  must  have  for  its  object  one  of  two  ends,  Knowledge  or  Edu 
cation. 

Knowledge  as  an  end  is  valueless;  then,  the  end  towards  which  all 
intelligent  teaching  directs  its  attention,  is  Education. 
28 


4^4  TIIE  PHILOSOPHY  AND  METHOD  OF  TEACHING. 

If  Education  is  the  end  the  teacher  should  lead  his  pupil  to  attain, 
and  if  mental  activity  is  the  primary  cause  of  Education,  the  teacher 
must  provide  right  occasions  for  a  complete  and  perfect  mental  activity. 
The  ability  to  do  this  implies  a  knowledge  of  the  ways  in  which  the  mind 
acts. 

The  modes,  or  ways  of  mental  action,  arc  three ;  thinking,  feeling  and 
choosing. 

The  mind  thinking  is  called  the  Intellect :  the  mind  feeling  is  called  the 
Sensibilities  ;  the  mind  choosing  is  called  the  Will. 

The  activity  of  the  sensibilities  is  the  result  of  thinking ;  the  activity 
of  the  will  is  the  result  of  feeling, — therefore,  the  teacher  turns  his  atten 
tion  primarily  to  the  activity  of  the  Intellect. 

Every  Intellectual  act  is  an  act  of  comparison. 

The  Intellect  compares  for  perceptions,  for  general  notions,  for  judg 
ments,  and  for  reasoning. 

The  teacher  must  present  to  the  minds  of  the  pupils,  as  occasions  for 
these  different  acts  of  comparison,  subjects  and  objects,  named  in  proper 
order,  for  a  course  of  study. 

The  course  of  study  is  divided  into  two  courses  :  the  one  being  an  Ele 
mentary,  the  other  a  Scientific  course. 

In  the  Elementary  course,  the  mind  is  excited  to  activity  in  acquiring 
a  knowledge  of  facts. 

This  knowledge  of  facts  is  to  be  used  as  the  occasion  of  Scientific 
knowledge. 

A  complete  and  perfect  course  of  study,  will  name  objects  and  subjects 
sufficient  in  number,  and  of  the  right  kind,  to  guide  the  teacher  in  pre 
senting  occasions  to  the  minds  of  his  pupils,  for  making  all  kinds  of  com 
parisons;  for  comparing  all  kinds  of  objects  ;  for  comparing  all  kinds  of 
relations,  and  for  making  the  comparisons  in  the  order,  and  in  the  manner 
required  by  the  mind,  as  its  powers  are  developed. 

These  ar.e  the  principles  which  constitute  the  philosophy  of  teaching. 

2.    MODE  OF  TEACHING. 

There  are  two  ways  of  teaching.  One  way  consists  in  presenting  ob 
jects  and  subjects  first  as  wholes,  for  general  knowledge,  then  the  parts 
and  their  relations  for  particular  knowledge.  The  other  way  consists  in 
first  presenting  parts  of  things,  and  the  relations  of  the  parts,  for  partic 
ular  knowledge,  then  the  whole  made  up  of  these  parts  and  of  their  rela 
tions,  for  general  knowledge. 

These  two  ways  of  teaching  are  called  Modes,  or  Methods.  The  first 
method  is  called  the  Analytic,  the  second  the  Synthetic  method. 

A  synthetic  method  of  study  is  impossible ;  as  a  method  of  teaching  it 
is  faulty  for  two  reasons : 

1st  The  application  of  the  method  requires  the  teacher  to  present  as 
occasions  for  mental  activity  and  knowledge,  parts  of  wholes,  not  as  parts, 
but  as  independent  individual  things,  that  are  not  seen  to  hold  any  rela- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  AND  METHOD  OF  TEACHING.  435 

tion  to  the  wholes  of  which  they  are  parts,  until  the  relation  has  been 
established  by  the  teacher. 

2d.  The  method  requires  the  teacher  to  do  the  work  that  belongs  to  the 
student. 

The  application  of  the  Analytic  method  requires  the  teacher  to  assign 
lessons  for  study,  by  the  use  of  topics  made  out  according  to  the  follow 
ing  rules : 

1st.  The  objects  and  subjects  to  be  presented  for  study,  should  be  of 
such  a  kind  as  are  adapted  to  call  into  exercise  the  powers  of  the  mind  in 
accordance  with  the  time  and  order  of  the  development  of  these  powers. 

2d.  The  first  topics  assigned  should  be  those  that  lead  the  pupil  to 
study  for  Elementary  knowledge. 

3d.  The  first  topic  in  any  study  should  require  the  pupil  to  search  for 
a  general  knowledge  of  the  object  or  subject  of  study. 

4th.  The  minor  topics  should  present  the  parts  of  objects  in  a  natural 
order,  and  of  subjects  in  a  logical  order,  and  require  the  pupil  to  study 
for  particular  knowledge. 

5th.  The  topics  should  lead  the  pupil  to  exhaust  the  subject. 

Language  is  not  to  be  considered  the  primary  source  of  knowledge, 
but  the  mind  is  to  be  made  conscious  of  having  the  ideas  and  thoughts 
to  be  expressed  by  the  language  used,  before  the  language  is  employed. 

This  is  done  by  actually  bringing  into  the  presence  of  the  mind  the 
object  of  study. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  teacher  to  excite  the  minds  of  his  pupils  to  such 
mental  activity  as  will  lead  to  the  state  called  Education,  by  bringing  into 
their  presence,  in  a  right  manner,  the  thing  to  be  studied,  and  by  guiding 
them  to  a  knowledge  of  the  facts  and  truths  he  would  have  them  know. 

All  lessons  are  to  be  taught  orally  by  the  teacher,  in  such  a  manner 
that  he  will  do  nothing  except  furnish  an  occasion  for  knowledge. 

The  pupil  should  acquire  the  knowledge  by  his  own  mental  activity. 

The  lesson  thus  taught  will  furnish  for  the  pupil  topics  properly  ar 
ranged  for  study,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  topics  sufficient  to  enable  him 
to  continue  to  study  them  intelligently  and  profitably. 

Text-books  may  be  put  into  the  hands  of  the  pupils  to  be  used  as  ref. 
erence  books.  As  text-books  are  sometimes  used,  they  take  away  the 
possibility  of  independent  mental  activity  on  the  part  of  both  teacher 
and  pupil. 

The  pupil  having  prepared  his  lesson,  is  to  recite  before  the  class  upon 
the  topic  or  topics,  assigned  at  the  time  by  the  teacher. 

He  is  to  develop,  without  questions  by  the  teacher,  the  topics  assigned 
him,  illustrating  carefully  the  ideas  and  thoughts  he  expresses  in  words, 
before  the  expressions  are  made,  observing  to  follow  the  same  Analytic 
method  in  recitation  that  was  observed  by  the  teacher  in  assigning  the 
topics,  and  by  himself  in  studying  them. 

Both  the  teacher  and  the  class  are  to  observe  carefully  the  pupil  re 
citing,  with  reference  to  his  knowledge,  and  his  mode  of  teaching  or 
reciting. 


436  TUE  PHILOSOPHY  A-VD  METHOD  OF  TEAGIIIKX 

After  the  pupil  has  completed  his  recitation,  the  teacher  and  pupils  may 
make  criticisms,  for  the  purpose  of  correcting  mistakes,  and  for  calling 
attention  to  new  truth. 

The  pupil  should  be  permitted,  and  even  required,  to  use  his  active 
powers  in  obtaining  knowledge,  as  well  as  his  passive  powers  in  receiv 
ing  it. 

The  teacher  should  be  constantly  aware  of  the  nature  of  his  work,  and 
of  the  end  to  be  secured,  and  of  the  relation  the  means  he  employs  holds 
to  that  end. 

Successful  teaching  implies  the  existence  of  a  course  of  study  that  is 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  mind  as  its  powers  are  developed.  It  requires 
the  employment  of  the  right  method  in  applying  this  course,  and  the 
presence  of  a  teacher  who  understands  the  philosophy  of  his  work. 

The  teacher  must  be  supplied  with  all  external  means  necessary  for 
his  teaching,  and  with  the  cordial  sympathy  of  all  in  authority  over  him, 
and  then  he  can  so  apply  his  philosophical  method  as  to  obtain  a  better 
and  higher  result  than  the  schools  have  yet  known. 


DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE.  437 

We  introduce  the  following  as  specimens  of  Mr.  Page's  method  of 
illustrating  different  processes  of  teaching. 

POURING-IN    PROCESS. 

This  consists  in  lecturing  to  a  class  of  children  upon  every  subject  which  oc 
curs  to  the  teacher,  it  being  his  chief  aim  to  bring  before  them  as  many  facts  in  a 
limited  time  as  possible.  It  is  as  if  he  should  provide  himself  with  a  basket  of 
sweetmeats,  and  every  time  he  should  come  within  reach  of  a  child,  should  seize 
him,  and  compel  him  to  swallow — regardless  of  the  condition  of  his  stomach — 
whatever  trash  he  should  happen  first  to  force  into  his  mouth.  Children  are  in 
deed  fond  of  sweetmeats,  but  they  do  not  like  to  have  them  administered — and 
every  physiologist  knows  there  is  such  a  thing  as  eating  enough,  even  of  an  agree 
able  thing,  to  make  one  sick,  and  thus  produce  loathing  forever  after.  Now  many 
teachers  are  just  such  misguided  caterers  for  the  mind.  They  are  ready  to  seize 
upon  the  victims  of  their  kindness,  force  open  their  mental  gullets,  and  pour  in, 
without  mercy  and  without  discretion,  whatever  sweet  thing  they  may  have  at 
hand,  even  though  they  surfeit  and  nauseate  the  poor  sufferer.  The  mind,  by 
this  process,  becomes  a  mere  passive  recipient,  taking  in  without  much  resistance 
whatever  is  presented,  till  it  is  full. 

"A  passive  recipient!"  said  one  to  h's  friend,  "  what  is  a  passive  recipient  ?" 
"A  passive  recipient,"  replied  his  friend,  u  is  a  two-gallon  jug.  It  holds  just  two 
gallons,  and,  as  it  is  made  of  potters'  ware,  it  can  never  hold  but  just  two  gallons." 
This  is  not  an  unfit  illustration  of  what  I  mean  by  making  the  mind  a  passive  re 
cipient.  Whenever  the  teacher  does  not  first  excite  inquiry,  first  prepare  the 
mind  by  waking  it  up  to  a  desire  to  know,  and,  if  possible,  to  find  out  by  itself, 
but  proceeds  to  think  for  the  child,  and  to  give  him  the  results,  before  they  are 
desired,  or  before  they  have  been  sought  for — he  makes  the  mind  of  the  child  a 
two-gallon  jug,  into  which  he  may  pour  just  two  gallons,  but  no  more.  And 
if,  day  after  day,  he  should  continue  to  pour  in,  day  alter  day  he  may  expect  that 
what  he  pours  in  will  all  run  over.  The  mind,  so  far  as  retention  is  concerned, 
will  act  like  the  jug;  that  is,  a  part  of  what  is  poured  in  to-day  will  be  diluted 
by  a  part  of  that  which  is  forced  in  to-morrow,  and  that  again  will  be  partially 
displaced  and  part;ally  mingled  with  the  next  day's  pouring,  till,  at  length,  there 
will  be  nothing  characteristic  left.  But,  aside  from  retention,  there  is  a  great  dif 
ference  between  the  jug  and  the  mind.  The  former  is  inert  material,  and  may  be 
as  good  a  jug,  after  such  use.  as  before.  But  the  mind  suffers  by  every  unsuc 
cessful  effort  to  retain. 

This  process  of  lecturing  children  into  imbecility  is  altogether  too  frequently 
practiced  ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  intelligent  teachers  will  pause  and  inquire, 
before  they  pursue  it  further. 

The  other  process  to  which  I  wish  to  call  attention,  is  that  which,  for  the  sake 
of  distinguishing  it  from  the  first,  I  shall  denominate  the 

DRAWING-OUT     PROCESS. 

This  consists  in  asking  what  the  lawyers  call  leading  questions.  It  is  prac 
ticed,  usually,  whenever  the  teacher  desires  to  help  along  the  pupil.  "John," 
says  the  teacher,  when  conducting  a  recitation  in  Long  Division,  "John,  what  is 
the  number  to  be  divided  called  ?"  John  hesitates.  ''  Is  it  the  dividend  ?"  says 
the  teacher.  "  Yes,  sir  ;  the  dividend."  "  Well,  John,  what  is  that  which  is 
left,  after  dividing,  called  ? — the  remainder — is  it?"  "  Yes,  sir."  A  visitor  now 
enters  the  room,  and  the  teacher  desires  to  show  off  John's  talents.  "  Well,  John, 
of  what  denomination  is  the  remainder  ?" 

John  looks  upon  the  floor. 

"  Is  n't  it  always  the  same  as  the  dividend,  John  ?*' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

41  Very  well,  John,"  says  the  teacher,  soothingly,  "  what  denomination  is  this 
dividend  ?"  pointing  to  the  work  on  the  board.  " Dollars,  is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  dollars." 

"  Very  well ;  now  what  is  this  remainder?" 

John  hesitates. 

"  Why,  dollars  too,  is  n't  it  ?"  says  the  teacher. 


438  DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE. 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  dollars  !  "  says  John,  energetically,  while  the  teacher  compla 
cently  looks  at  the  visitor,  to  see  if  he  has  noticed  how  correctly  John  has  an 
swered  ! 

A  claw  is  called,  to  be  examined  in  history.  They  have  committed  the  text 
book  to  memory  ;  that  is,  they  have  learned  the  words.  They  go  on  finely  for  a 
time.  At  length  one  hesitates.  The  teacher  adroitly  asks  a  question  in  the  lan 
guage  of  the  text.  Thus:  "Early  in  the  morning,  on  the  II th  of  September, 
what  did  the  whole  British  army  do?"  The  pupil,  thus  timely  reassured,  pro 
ceeds  :  "Early  in  the  morning,  on  the  1 1  th  of  September,  the  whole  British  army, 
drawn  up  in  two  divisions,  commenced  the  expected  assault."  Here  again  she 
pauses.  The  teacher  proceeds  to  inquire :  "  Well — '  Agreeably  to  the  plan  of 
Howe,  the  right  wing'  did  what?'' 

Pupil.     "Agreeably  to  the  plan  of  Howe,  the  right  wing"1' — 

Teacher.     ''The  right  wing,  commanded  by  whom?" 

Pupil.  uOh  !  'Agreeably  to  the  plan  of  Howe,  the  right  wing,  commanded 
by  Knyphausen,  made  a  feint  of  crossing  the  Brandy  wine,  at  Chad's  Ford,'  "  &c. 

This  is  a  very  common  way  of  helping  a  dull  pupil  out  of  a  difficulty;  and  I 
have  seen  it  done  so  adroitly,  that  a  company  of  visitors  would  agree  that  it  was 
wonderful  to  see  how  thoroughly  the  children  had  been  instructed  ! 

I  may  further  illustrate  this  drawing-out  process,  by  describing  an  occurrence, 
which,  in  company  with  a  friend  and  fellow-laborer,  I  once  witnessed.  A  teach 
er,  whose  school  we  visited,  called  upon  the  class  in  Colburn's  First  Lessons. 
They  rose,  and  in  single  file  marched  to  the  usual  place,  with  their  books  in  hand, 
and  stood  erect.  It  was  a  very  good-looking  class. 

"  Where  do  you  begin  ?"  said  the  teacher,  taking  the  book. 

Pupils.     On  the  80th  page,  third  question. 

Teacher.     Read  it,  Charles. 

Charles.  (Reads.)  "  A  man,  being  asked  how  many  sheep  he  had,  said  that 
he  had  them  in  two  pastures ;  in  one  pasture  he  had  eight ;  that  three-fourths  of 
these  were  just  one-third  of  what  he  had  in  the  other.  How  many  were  there 
in  the  other  ?" 

Teacher.     "Well,  Charles,  you  must  first  get  one-fourth  of  eight,  must  you  not  ? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir. 

Teacher.     Well,  one-fourth  of  eight  is  two,  is  n't  it  ? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir ;  one-fourth  of  eight  is  two. 

Teacher.     Well,  then,  three-fourths  will  be  three  times  two,  won't  it  ? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir. 

Teacher.     Well,  three  times  two  are  six,  eh? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir. 

Teacher.  Very  well.  (A  pause.)  Now  the  book  says  that  this  six  is  just 
one-third  of  what  he  had  in  the  other  pasture,  don't  it? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir. 

Teacher.  Then,  if  six  is  one-third,  three-thirds  will  be — three  times  six, 
won't  it  ? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir. 

Teacher.     And  three  times  six  are — eighteen,  ain't  it  ? 

Charles.     Yes.  sir. 

Teacher.     Then  he  had  eighteen  sheep  in  the  other  pasture,  had  he  ? 

Charles.     Yes,  sir. 

Teacher.     Next ;  take  the  next  one. 

At  this  point  I  interposed,  and  asked  the  teacher  if  he  would  request  Charles 
to  go  through  it  alone.  "Oh,  yes,"  said  the  teacher,  "Charles,  you  may  do  it 
again."  Charles  again  read  the  question,  and — looked  up.  "  Well,"  said  the 
•teacher,  "You  must  first  get  one-fourth  of  eight,  nui>t  n't  you?"  "Yes,  sir." 
"  And  one-fourth  of  eight  is  two,  is  n't  it  ?"  "  Yes,  sir."  And  so  the  process 
went  on  as  before,  till  the  final  eighteen  sheep  were  drawn  out  as  before.  The 
teacher  now  looked  round,  with  an  air  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Now,  I  suppose 
you  are  satisfied.1' 

"  Shall  /  ask  Charles  to  do  it  again  ?'»  said  I.  The  teacher  assented.  Charles 
again  read  the  question,  and  again — looked  up.  I  waited,  and  he  waited  ; — but 
the  teacher  could  not  wait.  "  Why,  Charles,"  said  he,  impatiently ;  "you  want 
one-fourth  of  eight,  don't  you?"  "Yes,  sir,"  said  Charles,  promptly  ;  and  I 


DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE. 


439 


thought  best  not  to  insist  further  at  this  time  upon  a  repetition  of  "  yes,  s*Y,"  and 
the  class  were  allowed  to  proceed  in  their  own  way. 

This  is,  indeed,  an  extreme  case ;  and  yet  it  is  but  a  fair  sample  of  that  teacher's 
method  of  stupefying  mind.  This  habit  of  assisting  the  pupil,  to  some  extent,  is, 
however,  a  very  common  one,  and  as  deleterious  to  mind  as  it  is  common.  The 
teacher  should  at  once  abandon  this  practice,  and  require  the  scholar  to  do  the 
talking  at  recitation.  I  need  hardly  suggest  that  such  a  course  of  extraction  at 
recitation,  aside  from  the  waste  of  time  by  both  parties,  and  the  waste  of  strength 
by  the  teacher,  has  a  direct  tendency  to  make  the  scholar  miserably  superficial. 
For  why  should  he  study,  if  he  knows  from  constant  experience  that  the  teach 
er,  by  a  leading  question,  will  relieve  him  from  all  embarrassment  ?  It  has 
often  been  remarked,  that  "  the  teacher  makes  the  school."  Perhaps  in  no 
way  can  he  more  effectually  make  an  inefficient  school,  than  by  this  drawing-ouA 
process. 

I  look  upon  the  two  processes  just  described,  as  very  prominent  and  prevalent 
faults  in  our  modern  teaching ;  and  if,  by  describing  them  thus  fully,  I  shall  in 
duce  any  to  set  a  guard  upon  their  practice  in  this  particular,  I  shall  feel  amply 
rewarded. 

THE    MORE    EXCELLENT    WAY. 

It  is  always  a  very  difficult  question  for  the  teacher  to  settle,  "  How  far  shall  I 
help  the  pupil,  and  how  far  shall  the  pupil  be  required  to  help  himself?"  The 
teaching  of  nature  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  pupil  should  be  taught  mainly 
to  depend  on  his  own  resources.  This,  too,  I  think  is  the  teaching  of  common 
sense.  Whatever  is  learned,  should  be  so  thoroughly  learned,  that  the  next  and 
higher  step  may  be  comparatively  easy.  And  the  teacher  should  always  inquire, 
when  he  is  about  to  dismiss  one  subject,  whether  the  class  understand  it  so  wefl 
that  they  can  go  on  to  the  next.  He  may,  indeed,  sometimes  give  a  word  of  sug 
gestion  during  the  preparation  of  a  lesson,  and,  by  a  seasonable  hint,  save  the 
scholar  the  needless  loss  of  much  time.  But  it  is  a  very  great  evil,  if  the  pupils 
acquire  the  habit  of  running  to  the  teacher,  as  soon  as  a  slight  difficulty  presents 
itself,  to  request  him  to  remove  it.  Some  teachers,  when  this  happens,  will  send 
the  scholar  to  his  seat  with  a  reproof  perhaps  5  while  others,  with  a  mistaken  kind 
ness,  will  answer  the  question,  or  solve  the  problem  themselves,  as  the  shortest 
way  to  get  rid  of  it.  Both  these  courses  are,  in  general,  wrong.  The  inquirer 
should  never  be  frowned  upon  ;  this  may  discourage  him.  He  should  not  be  re 
lieved  from  labor,  as  this  will  diminish  his  self-reliance  without  enlightening  him  ; 
for  whatever  is  done  for  a  scholar,  without  his  having  studied  closely  upon  it  him 
self,  makes  but  a  feeble  impression  upon  him,  and  is  soon  forgotten.  The  true 
way  is,  neither  to  discourage  inquiry  nor  answer  the  question.  Converse  with 
the  scholar  a  little  as  to  the  principles  involved  in  the  question  ;  refer  him  to  prin 
ciples  which  he  has  before  learned,  or  has  now  lost  sight  of;  perhaps  call  his  at 
tention  to  some  rule  or  explanation  before  given  to  the  class;  go  just  so  far  as  to 
enlighten  him  a  little,  and  put  him  on  the  scent,  then  leave  him  to  achieve  the 
victory  himself.  There  is  a  great  satisfaction  in  discovering  a  difficult  thing  for 
one's  self — and  the  teacher  does  the  scholar  a  lasting  injury,  who  takes  this  pleas 
ure  from  him.  The  teacher  should  be  simply  suggestive,  but  should  never  take 
the  glory  of  a  victory  from  the  scholar,  by  doing  his  work  for  him  ;  at  least,  not 
until  he  has  given  it  a  thorough  trial  himself. 

The  skill  of  the  teacher,  then,  will  be  best  manifested,  if  he  can  contrive  to 
awaken  such  a  spirit  in  the  pupil,  that  he  shall  be  very  unwilling  to  be  assisted  ;  if 
he  can  kindle  up  such  a  zeal,  that  the  pupil  will  prefer  to  try  again  and  again  before 
he  will  consent  that  the  teacher  shall  interpose.  I  shall  never  forget  a  class  of 
boys,  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of  age,  who,  in  the  study  of  algebra,  had  im 
bibed  this  spirit.  A  difficult  question  had  been  before  the  class  a  day  or  two, 
when  I  suggested  giving  them  some  assistance.  "Not  to-day,  sir,"  was  the 
spontaneous  exclamation  of  nearly  every  one.  Nor  shall  I  forget  the  expression 
that  beamed  from  the  countenanced  one  of  them,  when,  elated  with  his  success, 
he  forgot  the  proprieties  -of  the  school,  and  audibly  exclaimed,  "/Ve  got  it  ! 
I  've  got  it  ?"  It  was  a  great  day  for  him  ;  he  felt,  as  he  never  before  had  felt, 
his  own  might.  Nor  was  it  less  gratifying  to  me,  to  find  that  his  fellows  were 
still  unwilling  to  know  his  method  of  solution.  The  next  day  a  large  number 
brought  a  solution  of  their  own,  each  showing  evidence  of  originality.  A  class 


440  DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE. 

that  has  once  attained  to  a  feeling  like  this,  will  go  on   to  educate  themselves, 
when  they  shall  have  left  the  school  and  the  living  teacher. 

As  to  the  communication  of  knowledge,  aside  from  that  immediately  connected 
with  school-studies,  there  is  a  more  excellent  way  than  that  of  pouring  it  in  by 
the  process  already  described.  It  is  but  just^that  I  should  give  a  specimen  of 
the  method  of  doing  this.  I  shall  now  proceed  to  do  so,  under  the  head  of 


WAKING    UP    MIND. 


The  teacher  of  any  experience  knows  that,  if  he  will  excite  a  deep  and  profit 
able  interest  in  his  school,  he  must  teach  many  things  besides  book- studies.  In 
our  common  schools,  there  will  always  be  a  company  of  small  children,  who,  not 
yet  having  learned  to  read  understandingly,  will  have  no  means  of  interesting 
themselves,  and  must  depend  mainly  upon  the  teacher  for  the  interest  they  take 
in  the  school.  This,  to  them,  is  perhaps  the  most  critical  period  of  their  lives. 
Whatever  impression  is  now  made  upon  them  will  be  enduring.  If  there  they 
become  disgusted  with  the  dullness  and  confinement  of  school,  and  associate  the 
idea  of  pain  and  repulsiveness  with  that  of  learning,  who  can  describe  the  injury 
done  to  their  minds?  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  teacher  is  really  skillful,  and  ex 
cites  in  them  a  spirit  of  inquiry,  and  leads  them  in  suitable  ways  to  observe,  to 
think,  and  to  feel,  that  the  school  is  a  happy  place  even  for  children,  it  is  one  great 
point  gained. 

I  may  suggest  here,  then,  that  it  would  be  well  to  set  apart  a  few  minutes  once 
a  day,  for  a  general  exercise  in  the  school ;  when  it  should  be  required  of  all  to 
lay  by  their  studies,  assume  an  erect  attitude,  and  give  their  undivided  attention 
to  whatever  the  teacher  may  bring  before  them.  Such  a  course  would  have  its 
physiological  advantages.  It  would  relieve  the  minds  of  all  for  a  few  minutes. 
The  erect  attitude  is  a  healthful  one.  It  would  also  serve  as  a  short  respite  from 
duty,  and  thus  refresh  the  older  scholars  from  study.  I  may  further  add,  that, 
for  the  benefit  of  these  small  children,  every  general  exercise  should  be  conducted 
with  reference  to  /Aem,  and  such  topics  should  be  introduced  as  they  can  understand. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  the  following  remarks  to  give  a  specimen  of  the  manner 
of  conducting  such  exercises,  for  a  few  days,  with  reference  to  leaking  vp  mind 
in  the  school,  and  also  in  the  district. 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  teacher  has  promised  that,  on  the  next  day,  at  ten  min 
utes  past  ten  o'clock,  he  shall  request  the  whole  school  to  give  their  attention  five 
minutes,  while  he  shall  bring  something  there  to  which  he  shall  call  the  attention, 
especially  of  the  little  boys  and  girls  under  seven  years  of  age.  This  very  an 
nouncement  will  excite  an  interest  both  in  school  and  at  home ;  and  when  the 
children  come  in  the  morning,  they  will  be  more  wakeful  than  usual  till  the  fixed 
time  arrives.  It  is  very  important  that  this  time  should  be  fixed,  and  that  the  ut 
most  punctuality  should  be  observed,  both  as  to  the  beginning  and  ending  of  the 
exercise  at  the  precise  time. 

The  teacher,  it  should  be  supposed,  has  not  made  such  an  announcement  with 
out  considering  what  he  can  do  when  the  time  arrives.  He  should  have  a  well- 
digested  plan  of  operation,  and  one,  which  he  knows  beforehand,  that  he  can  suc 
cessfully  execute. 

Let  us  suppose  that,  in  preparing  for  this  exercise,  he  looks  about  him  to  find 
some  object  which  he  can  make  his  text ;  and  that  he  finds  upon  his  study-table 
an  ear  of  corn.  lie  thinks  carefully  what  he  can  do  with  it,  and  then,  with  a  smile 
of  satisfaction,  he  puts  it  in  his  pocket  for  the  "general  exercise." 

In  the  morning  he  goes  through  the  accustomed  duties  of  the  first  hour,  per 
haps  more  cheerfully  than  usual,  because  he  finds  there  is  more  of  animation  and 
wakcfulness  in  the  school.  At  the  precise  time,  he  gives  the  signal  agreed  upon, 
and  all  the  pupils  drop  their  studies  and  sit  erect.  Wbei  there  is  perfect  silence 
and  strict  attention  by  all,  he  tikes  from  his  pocket  the  ear  of  corn,  and  in  silence 
holds  it  up  before  the  school.  The  children  smile,  for  it  is  a  familiar  object ;  and 
they  probably  did  not  suspect  they  were  to  bofed  with  corn. 

Teacher.  '*  Now,  children,"  addressing  himself  to  the  youngest,  "  I  am  going 
to  ask  you  only  one  question  to-day  about  this  ear  of  corn.  If  you  can  answer  it, 
I  shall  be  very  glad  ;  if  the  little  boys  an  girls  upon  the  front  seat  can  not  give 
the  answer,  I  will  let  those  in  the  next  seat  try  ;  and  so  on,  till  all  have  tried,  un 
less  our  time  should  expire  before  the  right  answer  is  given.  I  shall  not  be  sur- 


DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE.  441 

prised  if  none  of  you  give  the  answer  I  am  thinking  of.  As  soon  as  I  ask  the 
question,  those  who  are  under  seven  years  old,  that  think  they  can  give  an  an 
swer,  may  raise  their  hand.  WHAT  is  THIS  EAR  OF  CORN  FOR  ?  " 

Several  of  the  children  raise  their  hands,  and  the  teacher  points  to  one  after 
another,  in  order,  and  they  rise  and  give  their  answers. 

Mary.     It  is  to  feed  the  geese  with. 

John.     Yes,  and  the  hens  too,  and  the  pigs. 

Sarah.     My  father  gives  corn  to  the  cows. 

By  this  time  the  hands  of  the  youngest  scholars  are  all  down,  for,  having  been 
taken  a  little  by  surprise,  their  knowledge  is  exhausted.  So  the  teacher  says  that 
those  between  seven  and  ten  years  of  age  may  raise  their  hands.  Several  in 
stantly  appear.  The  teacher  again  indicates,  by  pointing,  those  who  may  give 
the  answer. 

Charles.     My  father  gives  corn  to  the  horses,  when  the  oats  are  all  gone. 

Daniel.     We  give  it  to  the  oxen  and  cows,  and  we  fat  the  hogs  upon  corn. 

Laura.  It  is  good  to  eat.  They  shell  it  from  the  cobs,  and  send  it  to  mill,  and 
it  is  ground  into  meal.  They  make  bread  of  the  meal,  and  we  eat  it. 

This  last  pupil  has  looked  a  little  further  into  domestic  economy  than  those  who 
answered  before  her.  But,  by  this  time,  perhaps  before,  the  five  minutes  have 
been  nearly  expended,  and  yet  several  hands  are  up,  and  the  faces  of  several  are 
beaming  with  eagerness  to  tell  their  thoughts.  Let  the  teacher  then  say,  "  We 
will  have  no  more  answers  to-day.  You  may  think  of  this  matter  till  to-morrow, 
and  then  I  will  let  you  try  again.  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  none  of  you  have 
mentioned  the  use  I  was  thinking  of,  though  I  confess  I  expected  it  every  minute. 
I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  no  one  of  you  give  this  answer  to-morrow.  I  shall  now 
put  the  ear  of  corn  in  my  desk,  and  no  one  of  you  must  speak  to  me  about  it  till 
to-morrow.  You  may  now  take  your  studies." 

The  children  now  breathe  more  freely,  while  the  older  ones  take  their  studies, 
and  the  next  class  is  called.  In  order  to  success,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
the  teacher  should  positively  refuse  to  hold  any  conversation  with  the  children  on 
the  subject,  till  the  next  time  for  "genera")  exercise." 

During  the  remainder  of  the  forenoon,  the  teacher  will  very  likely  observe 
some  signs  of  thoughtfulness  on  the  part  of  those  little  children  who  have  been 
habitually  dull  before.  And,  perhaps  some  child,  eager  to  impart  a  new  discovery, 
will  seek  an  opportunity  to  make  it  known  during  the  forenoon.  "  Wait  till 
to-morrow,"  should  be  the  teacher's  only  reply. 

Now  let  us  follow  thesj  children  as  they  are  dismissed,  while  they  bend  their 
steps  toward  home.  They  cluster  together  in  groups,  as  they  go  down  the  hill, 
and  they  seem  to  be  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation. 

"  I  do  n't  believe  it  has  any  other  use,"  says  John. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  has,"  says  Susan  ;  "our  teacher  would  not  say  so,  if  it  had  not. 
Besides,  did  you  not  see  what  a  knowing  look  he  had,  when  he  drew  up  his  brow, 
and  said  he  guessed  we  could  n't  find  it  out?" 

"  Well,  I  mean  to  ask  my  mother,"  says  little  Mary  5  "  I  guess  she  can  tell." 
-    By  and  by,  as  they  pass  a  field  of  corn,  Samuel  sees  a  squirrel  running  across 
the  street,  with  both  his  cheeks  distended  with  ^plunder.'1'- 

At  home,  too,  the  ear  of  corn  is  made  the  subject  of  conversation.  "  What  is 
an  ear  of  corn  for,  mother  1  "  says  little  Mary,  as  soon  as  they  have  taken  a  seat 
at  the  dinner  table. 

Mother.  An  ear  of  corn,  child  ?  why,  do  n't  you  know  ?  It  is  to  feed  the 
fowls,  and  the  pigs,  and  the  cattle ;  and  we  make  bread  of  it,  too — 

Mary.     Yes,  we  told  all  that ;  but  the  teacher  says  that  is  not  all. 

Mother.     The  teacher  ? 

Mary.  Yes,  ma'am  ;  the  teacher  had  an  ear  of  corn  at  school,  and  he  asked 
us  what  it  was  for  ;  and,  after  we  had  told  him  every  thing  we  could  think  of,  he 
said  there  was  another  thing  still.  Now  I  want  to  find  out,  so  that  /  can  tell  him. 

The  consequence  of  this  would  be  that  the  family — father,  mother,  and  older 
brothers  and  sisters — would  resolve  themselves  into  a  committee  of  the  whole  on 
the  ear  of  corn.  The  same,  or  something  like  this,  would  be  true  in  other  fami 
lies  in  the  district;  and,  by  the  next  morning,  several  children  would  have  some 
thing  further  to  communicate  on  the  subject.  The  hour  would  this  day  be  await 
ed  with  great  interest,  and  the  first  signal  would  produce  perfect  silence. 


442  DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE. 

The  teacher  now  takes  the  ear  of  corn  from  the  desk,  and  displays  it  before  the 
school  ;  and  quite  a  number  of  hands  are  instantly  raised,  as  if  eager  to  be  the 
first  to  tell  what  other  use  they  have  discovered  for  it. 

The  teacher  now  says,  pleasantly  :  "  The  use  I  am  thinking  of,  you  have  all  ob 
served,  I  have  no  doubt  }  il  is  a  very  important  use  indeed  ;  but,  as  it  is  a  little  out 
of  the  common  course,  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  you  can  not  give  it.  However, 
you  may  try." 

"  It  is  good  to  boil  !  "*  says  little  Susan,  almost  springing  from  the  floor  as  she 
speaks. 

"  Aud  it  is  for  squirrels  to  eat,"  says  little  Samuel,  "  I  saw  one  carry  away  a 
whole  mouthful,  yesterday,  from  the  cornfield." 

Others  still  mention  other  uses,  which  they  have  observed.  They  mention 
other  animals  which  feed  upon  it,  or  other  modes  of  cooking  it.  The  older  pu 
pils  begin  to  be  interested,  and  they  add  to  the  list  of  uses  named.  Perhaps, 
however,  none  will  name  the  one  the  teacher  has  in  his  own  mind  ;  he  should 
cordially  welcome  the  answer,  if  perchance  it  is  given  ;  if  none  should  give  it,  he 
may  do  as  he  thinks  best  about  giving  it  himself  on  this  occasion.  Perhaps,  if 
there  is  time,  he  may  do  so  —  after  the  following  manner:  — 

"  I  have  told  you  that  the  answer  I  was  seeking  was  a  very  simple  one  ;  it  is 
something  you  have  all  observed,  and  you  may  be  a  little  disappointed  when  I 
tell  you.  The  use  I  have  been  thinking  of  for  the  ear  of  corn  is  this:  —  It  is  to 
plant.  It  is  for  seed,  to  propagate  that  species  of  plant  called  corn."  Here  the 
children  may  look  disappointed,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  we  knew  that  before." 

The  teacher  continues  :  "  And  this  is  a  very  important  use  for  the  corn  ;  for  if 
for  one  year  none  should  be  planted,  and  all  the  ears  that  grew  the  year  before 
should  be  consumed,  we  should  have  no  more  corn.  This,  then,  was  the  great 
primary  design  of  the  corn  ;  the  other  uses  you  have  named  were  merely  second 
ary.  15ut  I  mean  to  make  something  more  of  my  ear  of  corn.  Mv  next  ques 

tion  is:  -  Do  OTHER  PLANTS  HAVE  SEEDS  ?  ?'f 

Here  is  a  new  field  of  inquiry.  Many  hands  are  instantly  raised  ;  but,  as  the 
five  minutes  by  this  time  have  passed,  leave  them  to  answer  at  the  next  time. 

"//are  other  plants  seeds?"  the  children  begin  to  inquire  in  their  own  minds, 
and  each  begins  to  think  over  a  list  of  such  plants  as  he  is  familiar  with.  When 
they  are  dismissed,  they  look  on  the  way  home  at  the  plants  by  the  roadside,  and 
when  they  reach  home,  they  run  to  the  garden.  At  the  table,  they  inquire  of 
their  parents,  or  their  brothers  and  sisters. 

At  the  next  exercise,  they  will  have  more  than  they  can  tell  in  five  minutes,  as 
the  results  of  their  own  observation  and  research.  When  enough  has  been  said 
by  the  children,  as  to  the  plants  which  have  seeds,  the  next  question  may  be  :  — 
Do  ALL  PLANTS  HAVE  BKEDs  ?  This  question  will  lead  to  much  inquiry  at  home, 
wherever  botany  is  not  well  understood.  There  are  many  who  are  not  aware 
that  all  plants  hnve  seeds.  Very  likely  the  ferns  (common  brakes,)  will  be  no 
ticed  by  the  children  themselves.  They  may  also  name  several  other  plants  which 
do  not  exhibit  their  apparatus  for  seed-bearing  very  conspicuously.  This  will 
prepare  the  way  for  the  teacher  to  impart  a  little  information.  Nor  is  there  any 
harm  in  doing  so,  whenever  he  is  satisfied  that  the  mind  has  been  suitably  exer 
cised.  The  mind  is  no  longer  a  "  passive  recipient  ;"  and  he  may  be  sure  that,  by 
inquiry,  it  has  increased  its  capacity  to  contain,  and  any  fact  which  now  answers 
inquiry,  will  be  most  carefully  stored  up. 

The  next  question  may  be  :  —  Do  TREES  HAVE  SEEDS  ?     As  the  children  next  go 


abo. 
in  one 


"The  children  themselves  will  be  sure  to  find  some  new  answers  to  such  questions  as  the 
ove.  In  giving  in  substance  this  lecture  to  a  gatherinc  of  te.n-ht-rs,  in  the  Autumn  of  184.~>, 
one  of  the  busy  villages  of  New  York,  where,  also,  the  pupils  of  one  of  the  district  schools 
were  present,  hy  invitation.  I  had  described  a  process  similar  to  that  which  has  been  dwelt 
upon  above.  I  had  given  the  supposed  answers  I'i>r  tin  first  day.  and  had  dctcnti.  d  the  chil 
dren  as  pressing  the  question  at  home.  Win  n  I  had  proceeded  M  f.tr  as  to  lak>>  tin  the  ear  of 
corn,  the  second  day,  and  had  spoken  of  ih«-  possibility  that  the  true  answer  to  the  question 
might  not  be  given,  I  turned  almost  instinctively  to  the  class  of  children  at  my  right,  saying, 
"Arw»  tf/tat  is  the  ear  of  corn  for?"  A  little  boy,  some  six  years  of  age,  who  had  swal 
lowed  every  word,  and  whose  face  glowed  as  if  ihere  was  not  room  enough  for  his  soul 
within  him.  bounded  upon  his  feel,  and  forgetting  the  publicity  of  the  place,  and  the  gravity 
of  (he  chairman  of  the  meeting,  clapping  his  hands  forcibly  together,  "./f  '«  to  pop!  "  he  ex 
claimed  emphatically,  very  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  audience.  His  mind  had  t*<en 
leaked  up. 

t  Plant  IB  here  used  iu  the  popular  sense. 


DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE.  443 

out,  their  eyes  are  directed  to  the  trees  above  them.  The  fruit-trees,  the  walnut, 
the  oak,  and  perhaps  the  pine,  will  be  selected  as  those  which  have  seeds.  They 
will,  however,  mention  quite  a  number  which  do  not,  or  which  they  think  do 
not  have  seeds.  Among  these  may  be  the  elm,  the  birch,  and  the  Lombardy 
poplar.  After  hearing  their  opinions,  and  the  results  of  their  observations,  take 
one  of  their  exceptions,  as  the  subject  of  the  next  question  : — Does  the  elm  have 
seeds  ?  This  will  narrow  their  inquiries  down  to  a  specific  case,  and  every  elm 
in  the  district  will  be  inquired  of  as  to  its  testimony  on  this  point. 

If  the  children  can  any  of  them  collect  and  give  the  truth  in  the  matter,  so 
much  the  better;  but  if  they,  after  inquiring  of  their  parents  and  their  grandpa 
rents,  as  I  have  known  a  whole  school  to  do,  come  back,  insisting  that  the  elm  has 
no  seeds  ;  after  hearing  their  reasons  for  their  belief,  and  perhaps  the  opinions  of 
their  parents,  you  may  promise  to  tell  them  something  about  it  at  the  next  exer 
cise.  This  will  again  awaken  expectation,  not  only  among  the  children  but  among 
the  parents.  All  will  wish  to  know  what  you  have  to  bring  out. 

Great  care  should  bo  taken  not  to  throw  any  disparagement  upon  the  opinions 
of  parents.  After  giving  the  signal  for  attention,  you  may  proceed  as  follows: — 

"//as  the  elm-tree  any  seeds?  Perhaps,  children,  you  may  recollect,  after  the 
cold  winter  has  passed  away,  that,  along  in  the  latter  part  of  March,  or  the  first 
of  April,  we  sometimes  have  a  warm,  sunny  day.  The  birds  perhaps  appear  and 
begin  to  sing  a  little,  and  as  you  look  up  to  the  elm,  you  notice  that  its  buds  seem 
to  swell,  and  you  think  it  is  going  to  put  out  its  leaves.  Every  body  says  we  are  go 
ing  to  have  an  early  spring.  But,  after  this,  the  cold,  frosty  nights  and  windy  days 
come  on  again,  and  then  you  think  the  leaves  can  not  come  out  so  early.  Now,  if 
you  observe  carefully,  the  leaves  do  not  come  out  till  about  the  20th  of  May,  or  per 
haps  the  1st  of  June.  Did  you  ever  see  any  thing  like  what  I  have  described  ?  " 

u  Yes,  sir  ;  we  remember  that." 

"  Well,  the  next  time  you  see  the  buds  begin  to  open,  just  break  off  a  twig  of  a 
good  large  tree,  and  you  will  find  they  are  not  the  leaf-buds.  But,  if  you  will 
watch  them  carefully  for  two  or  three  weeks,  you  will  find  that  each  bud  will  put 
out  some  beautiful  little  flowers,  brightly  colored,  and  slightly  fragrant.  If  you 
will  still  continue  to  watch  them,  you  will  find,  as  the  flowers  fall  off,  that  seed- 
vessels  are  formed,  shaped  very  much  like  the  parsnip  seed.  These  will  grow 
larger  and  larger  every  day,  and  by  and  by  they  will  turn  brown,  and  look  as  if 
they  were  ripe.  Just  about  this  time  the  leaves  will  come  out;  and  soon  after, 
these  see<ls,  during  some  windy  day  or  night,  will  all  fall  off.  The  ground  will 
be  covered  with  thousands  of  them.  Perhaps  you  have  seen  this." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  John  ;  "  Grandpa  calls  that  elm-dust." 

"Perhaps  next  year  you  can  watch  this,  and  ask  your  parents  to  examine  it 
with  you.  But  the  five  minutes  are  ended." 

Now,  information  thus  communicated  will  never  be  forgotten.  The  mind,  hav 
ing  been  put  upon  the  stretch,  is  no  longer  a  passive  recipient. 

The  next  question: — How  ARE  SEEDS  DISSEMINATED? — (of  course  explaining 
the  term — "disseminated.") 

This  will  bring  in  a  fund  of  information  from  the  pupils.  They  will  mention 
that  the  thistle-seed  flics,  and  so  does  the  seed  of  the  milkweed ;  that  the  burs  of 
the  burdock,  and  some  other  seeds,  are  provided  with  hooks, by  which  they  attach 
themselves  to  the  hair  of  animals  or  the  clothing  of  men,  and  ride  away  to  their 
resting-place,  which  may  be  a  hundred  miles  off.  Some  fall  into  the  water,  and  sail 
away  to  another  shore.  Some,  like  the  seed  of  the  touch-me-not,  are  thrown  to 
a  distance  by  the  bursting  of  the  elastic  pericarp ;  others,  as  nuts  and  acorns,  are 
carried  by  squirrels,  and  buried  beneath  the  leaves.  These  facts  would  mostly  be 
noticed  by  children,  when  once  put  upon  observation. 

Next  question  : — Are  plants  propagated  in  any  other  way  than  by  seeds  ? 

This  question  would  call  their  attention  to  the  various  means  of  natural  and  ar 
tificial  propagation,  by  layers,  by  offsets,  by  suckers,  by  grafting,  by  budding,  &c. 

Again : — Have  any  plants  more  ways  than  one  of  natural  propagation  ? 
Some  have  one  way  only — by  seeds,  as  the  annual  plants ;  some  have  two — by 
seeds,  and  by  roots,  as  the  potato ;  some  have  three — as  the  tiger-lily,  by  side- 
bulbs  from  the  roots,  by  stalk-bulbs,  and  by  the  seeds.  This  can  be  extended 
indefinitely. 

Let  it,  be  remembered  that  the  above  has  been  given  simply  as  a  specimen  of 


444  DAVID  PERKINS  PAGE. 

what  could  easily  be  done  by  an  ingenious  teacher,  with  as  common  a  thing  as 
an  ear  of  corn  for  the  text.  Any  other  thing  would  answer  as  well.  A  chip, 
a  tooth,  or  a  bone  of  an  animal,  a  piece  of  iron,  a  feather,  or  any  other  object, 
could  b.-  made  the  text  for  adroitly  bringing  in  the  uses  of  wood,  the  food  and 
habits  of  animals,  the  use  and  comparative  ralue  of  metals,  the  covering  of 
birds,  their  migration,  the  covering  of  animals,  &c.,  &c.  Let  the  teacher  but 
think  what  department  lie  will  dwell  upon,  and  then  he  can  easily  select  his  text; 
and,  if  he  has  any  tact,  he  can  keep  the  children  constantly  upon  inquiry. 
The  advantage*  of  the  above  course  are  many  and  great. 

1.  It  immediately  puts  the  minds  of  the  children   into  a  state  of  vigorous 
actitity.     They  feel  that  they  are  no  longer  passive  recipients.     They  are  incited 
to   discover  and   ascertain  for  themselves.     They  are,  therefore,  profitably  em 
ployed,  both  in  and  out  of  school ;  and,  as  a  consequence,  are  more  easily  governed. 
A  habit  of  observation  is  easily  cultivated  in  them  ;  and  what  an  advantage  is  this 
for  a  child  !     It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  remark  that  many  people  go  through  the 
world,  without  seeing  half  the  objects  which  are  brought  within  their  reach.     It 
would  be  the  same  to  them  if  their  eyes  were  half  the  time  closed.     If  they 
travel  through  a  country  presenting  the  most  beautiful  scenery,  or  the  most  inter 
esting  geological   features,  they  see  nothing.     They  grow  up,  among  all  the  won 
ders  of  God's  works,  amid  all  the  displays  of  his  wisdom,  of  his  design,  to  no 
purp«»se.     They  study  none  of  the  plans  of  nature  ;  and  by  all  the  millions  of  ar 
rangements  which  God  has  made,  to  delight  the  eye,  to  gratify  the  taste,  to  ex 
cite  the  emotions  of  pleasure  instead  of  pain,  they  are  neither  the  happier  nor 
the  wiser.     What  a  blessing,  then,  it  is  to  a  child,  to  put  his  mind  upon  inquiry; 
to  open   his  eyes  to  observe  what  his  Creator  intended  his  intelligent  creatures 
should  behold,  of  his  goodness,  his  wisdom,  his  power.     And  how  far  superior  is 
he,  who  teaches  a  child  to  see  for  himself,  and  to  think   for  himself,  to  him  who 
sees  and  thinks  for  the  child,  and  thus  practically  invites  the  pupil  to  dose  his  own 
eyes,  and  grope  in  darkness  through  the  instructive  journey  <<f  life. 

2.  //  i*  of  great  service  to  the  parents  in  the  district,  to  have  this  waking- 
vp  process  in  operation.     Our  children  are  sometimes  our  best  teachers.     J'arents 
are  apt  to  grow  rusty  in  their  acquirements,  and  it  is,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  designs 
of  providence,  that  the  inquisitiveness  of  childhood  should  preserve  them  from 
sinking  into  mental  inactivity.     Who  can  hear  the  inquiries  of  his  own  child  after 
knowledge,  without  a  desire  to  supply  his  wants  ?     Now  it  is  right  for  the  teacher 
to  use  this  instrumentality  to  wake  tin  mind  in  his  district.     Parents,  by  the  course 
I  have  recommended,  very  soon  become  interested  in  these  daily  questions  of  the 
teacher  ;  and  they  are  often  as  eager  to  know  what  is  the  next  question  as  the 
children  are  to  report  it.     This  course,  then,  will  supply  profitable  topics  of  con 
versation  at  the  fire-side,  and  very  likely  will  encourage  also  the  pursuit  of  useful 
reading.     It  will   moreover  soon   awaken  a  deeper  interest  in  the  school,  on  the 
part  of  the  parents.     They  will  begin  to  inquire  of  one  another  as  to  this  new 
measure;  and  when  they  find  by  conference  that  the  feeling  in  this  matter  is  be 
coming  general,  they  will  desire  to  visit  the  school,  to  witness  this  as  well  as  the 
other  operations  of  the  teacher.     This  will  secure  parental  co-operation  ;  and  thus, 
in  every  way,  the  influence  of  the  school  will  be  lightened.     It  is  no  small  thing 
for  a  teacher  to  enlist  the  interest  of  his  patrons  in  the  success  of  his  school ;  and 
this  is  the  most  happily  done  through  the  pupils  themselves. 

3.  //  wakes  np  the  teacher's  own  mind.     This  is  by  no  means  the  least  im 
portant  point  to  be  gained.     The  teacher,  by  the  very  nature  of  his  employment, 
by  daily  confinement  in  an  unhealthy  atmosphere,  by  teaching  over  and  o\vr  airain 
that  with  which  he  is  quite  familiar,  by  boarding  with  people  who  are  ineliri  d  to 
be  social,  and  by  the  fatigue  and  languor  with  which  lie  finds  hims*  If  oppressed 
every  night,  is  strongly  tempted  to  neirlect  his  own  improvement.     There  are  but 
few  who  rise  above  this  accumulation  of  impedimenta,  and  go  on,  in  spite  of  them, 
to  eminence   in   the  profession.     A  large  proportion   of  all  who  teach,  rely  upon 
the  attainments  with  which  they  commence;  and,  in  the  course  of  two  or  three 
years,  finding  themselves  behind  the  age,  they  abandon  the  employment.     This 
is  very  natural.     Any  man  who  treads  in  a  beaten  track,  like  a  h<xrse  in  a  mill, 
must  become  weary,  however  valuable  the  product  may  be  which  he  grinds  out. 
It  is  essential  that  he  should  keep  his  own  interest  awake  by  some  exercise  of  his 
ingenuity,  and   that  he  should   compel   himself  to  be  industrious  by  undertaking 
that  which  will  absolutely  demand  study. 


SAMUEL  READ  HALL.  445 

VISIT  TO  THE  TEACHERS'  SEMINARY,  ANDOVER,  MASS. 

THE  following  account  of  a  visit  to  the  Teachers'  Seminary,  at  Andover,  Mass., 
appeared  in  the  u Annals  of  Education  "  for  August,  1832  : — 

The  building  for  the  Teachers'  Seminary,  in  Andover,  is  pleasantly  situated  and  hand 
somely  constructed.  It  has  two  stories,  besides  the  basement.  I  could  not  help  con 
trasting  this  large,  elegant,  airy  mansion,  with  the  multitude  of  school-houses,  which 
are  every  where  to  be  found,  whose  narrow  dimensions  and  miserable  construction, 
better  fit  them  for  prisons  than  for  places  of  instruction. 

The  first  or  lower  story  embraces  the  principal  school  room,  a  spacious  entrance,  and 
a  room  for  a  library.  The  entrance  Contains  suitable  places  for  depositing  huts,  clothes, 
&c.,  and  a  stairway.  The  second  or  upper  story  includes,  besides  the  stairway  and 
entrance,  a  room  for  the  preparatory  school,  with  a  recitation  room  adjoining;  a  room 
for  geological,  mineralogical,  and  botanical  specimens,  and  a  room  for  lectures  in  phi 
losophy,  astronomy,  &c.,  with  the  necessary  apparatus. 

Part  of  the  basement  story  is  occupied  as  a  chemical  lecture  room  and  laboratory. 
The  rest  is  designed  as  a  workshop,  and  is,  to  some  extent,  already  used  for  that  purpose. 

All  these  rooms  are  furnished  with  appropriate  seats,  and  with  desks,  where  these 
are  necessary.  The  desks  and  seats  of  the  principal  school  room  are  on  an  improved 
plan.  The  seats  consist  of  a  chair  firmly  fixed  to  the  floor,  with  a  very  low  back. 
The  apparatus  and  specimens  necessary  in  the  illustration  of  natural  science,  are  ar 
ranged  in  the  several  rooms  appropriated  to  their  use.  The  electrical  apparatus,  in 
particular,  is  very  fine.  The  minerals,  and  geological  specimens  are  already  numer 
ous,  and  are  rapidly  accumulating,  through  the  exertions  of  the  teachers  and  their  pu 
pils.  The  chemical  laboratory  is"  well  supplied.  The  library  contains  200  to  300  vol 
umes,  very  judiciously  selected. 

Every  facility  might  be  afforded  for  the  comfort,  and  convenience,  and  progress  of  a 
much  larger  number  than  have  ever  yet  attended.  It  does  not  seem  to  be  generally 
known  that  there  is  a  school  of  this  kind  existing  in  New  England,  sustaining  the  high 
character  which  might  justly  be  challenged  by  this  institution. 

The  higher  department  is  under  the  immediate  care  of  Rev.  S.  R.  Hall.  He  is  as 
sisted  in  this  department  by  Mr.  F.  A.  Barton,  and  in  the  preparatory  department  by 
Mr.  L.  Tenney,  both  of  whom  appear  to  be  well  qualified  for  their  task. 

School  books  of  a  good  character  are  selected,  and  the  most  approved  methods  of  in 
struction  adopted.  But,  while  books,  and  apparatus,  and  hard  study,  are  deemed  indis 
pensable  to  thorough  and  efficient  progress,  much  is  accomplished  by  familiar,  con 
versational  lectures,  giving  the  student  ample  opportunity  for  asking  questions,  sug 
gesting  doubts,  &c.  No  attempts  are  made  to  hurry  through  a  science,  lor  the  sake  of 
having  gone  through  it ;  but  constant,  and  as  it  appears  to  me,  successful  efforts  are  made 
to  teach  every  thing  to  which  the  pupil's  attention  is  called  thoroughly. 

In  both  departments  of  the  school,  there  is  nothing  of  that  routine  of  mere  memory 
work  which  is  so  often  witnessed  in  our  schools.  Those  methods  are  pursued,  gen 
erally  speaking,  in  every  exercise,  which  give  employment  to  the  whole  intellect,  and 
not  to  certain  favored  faculties  merely,  while  the  rest  are  suffered  to  lie  neglected.  If 
any  faculty  has  not  been  properly  developed,  in  the  early  years  of  instruction,  a  course 
is  here  pursued  which  is  most  happily  adapted  to  awaken  and  excite  its  slumbering 
energies,  and  bring  it  into  habits  of  cheerful,  healthy,  vigorous  action. 

The  spelling  lessons  are  usually  short.  Few,  if  any,  words  are  studied  according 
to  the  arbitrary  arrangement  of  most  dictionaries  and  spelling  books.  Soaietimes  the 
teacher  dictates  a  series  of  words,  which  the  pupils  write  on  their  slates  ;  at  others, 
they  are  requested  to  select  all  the  words  of  a  certain  class  which  they  can  recollect, 
and  write  them  down,  thus  forming  their  own  spelling  lessons.  By  classes  of  words 
is  meant  all  which  belong  to  a  certain  occupation,  ait,  tribe  of  animals,  &c.  Thus,  at 
one  time,  their  spelling  lesson  will  consist  of  the  names  of  all  the  birds  of  prey  they 
can  think  of;  at  another,  of  all  the  implements  used  in  husbandry,  or  in  some  mechan 
ical  occupation.  The  examination  of  these  lessons  by  the  instructor,  is  often  accom 
panied  by  much  useful  and  familiar  conversation  on  various  topics,  not  excluding  moral 
and  religious  subjects.  Many  other  methods  of  teaching  spelling  are  adopted. 

I  was  never  before  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  prevailing  deficiencies  in  teaching 
reading,  as  while  witnessing  the  performances  of  these  pupils.  I  was  so  much  ashamed 
of  my  own  neglect  of  distinctness,  and  propriety  of  enunciation,  that  I  resolved  at  the 
moment  never  to  read  or  speak  before  others  again,  till  I  had  subjected  myself  to  a 
thorough  drilling  on  these  points. 

Arithmetic  was  also  taught  in  a  very  judicious  manner,  in  both  the  higher  and  lower 
departments.  Great  attention  was  paid  to  the  difficult  subject  of  carrying.  Three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  of  close  attention  is  given  to  penmanship  once  in  two  days. 

In  both  departments  of  the  institution,  every  branch  is  pursued,  as  far  as  possible, 
independently  of  every  other.  By  this  is  meant  that  every  study  has  its  appropriate 
hour  and  space,  and  w  hen  that  hour  arrives,  it  is  exclusively  attended  to.  In  the  higher 
department,  the  exercises  for  every  day  of  the  week  are  written  down  plainly  and  mi 
nutely,  and  a  monitor  rings  a  bell  at  the  arrival  of  the  time  for  every  new  exercise. 
So  exact  is  the  order,  and  so  accustomed  to  it  have  the  students  become,  that,  so  far  as 


440  SAMUEL  READ  HALL. 

discipline  is  concerned,  it  matters  little  whether  the  teachers  are  present  or  absent, 
provided  the  monitor  is  at  his  post,  and  performs  his  duty. 

The  higher  branches  of  the  mathematics,  geography,  grammar,  history,  composition, 
drawing,  philosophy  in  its  various  divisions,  chemistry,  political  economy ;  indeed, 
every  thing  to  which  the  attention  of  the  pupils  is  called,  is  pursued,  so  far  as  I  could 
ascertain,  in  the  same  rational  and  thorough  manner,  as  spelling,  reading,  and  arithme 
tic.  Not  only  is  every  thing  rendered  intelligible,  but  interesting;  and  the  thinking 
powers  of  the  pupil  are  called  into  useful  activity.  During  my  visit  a  course  of  chem 
ical  lectures  was  commenced  by  an  assistant,  which  promised  to  be  highly  practical 
and  useful.  Music  is  taught  in  the  seminary,  and  a  hymn  is  also  sometimes  sung  in 
connection  with  the  religious  exercises. 

But  what  rendered  this  seminary  most  deeply  interesting  to  me,  was  the  conviction, 
which  I  was  unable  to  resist,  that  all  its  methods,  and  plans,  and  processes,  were  emi 
nently  adapted  to  the  development  and  formation  of  character.  As  a  place  of  instruc 
tion,  it  justly  ranks  high  ;  and  I  do  not  believe  it  has  been  too  highly  appreciated.  But, 
as  a  place  o'f  EDUCATION,  it  has  still  higher  claims.  Knowledge  of  the  best  kind  is 
successfully  inculcated  by  the  best  means ;  but  the  capacity  and  disposition  to  make  a 
good  use  of  knowledge,  is  regarded  as  of  still  more  importance. 

In  the  first  place,  the  maxim  that  a  sound  mind  requires  a  sound  body  is  not  forgot 
ten.  The  location  of  the  seminary  is  peculiarly  happy.  The  building  is  kept  thoroughly 
ventilated,  and  a  due  regard  is  paid  to  temperature.  Exercise  receives  a  measure  of 
that  attention  which  its  superlative  importance  demands.  The  importance  of  early 
hours  is  inculcated.  Indeed,  every  thing  which  favors  the  health  is  remembered  by  the 
teachers,  and,  so  far  as  circumstances  may  permit,  controlled  and  directed. 

But  the  intellectual  and  moral  habits  of  the  pupils  are  also  wisely  regarded.  Noth 
ing  struck  me  more  than  the  cheerful  love  of  order  which  seemed  to  prevail.  It  was 
not  the  order  of  a  prisoner  in  the  dungeon,  but  of  the  healthy,  happy  laborer.  On  the 
book  containing  the  rules  for  each  day,  was  written,  in  conspicuous  characters,  "ORDER 
is  HEAVEN'S  FIRST  LAW;"  but  it  was  written  in  characters  scarcely  less  legible  in 
their  words  and  actions.  In  securing  such  order,  I  noticed  several  things  which  ap 
peared  to  have  no  small  influence. 

Habits  of  punctuality. — When  the  hour  arrives  for  opening  the  school,  or  for  any  ex 
ercise  whatever,  it  is  attended  to.  The  teacher  does  not  wait  a  few  minutes  beyond 
the  time  for  tardy  pupils — he  is  on  the  spot  himself,  and  the  work  commences.  In  fact, 
he  is  often  ready  a  few  minutes  before  the  time.  The  pupils  know  it,  and  they  are 
convinced  the  teacher  is  in  earnest.  This  makes  them  so. 

Nothing  is  hurried. — This  is,  in  part,  an  effect  of  the  former  habit.  If  "  time  is  taken 
by  the  forelock,"  there  is  less  need  of  hurrying.  There  will  be  time  for  every  thing — 
and  time  to  do  it  well. 

Every  thing  has  its  place. — There  is  no  time  lost  by  looking  for  things  which  have  be 
come  misplaced.  This  is  economical  and  favorable  to  good  order. 

The  teacher  observes  order  himself. — Every  word,  every  step,  every  performance — I 
had  almost  said  every  look  of  the  teachers — inculcate  order  and  system.  And  the  pow 
erful  influence  of  example  is  loo  well  known  to  need  any  encomiums. 

I  know  not  w  hat  other  means  of  discipline  may  have  been  used  in  the  seminary  for 
merly  ;  but  am  persuaded  that  those  which  have  just  been  mentioned,  have  a  very  large 
share  of  influence,  at  present,  in  maintaining  it.  The  habit  and  love  of  order  and  dis 
cipline  secure  order  and  discipline.  So  it  is  with  motives  to  progress.  The  habit  and 
love  of  acquiring  knowledge,  and  of  making  improvement,  appear  to  insure  that  knowl 
edge  and  improvement,  without  the  aid  of  emulation,  which  appears  to  be  discarded. 
I  know  of  no  school  for  boys,  where  a  better  English  education  can  be  obtained. 

Were  it  not  in  vain,  I  could  wish  that  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  New  England 
might  all  spend  a  few  days  in  this  seminary.  If  a  knowledge  of  its  actual  condition 
should  lead  to  nothing  more  effective,  it  might  induce  many  to  send  their  sons  there 
for  a  few  years,  to  have  the  unspeakable  pleasure  of  seeing  them  molded  into  teachers 
of  high-minded  purposes,  and  holy,  self-denying  character.  May  we  not  hope  that  a 
knowledge  of  what  is  effected  at  Andover  will  lead  to  the  establishment  of  .similar 
schools  throughout  New  England — to  be  fountains  of  intelligence,  and  virtue,  and  piety  ? 

LECTURES  ON  SCHOOL-KEEPING,  by  Samuel  R.  Hall,  Boston,  1829,  p.  135. 

CONTENTS.  Lecture  I.  Indifference  to  the  importance,  character,  and  usefulness  of  com 
mon  schools;  its  origin  and  influence.  II.  Obstacles  to  the  usefulness  of  common  Mboolt  III. 
Requisite  qualifications  of  teachers.  IV  Nature  of  the  teacher's  employment.  Responsi 
bility  of  the  teacher.  Importance  of  realizing  and  understanding  it.  V.  Gatataf  the  confi 
dence  of  the  school.  Means  of  gaining  it.  The  instructor  should  t>«-  willing  to  spend  all  of  his 
time  when  it  can  be  rendered  beneficial  to  the  school.  VI.  Government  of  a  school.  Pre 
requisites.  Manner  of  treatiM"  scholars.  Uniformity  in  government.  Firniue>p.  VII.  Gov 
ernment,  continufd.  Partiality.  Regard  to  the  future  as  well  as  the  present  welfare  of  the 
scholars.  Mode  of  intercourse  between  teacher  and  scholars,  and  between  scholars.  Punish 
ments.  Rewards.  \  III  General  management  of  a  school.  Direction  of  studies.  IX.  Mode 
of  it;, riling.  Manner  of  illustrating  subjects.  Spelling.  Reading.  X.  Arithmetic.  Geog 
raphy.  Kii-li.-h  (j  ram  mar.  Writing.  History.  XI.  Composition.  General  subjects,  not 
particularly  studied.  Importance  of  improving  opportunities  when  (Jeep  impressions  are 
made  on  the  minds  of  the  school.  XII.  Means  of  exciting  the  attention  of  scholars.  Such  as 
are  to  be  avoided.  Such  as  are  safely  used.  XIII.  To  female  instructors. 


EXTKACT  FROM  AN  ADDRESS 

BY   EX-OOVERNOR    GEORGE    S.   BOUTWELL, 

AT  THE  DEDICATION  OF  THE  STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL  AT  SALEM, 

August  19M,  1854. 


THE  house  jrou  have  erected  is  not  so  much  dedicated  to  the  School  as  to 
the  public;  the  institution  here  set  up  is  not  so  much  for  the  benefit  of  thb 
young  men  and  women  who  may  become  pupils,  as  for  the  benefit  of  the  public 
which  they  represent.  The  appeal  is,  therefore,  to  the  public  to  furnish  such 
pupils,  in  number  and  character,  that  the  institution  may  soon  successfully  enter 
upon  the  work  for  which  it  is  properly  designed.  But  the  character  arid  value 
of  this  school  depend  on  the  quality  of  its  teachers  more  than  on  all  things  else. 
They  should  be  thoroughly  instructed,  not  only  in  the  branches  taught,  but  in 
the  art  of  teaching  them.  The  teacher  ought  to  have  attained  much  that  the 
pupil  is  yet  to  learn ;  if  he  has  not,  he  can  not  utter  words  of  encouragement, 
nor  estimate  the  chances  of  success.  It  is  not  enough  to  know  what  is  con 
tained  in  the  text-book ;  the  pupil  should  know  that  at  least ;  the  teacher 
should  know  a  great  deal  more.  A  person  is  not  qualified  for  the  office  of 
teacher  when  he  has  mastered  the  contents  of  a  book ;  and  has,  in  fact,  no  right 
to  instruct  others  until  he  has  mastered  the  subject."  Here  then  seems  to  be 
the  gist  of  the  whole  matter.  We  in  Maine  have  at  length  an  opportunity  to 
do  something  which  may  be  made  of  great  benefit  to  the  public  schools  of  the 
State,  and,  through  them,  to  the  cause  of  general  good  learning.  This  is  to  be 
done  through  the  instrumentality  of  an  institution — the  Normal  School.  Very 
largely  is  this  trust  committed  to  the  hands  of  the  educational  men  of  the  pres 
ent  day  among  us.  Future  generations  will  hold  us  responsible  for  a  right  dis 
charge  of  our  duties.  Let  us  not  prove  recreant  to  our  sacred  trust. 

When  that  great  educator,  who  has  left  a  bright  and  ineffaceable  record  upon 
the  annals  of  the  present  age,  heard  of  his  election  as  master  of  the  School  at 
Kugby,  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Hawkins,  whose  recommendation,  in  which  he  ex 
pressed  his  belief  that  Arnold  would  revolutionize  the  system  of  public  instruc 
tion  in  Europe— had  done  most  towards  securing  his  appointment,  in.  the 
following  touching  words: 

"1  need  not  tell  you  how  unexpected  this  result  [my  election]  has  been  to 
me,  and  I  hope  I  need  not  say  also  what  a  solemn  and  overwhelming  responsi 
bility  is  imposed  upon  me.  I  would  hope  to  have  the  prayers  of  my  friends, 
together  with  my  own,  for  a  supply  of  that  true  wisdom  which  is  required  lor 
such  a  business."  The  position  of  a  Normal  School  teacher  is  one  of  "  solemn 
and  overwhelming  responsibility,"  and  the  person  occupying  it  needs  a  wisdom 
that  comes  through  communion  with  the  Divine  One.  This  institution,  like  the 
noble,  the  lamented  Arnold,  is  nothing  less  than  revolutionary  in  its  relationship 
to  the  Common  Schools.  It  will  fail  to  accomplish  its  mission,  or  it  will  regen 
erate.  It  will  give  life,  or  it  itself  will  die. 

It  remains  to  be  said — if  indeed  that  be  necessarj* — that  I  believe  with  Do 
Gasparin  and  De  Tocqueville,  that  in  the  universality  of  common  instruction  is 
the  true  superiority  of  Americans:  that  I  believe,  with  the  leading  patriots  of 
my  country,  that  republican  institutions  can  not  exist  for  any  length  of  time 
except  they  be  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  an  intelligent,  liberty-loving  people; 
that  to  retain  the  true  superiority  of  which  we,  as  a  nation,  are  acknowledged 
to  be  possessed,  we  must  retain  and  improve  its  cause — the  public  school  sys 
tem  ;  that  I  believe,  with  the  lamented  Mann  and  Page,  the  living  Barnard,  the 
patriotic  and  eloquent  Everett,  and  a  host  of  other  eminent  educators,  that  the 
Normal  School  is  a  necessity — a  sine  qua  non — for  the  perfection  of  a  system  of 
instruction  for  the  people ;  and  lastly,  and  consequently,  that  I  would  give  to 


STATE   NORMAL  SCI1OOL  AT  SALEM. 

the  Normal  School  its  right  to  rank  among  the  institutions  which,  as  an  harmo 
nious  whole,  work  for  the  preservation  of  American  Freedom. 

Let  it  not  be  thought,  my  friends,  that  I  am  an  enthusiast  in  respect  to  the 
position  which  the  Normal  and  the  public  school  hold  among  the  institutions  of 
our  nation,  and  the  consequent  glory  of  the  profession  of  the  popular  educator. 
Here  is  a  cause  in  which,  surrounded  by  the  safeguards  of  the  Christian  religion, 
one  need  not  fear  to  be  enthusiastic. 

TOE   OFFICE   OF   THE   PUBLIC   SCHOOL  TEACHER 

Before  the  public  school  teachers  of  this  nation,  there  is  opening  a  future, 
which,  like  every  other  prospective  view  in  the  time  in  which  we  live,  is  at  once 
solemn  and  cheering.  It  is  cheering  to  believe  that  we  may  live  to  see  the  day 
when  education  for  the  people  shall  be  as  much  prized  in  the  South  as  in  the 
North  ;  that  from  the  "one  true  seed  of  freedom  "  which  the  Pilgrims  of  1G20 
were  commissioned  of  the  Almighty  to  plant  upon  these  then  benighted  shores, 
has  grown  the  Tree  of  Life,  whose  leaves  are  lor  the  healing  of  the  nation.  But 
it  is  solemn — 0,  is  it  not  intensely  solemn  ! — to  reflect  that  u)  on  our  shoulders 
is  to  be  thrown  so  4rreat  responsibility ;  that  not  alone  upon  the  field  of  battle, 
but  more  certainly  upon  the  field  of  moral  thought,  are  to  be  laid  the  firm 
foundations  of  a  regenerated  republican  liberty !  American  citizenship  is,  and 
is  to  be  a  grander,  loftier  thing  in  the  future  than  it  has  been  in  the  past.  Our 
baptism  of  blood  is  to  do  its  work  of  purification ;  and,  thus,  looking  with  the 
vision  of  a  poet  of  the  motherland,  we  discerned  through  the  gloomy  days  of 
battle,  through  the  fierce  conflict  of  our  nation's  heroic  period,  the  dawn-break 
ing  of  a  more  comprehensive,  more  brilliant  social  illumination.  We  said  with 
Tennyson : 

"  Tho1  many  a  light  shall  darken,  and  many  shall  weep 
For  those  that  are  crushed  in  the  clash  of  jarring  claims, 
Yet  God's  just  wrath  shall  be  wreaked  on  a  giant  liar; 
And  many  a  darkness  into  the  light  shall  leap, 
And  shine  in  the  sudden  making  of  splendid  names, 
And  noble  thought  be  freer  under  the  sun, 
And  the  heart  of  a  people  beat  with  one  desire." 
******** 

"  Let  it  flame  or  fade,  and  the  war  roll  down  like  a  wind, 
We  have  proved  we  have  hearts  in  a  cause;  we  are  noble  still, 
And  all  have  awaked,  as  it  seems,  to  the  better  mind ; 
It  is  better  to  fight  for  the  good  than  to  rail  at  the  ill." 

The  end  of  our  conflict  was  not,  when,  with  ringing  of  bells,  with  roar  of 
deep-mouthed  cannon,  with  bonfires  and  illuminations,  with  notes  of  praise,  and 
with  voice  of  silver-toned  oratory,  we  celebrated  the  restoration  of  peace  and 
union.  For  then  came  the  necessity  for  the  highest  qualities  of  statesmanship, 
in  State  legislatures  and  a  national  Congress.  And  again,  the  end  is  not  when 
the  counsels  of  the  statesman,  under  the  blessings  of  Divine  Providence,  shall 
have  settled  the  most  complicated  problems  growing  out  of  the  present  disjointed 
condition  of  our  affairs.  After  all  that,  in  the  dim  distant  future,  when  you  and 
I  shall  have  acted  well  or  ill  our  part  upon  the  stage  of  life  and  shall  sleep  with 
the  fathers  of  the  Republic;  the  generations  that  will  come  will  find  a  work  high 
and  glorious,  made  doubly  sacred  by  the  blood  and  prayers  and  tears  of  their 
predecessors. 

The  American  citizen  is  to  act  a  pnrt  in  all  this,  and  the  American  citizen  is 
to  be  taught  in  youth  in  the  public  school.  Will  any  one  say  that  the  position 
of  a  common  school  teacher  is  one  of  small  account — will  any  gainsay  his  claim 
to  a  preparation  for  his  professional  duties  at  the  cxjicns'-  of  that  people  to 
whom  his  service  is  so  important?  Tun-  it  is.  is  some  one  htt  MM,  ''Let  a 
people  treat  with  scorn  the  defenders  of  its  liberties,  and  invest  them  with  the 
symbols  of  degradation,  and  it  will  soon  have  none  to  defend  them."  There  is 
no  more  sure  defense  to  republican  liberty  than  the  public  school ;  there  is  no 
truer  personal  defender  of  American  institutions  than  the  schoolmaster.  Treat 
him  with  scorn,  invest  him  with  the  symbols  of  degradation  if  you  dare.  God 
may  give  him  grace  still  to  labor  on,  but  it  will  be  with  a  saddened  heart — a 
life  without  an  earthly  ambition. 


THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION: 

ITS   NATURE   AND   OBJECTS. 
BY  JOHN   D.    PHILBRIOK, 

Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction  in  Boston,  Man. 


LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN  : — The  position  in  which  I  find  myself 
placed  by  the  choice  of  the  association — a  position  unsought,  un- 
desired,  and  undeserved — bestowed  no  doubt,  as  a  compliment  to 
the  section  of  the  country,  and  particularly  to  the  state  in  which  I 
live  and  labor,  and  to  be  relinquished  gladly  at  the  close  of  this  ses 
sion, — imposes  upon  me  the  duty  of  inaugurating  these  proceedings 
by  an  introductory  address. 

And  perhaps  I  may  be  expected  to  attempt,  by  an  elaborate  per 
formance,  either  in  the  exhaustive  treatment  of  some  single  topic, 
or  in  the  presentation  of  a  comprehensive  summary  of  our  proper 
aims  and  purpose,  to  strike  the  key-note  of  the  occasion,  and  thus 
in  a  manner  to  give  direction  and  tone  to  the  discussions  which 
may  follow.  But  this  is  not  what  I  propose.  Indeed,  since  this 
meeting  was  determined  upon,  at  a  late  day,  it  has  not  been  in  my 
power  to  make  adequate  preparation  for  such  a  task.  But  what, 
under  other  circumstances,  and  in  quieter  and  happier  times  might 
have  been  expected,  and  might  have  been  attempted,  is  scarcely 
required  now.  It  is  not  from  my  lips,  it  could  not  be  from  any  hu 
man  lips,  that  that  strain  of  eloquence,  of  learning,  or  of  wisdom, 
is  to  flow,  most  competent  to  shape  and  inspire  the  debates  and 
deliberations  of  this  body  of  American  educators,  at  this  time  and 
in  this  place. 

The  great  and  unparalleled  conjuncture  of  our  public  affairs,  the 
unprecedented  perils  in  which  our  national  existence  has  been,  and 
is  now  involved,  the  sharp  and  tragic  realities  of  our  mighty  strug 
gle,  demanding  the  work  of  all  hands,  the  thoughts  of  all  heads, 
and  the  devotion  of  all  hearts,  the  sacrifice  of  so  much  of  the  best 
blood  of  the  nation,  the  necessity  to  provide  for  the  security  of 
peace,  whan  peace  shall  come ;  these  things  are  what  must  and  will 
fire  our  hearts,  and  bias  our  thoughts,  and  direct  our  aims,  and 

*  Introductory  Address  before  the  National  Teachers'  Association  in  Chicago,  August  4th, 
1863 ;  by  the  President,  John  D.  Philbrick. 


450  OBJECTS  OF  THE   NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 

influence  our  speech  and  action.  Till  peace  and  union,  and  the  set 
tled  state  of  order  are  restored,  loyal  hearts  can  not  but  everywhere, 
and  at  all  times,  vibrate  in  unison  with  the  key-note  uttered  by  the 
mouths  of  the  cannon  which  spoke  on  the  memorable  12th  of  April, 
1861,  from  the  casemates  of  Sumter,  in  defence  of  free  government, 
of  Christian  civilization,  of  the  rights  of  man.  That  utterance 
meant  duty, — duty  to  God,  duty  to  our  country, — duty  to  one 
another.  And  our  topics,  treatment,  thoughts,  views,  must  be 
moulded  and  tinged  by  the  circumstances  and  exigences  of  this  per 
ilous  crisis,  this  mighty  conflict,  and  as  patriotic  educators,  we  must 
necessarily  keep  uppermost  in  our  minds,  at  such  a  time  as  this,  the 
relations  of  education  to  the  national  life,  to  political  morality,  and 
the  stability  of  free  institutions  of  government. 

It  seems  proper,  however  that  I  should  present,  briefly,  some 
facts  and  suggestions  respecting  the  nature  and  objects  of  our  asso 
ciation,  and  the  sphere  of  its  operations  and  influence. 

It  is  now  six  years  since  this  association  was  organized.  It  origi 
nated  in  a  call  signed  and  issued  by  the  Presidents  of  ten  State  As 
sociations,  inviting  teachers  throughout  the  United  States  to  assem 
ble  in  Philadelphia  on  the  26th  of  August,  1857,  for  the  purpose  of 
organizing  a  National  Teachers'  Association.  It  being  the  express 
design  of  the  movement  to  institute  a  society  which  should  be 
strictly  professional  in  its  character,  the  invitation  was  not  extended 
to  the  friends  of  education  generally,  but  was  limited  to  persons  act 
ually  engaged  in  the  business  of  education.  The  language  employed 
is  this ;  "  We  cordially  extend  this  invitation  to  all  practical  teach 
ers  in  the  North,  the  South,  the  East,  and  the  West,  who  are  will 
ing  to  unite  in  a  general  effort  to  promote  the  educational  welfare 
of  our  country,  by  concentrating  the  wisdom  and  power  of  numer 
ous  minds,  and  by  distributing  among  all  the  accumulated  experi 
ences  of  all  who  are  ready  to  devote  their  energies,  and  to  contri 
bute  of  their  means  to  advance  the  dignity,  respectability  and  use 
fulness  of  their  calling ;  and  who,  in  fine,  believe  that  the  time  has 
come  when  the  teachers  of  the  nation  should  gather  into  one  great 
educational  brotherhood." 

In  pursuance  of  this  call  a  meeting  was  held  at  the  designated 
time  and  place.  It  was  well  attended,  and  was  composed  of  gen 
tlemen  from  the  different  sections  of  the  country,  many  of  whom 
had  won -a  title  to  confidence  by  their  eminent  services  in  the  cause 
of  education.  These  gentlemen  proceeded  to  organize  the  associa 
tion  by  the  adoption  of  a  constitution  and  the  election  of  officers. 
On  each  of  the  three  succeeding  years,  a  large  and  successful  annual 


OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION.  45! 

meeting  was  held — in  1858,  in  Cincinnati,  fifteen  states  being  repre 
sented  ;  in  1859,  in  Washington,  representatives  from  seventeen 
states  being  present ;  and  in  1860,  in  Buffalo,  with  a  representation 
from  nineteen  different  states,  and  from  the  Federal  District.  The 
proceedings  have  been  published  each  year  in  pamphlet  form,  inclu 
ding  a  part  of  the  lectures  and  papers,  which  have  been  character 
ized  by  a  good  degree  of  ability,  learning,  and  sound  practical  wis 
dom.  Thus,  in  brief,  stands  our  record  up  to  1860. 

No  annual  meeting  was  held  in  1861  or  in  1862,  the  all  absorb 
ing  exigences  of  the  war,  and  the  impossibility  of  securing  a  repre 
sentation  from  the  seceded  states  seeming  to  justify  and  render 
necessary  a  temporary  suspension  of  our  operations  as  a  society. 

But  the  period  of  inaction  has  passed,  and  we  have  reason  to  con 
gratulate  ourselves  that  it  has  not  resulted  in  decay  and  dissolution. 
As  individuals,  and  as  an  Association,  we  still  live,  and  after  the 
lapse  of  three  years  we  meet  again  in  largely  increased  numbers, 
and  with  renewed  strength,  here  in  this  great  Metropolis  of  the 
Northwest,  the  most  marvelous  creation  and  monument  of  American 
enterprise,  as  well  as  the  most  striking  illustration  of  the  rapid 
growth  and  expansion  of  American  civilization. 

And  it  would  be  an  unpardonable  neglect  of  a  manifest  duty,  if 
we  should  not  feel  and  acknowledge,  with  profound  gratitude,  the 
favor  of  Heaven  in  thus  permitting  us  to  assemble  here  and  now,  in 
such  force,  undisturbed,  and  in  protecting  to  such  an  extent  the  inter 
ests  of  education  which  we  represent,  notwithstanding  the  calami 
ties  which  have  befallen  the  nation. 

The  distinctive  peculiarity  of  our  organizatian  is  found  in  the  fact 
that  it  is  both  national  and  professional.  It  is  the  only  educational 
body  of  a  truly  national  character  now  existing  in  America.  Our 
educational  associations  for  the  past  thirty  years  have  been  for  the 
most  part  limited  to  a  state  or  section  of  the  country ;  and  though 
their  usefulness  is  beyond  question,  their  tendency  is  no  doubt  to 
strengthen  local  prejudices,  and  to  perpetuate  local  ideas  and  systems. 
The  American  Institute  of  Instruction,  though  a  highly  useful  and 
honorable  society,  whose  influence  has  been,  and  is  now  widely  felt, 
is  mainly  supported  from  the  School  Fund  of  Massachusetts,  and 
during  the  thirty-three  years  of  its  existence,  it  has  held  but  one 
meeting  beyond  the  limits  of  the  New  England  States — most  of  its 
working  members  having  their  residence  in  a  few  of  the  Atlantic 
States,  and  therefore  it  can  not  justly  claim  to  be  what  its  name 
implies,  and  what  it  was  intended  to  be — truly  national  in  its  scope 
and  operations. 


452  OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 

But  the  national  character  of  this  body  is  evident  in  its  design 
and  origin,  in  the  place  of  its  meetings,  in  the  generality  of  its  re 
presentation,  and  indeed  in  its  whole  history.  In  fact  the  proof  is 
before  me.  I  see  within  these  walls  delegates  from  nearly  every  loyal 
state,  not  only  in  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  but  beyond  the 
Alleghanies,  and  on  the  Atlantic  shore,  gathered  here  at  a  point 
nearly  a  thousand  miles  from  the  place  of  the  first  meeting. 

The  constitution  provides  that  membership  shall  be  restricted  to 
those  who  are  actually  engaged  in  education  as  a  business,  either  as 
teacher,  superintendent,  or  editor,  thus  securing  to  it  a  strictly  pro 
fessional  character.  This  provision,  it  is  believed,  will  tend  to  insure 
both  its  efficiency  and  its  perpetuity.  The  American  Association 
for  the  Advancement  of  Education,  which  was  instituted  at  Phila 
delphia  in  1849,  and  which  flourished  six  or  seven  years,  exerting 
an  extended  and  beneficial  influence,  was  indeed  national  in  its  char 
acter,  but  it  was  composed  of  friends  of  education  as  well  as  teach 
ers,  and  not  of  persons  wholly  devoted  to  the  business  of  education. 
And  hence  it  lacked  the  essential  elements  of  vitality,  and  is  now 
known  only  as  a  thing  in  the  past.  It  was  destitute  of  that  prin 
ciple  of  life  which  is  found  in  that  strong  cohesion,  that  enduring 
cement,  that  bond  of  union,  that  close  affection,  which  holds  to 
gether  those  of  the  same  guild  and  craft  and  profession,  with  ties 
which,  though  light  as  air,  are  strong  as  links  of  steel. 

Its  design  and  scope  are  no  less  comprehensive  than  the  plan  of 
its  organization.  These  as  set  forth  in  the  preamble  to  the  consti 
tution,  are  "  to  elevate  the  character  and  to  advance  the  interests  of 
the  profession  of  teaching,  and  to  promote  the  cause  of  popular 
education  in  the  United  States."  Thus  while  designed  to  admit  to 
membership  and  participation  in  its  proceedings,  the  representa 
tives  of  all  grades  and  descriptions  of  educational  institutions, 
whether  public  or  private,  from  the  humblest  infant  school  to  the 
highest  university,  the  sphere  of  its  operations  is  co-extensive  with 
our  country's  territory  and  its  educational  interests,  aspiring  to  em 
brace  the  whole  subject  of  instruction  and  training  for  the  rising 
generation  in  all  quarters  of  the  Union.  With  a  title  so  compre 
hensive,  and  with  objects  so  vast  and  important,  we  have  ventured 
to  present  ourselves  before  the  community  and  the  world.  It  be 
comes  us  therefore,  to  consider  well  the  responsibility  of  the  posi 
tion  we  have  assumed.  We  ought  to  endeavor  to  raise  our  minds 
to  the  height  of  the  great  argument.  We  ought  to  take  large 
views.  We  ought  to  be  catholic  in  spirit,  knowing  no  sects  in  re 
ligion,  no  parties  in  politics.  We  should  come  to  this  work  and  to 


OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION.  453 

tnesc  deliberations,  bringing  with  us  no  local  prejudices,  no  state 
jealousies,  no  sectional  bigotry.  We  should  come  with  ideas  and 
sentiments  circumscribed  within  no  geographical  limits,  hemmed  in 
by  no  mountain  ranges  or  river  courses,  by  lines  of  latitude  or  lon 
gitude,  but  with  a  broad  comprehension  of  intellect  and  feeling, 
with  minds  and  hearts  large  enough  to  embrace  all  the  interests  we 
profess  to  serve — remembering  ever  that  we  have  "  one  hope,  one 
lot,  one  life,  one  glory." 

The  first  great  object  to  which  our  efforts  are  pledged,  is  to  ele 
vate  the  character  and  advance  the  interests  of  the  profession  of 
teaching. 

Many  fine  things  have  been  said  concerning  the  mission  of  teach 
ers,  but  after  all  that  has  been  said,  in  all  ages,  upon  the  subject, 
more  than  justice  has  not  been,  and  never  can  be  done  to  the  theme. 
We  may  say  with  Channing,  that  there  is  no  office  higher  than  that 
of  a  teacher  of  youth ;  for  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so  precious  as 
the  mind,  soul,  character  of  the  child ;  or,  in  the  language  of  Everett, 
that  the  office  of  the  teacher,  in  forming  the  minds  and  hearts  of 
the  young,  and  training  up  those  who  are  to  take  our  places  in  life, 
is  all  important ;  or  in  the  words  of  President  Humphrey,  that  the 
schoolmaster  literally  speaks,  writes,  teaches,  paints  for  eternity ; 
his  pupils  are  immortal  beings,  whose  minds  are  as  clay  to  the  seal 
under  his  hand.  But  such  generalities,  however  just  and  true,  fail 
to  convey  to  our  minds  an  adequate  or  vivid  conception,  either  of 
the  actual  or  possible  results  of  the  teacher's  work. 

Let  us  look  at  this  subject  a  little  more  in  detail.  Let  me  con 
duct  you,  in  imagination,  to  a  modest  edifice  erected  for  the  purpose 
of  primary  education,  in  a  retired  street  in  one  of  our  Atlantic  cities. 
Let  us  enter  and  observe  the  occupants  and  their  doings.  Here  are 
fifty  or  sixty  children,  of  both  sexes,  in  the  first  year  of  their  school 
ing,  being  from  five  to  six  years  of  age.  The  presiding  genius  who 
receives  us  so  courteously,  welcoming  us  in  tones  of  peculiar  sweet 
ness,  is  a  lady  whose  natural  endowments  and  opportunities  of  edu 
cation  have  combined  to  form  the  true  teacher.  The  cleanly,  tidy, 
well  behaved  children,  seem  to  be  under  some  magic  influence. 
Some  of  them  are  from  homes  of  poverty  and  ignorance,  and  yet 
they  appear  like  a  company  of  brothers  and  sisters.  Their  happy, 
cheerful  faces  suggest  no  unpleasant  restraint,  and  yet  perfect  order 
reigns.  Here  you  seem  to  see  for  once  the  solution  of  the  eternal 
problem  of  uniting  liberty  with  law,  freedom  with  government. 
Every  one  is  intent  upon  work  as  though  it  were  no  task,  but  an 
agreeable  pastime.  The  lessons  proceed.  How  the  mind  of  the 


454          OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 

teacher  seems  to  enter  into  the  minds  of  the  pupils  !  With  what  a 
combination  of  patience,  gentleness,  sympathy  and  energy  every 
process  is  conducted.  How  the  minds  and  hearts  of  these  children 
open  to  receive  instruction  as  the  flower  opens  to  light  and  rain ! 
Weariness  is  prevented  by  frequent  and  regular  alternations  of  work, 
play,  and  physical  exercise.  The  air  is  kept  pure  and  the  tempera 
ture  equable.  Here  we  sea  these  scores  of  children,  without  the 
loss  of  a  day,  are  at  once  set  forward  on  the  true  path  of  moral  and 
intellectual  life ;  conscience  is  awakened,  and  its  dictates  practically 
obeyed ;  manners  are  formed  ;  right  habits  are  acquired ;  curiosity 
is  aroused  and  gratified  by  imparting  rational  instruction.  They 
are  taught  what  they  need  first  to  know,  for  comprehending  more 
easily  what  is  to  follow.  Nothing  is  learned  which  they  will  need 
to  unlearn  ;  their  first  operations  being  so  guided,  that  without  alter 
ing  any  of  their  habits,  they  can  more  easily  produce  what  is  excel 
lent  in  future.  They  are  beginning  to  learn  to  love  the  good,  the 
beautiful,  the  true.  Their  teacher  is  to  them  the  model  and  pattern 
of  all  excellence.  Here  we  feel  sure  that  the  twig  is  bent  in  the 
right  direction ;  and  yet  this  is  no  fancy  sketch. 

Let  us  now  imagine  that  the  nation's  whole  bright  tribe  of  child 
hood,  were  thus  instructed  and  trained  up  in  the  way  they  should 
go — so  educated  not  only  in  the  first  year  of  their  schooling,  but 
that  in  each  successive  grade  of  their  course  they  should  be  carried 
forward  with  a  corresponding  perfection  of  skill,  till  they  go  out 
into  the  world,  whether  graduating  from  the  district  school,  from 
the  high  school,  or  from  the  university, — let  your  imagination  con 
ceive  what  would  be  the  results,  what  moral  rectitude,  what  mental 
ability  and  accomplishment  would  be  achieved,  and  you  have  some 
notion  of  the  mission  of  teachers  considered  in  a  national  point  of 
view. 

Now  just  in  proportion  as  we  elevate  the  character  and  promote 
the  interests  of  the  profession  of  teaching,  we  shall  approach  the 
realization  of  this  ideal  of  the  teacher's  mission. 

And  if  we  look  back  over  the  educational  history  of  America  for 
the  space  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  we  shall  find  much  to  encour 
age  and  stimulate  our  efforts  in  this  high  endeavor.  Within  that 
period  a  great  and  salutary  change  has  taken  place  respecting  the 
vocation  of  teaching.  Its  advancement  in  respectability,  influence 
and  efficiency,  has  been  marked  and  rapid.  The  number  of  able 
and  learned  persons  of  both  sexes  who  are  devoted  to  it,  has  been 
increased  many  fold.  The  rate  of  compensation  has  been  increased 
probably  fifty  per  cent.  Its  labors  have  been  rendered  more  agree- 


OBJECTS  OF  TOE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION.  455 

able  and  attractive  by  the  classification  and  grading  of  schools,  and 
by  the  vast  improvements  which  have  been  made  in  school  archi 
tecture.  At  the  dedication  of  one  of  the  large  grammar  schools  in 
Boston,  a  year  or  two  ago,  a  member  of  the  Corporation  of  Harvard 
University,  a  wise  man  who  weighs  his  words,  said  in  presence  of 
the  late  president  of  that  university,  and  an  ex-president,  that  the 
head  of  such  a  school  was  the  president  of  a  college  to  all  intents  and 
purposes.  The  establishment  of  normal  schools,  now  found  in  most 
of  the  educating  states,  may  be  regarded  as  a  substantial  recogni 
tion  of  teaching  as  a  distinct  and  liberal  profession.  Well  did  Mr. 
Mann  say  at  the  dedication  of  the  first  normal  school  house  ever 
erected  in  America,  "  I  consider  this  event  as  marking  an  era  in  the 
progress  of  education  on  this  continent  and  throughout  the  world." 

Already  the  highest  literature  of  the  day  is  beginning  to  class 
teaching  with  the  learned  professions,  an  admission  of  no  little  sig 
nificance.  In  consequence  of  the  great  increase  of  desirable  situa 
tions  in  teaching  and  superintending  schools,  some  of  the  best  grad 
nates  of  our  colleges  are  beginning  to  choose  this  profession  in 
preference  to  those  of  law,  medicine,  and  divinity,  as  affording  an 
inviting  career  for  a  young  man  of  generous  ambition,  who  wishes 
to  make  the  most  of  himself  as  a  man,  and  at  the  same  time  to  em 
ploy  his  talents  for  the  improvement  of  the  lot  of  his  fellow  crea 
tures.  In  view  of  such  facts  as  these,  we  can  not  but  feel  encour 
aged  to  pursue  the  objects  of  this  association  with  zeal  and  ani 
mation. 

One  of  the  principle  means  of  elevating  the  character  of  teachers 
is  to  increase  the  demand  for  accomplished  teachers.  And  this  de 
mand  will  be  increased  as  the  progress  of  education  is  advanced, 
and  its  value  is  appreciated.  After  all  that  can  be  done  for  the  im 
provement  of  education,  it  is  substantially  what  the  teachers  make 
it.  The  stream  can  not  rise  higher  than  its  fountain.  If  asked  to 
describe  in  the  fewest  words,  the  best  system  of  public  instruction, 
I  should  say  it  is  that  which  secures  and  retains  the  services  of  the 
best  teachers.  To  accomplish  this,  three  things  are  requisite  : 

1.  The  situation  of  the  teacher  must  be  made  desirable,  by  ade 
quate  compensation,  by  good  treatment,  by  suitable  accommoda 
tions,  and  by  limiting  the  labors  to  the  requirements  of  health  and 
self-improvement. 

2.  The  mode  of  selecting  and  appointing  teachers  should  be  such 
as  to  encourage  the  competition  of  the  best  qualified  candidates, 
and  to  give  merit  the  preference  over  every  other  consideration. 

3.  The  proper  means  should  be  employed  to  secure  continued 


456  OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 

•elf-improvement  on  the  part  of  teachers;  and  with  this  view  they 
•hould,  as  far  as  practicable,  be  commended,  promoted,  and  rewarded 
in  proportion  to  their  advancement,  and  degraded  or  removed  for 
delinquency  and  neglect  of  duty. 

As  in  this  country  the  control  of  educational  affairs  rests  ulti 
mately  with  the  people,  the  accomplishment  of  these  objects  requires 
that  the  popular  mind  should  be  enlightened  upon  the  subject. 
Here  then  is  the  great  paramount  work  which,  as  members  of  this 
association,  we  should  keep  in  view — to  diffuse  useful  information 
on  the  subject  of  education.  The  nature  and  objects  of  education, 
its  value  and  importance  to  the  individual,  to  the  community,  and 
the  state ;  the  kind  and  degree  to  be  desired ;  the  means  and  meth 
ods  of  securing  it, — these  are  the  great  leading  topics  in  regard  to 
which  the  people  need  to  be  informed.  Every  teacher  owes  it  to 
his  profession,  as  well  as  to  the  cause  of  education,  to  improve 
every  available  opportunity  to  promote  this  object,  by  his  pen  and 
voice,  and  by  aiding  in  the  circulation  of  educational  documents. 

Public  opinion  should  be  especially  educated  to  a  liberal,  though 
judicious  provision,  for  the  support  of  institutions  of  learning.  It 
is  a  capital  error  to  suppose  that  a  high  standard  can  be  maintained 
at  a  cheap  rate.  I  have  seen,  not  without  sentiments  of  disappro 
bation,  a  competition  in  certain  cities  and  towns  to  see  which  can 
show  the  smallest  expenditupe  per  scholar.  I  should  rather  take 
pride  in  showing  how  large  a  sum  is  expended,  provided  that  the 
outlay  can  be  proved  to  be  judiciously  employed.  Educational  re 
ports,  both  local  and  state,  constitute  the  principal  channel  through 
which  this  information  is  to  be  diffused.  Who  can  estimate  the 
vast  influence  of  the  twelve  Reports  of  Horace  Mann,  as  Secretary 
of  the  Massachusetts  Board  of  Education?  His  fifth  Report  has 
probably  done  more  than  all  other  publications  within  the  last 
twenty-five  years  to  convince  capitalists  of  the  value  of  elementary 
instruction  as  a  means  of  increasing  the  value  of  labor. 

Notwithstanding  the  advance  which  has  been  made  in  the  rate  of 
wages  paid  to  teachers,  inadequate  compensation  is  by  far  too  gene 
ral.  I  measure  the  standard  of  education  in  any  city  or  town  by 
the  rate  of  salaries  paid  the  teachers.  There  may  be  exceptions  in 
particular  schools.  Still,  in  my  judgment,  this  is  the  best  general 
test.  As  a  rule,  talent  is  sure  to  go  where  it  is  best  appreciated 
and  rewarded.  On  this  point  school  officers  and  the  people  are  not 
sufficiently  enlightened.  We  should  endeavor  to  make  every  body 
understand  that  cheap  education  must  generally  be  poor  education, 
and  that  good  education  must  cost  money. 


OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION.  457 

But  what  belongs  to  teachers  themselves  to  do  more  than  any 
thing  else,  in  furtherance  of  the  objects  of  our  Association,  is  the 
study  of  the  science  and  art  of  education — that  department  of 
knowledge  which  is  strictly  professional.  The  want  of  enterprise  in 
this  respect,  I  think,  may  justly  be  charged  upon  teachers  as  a  body. 
Nor  is  this  deficiency  peculiar  to  any  particular  class  or  grade  of 
teachers.  It  applies  to  professors  in  colleges  as  well  as  to  teachers 
of  common  schools,  to  those  who  are  engaged  in  the  business  of 
education  as  a  permanent  profession,  and  to  those  who  make  it  a 
temporary  sojourn  while  on  the  way  to  another  profession.  Of 
the  one  hundred  thousand  teachers  in  the  country,  how  few  are 
thoroughly  versed  in  the  educational  literature  of  the  day  ?  But  a 
small  part  of  this  number  ever  see  even  an  educational  periodical. 
A  still  smaller  part  have  read  any  books  on  the  subject  of  educa 
tion.  And  how  very  few  even  of  those  who  are  receiving  the  higher 
salaries  can  boast  of  a  respectable  educational  library.  Scarcely 
any  foreign  books  relating  to  the  subject  are  imported,  and  the  num 
ber  of  volumes  annually  published  and  sold  in  this  country  is,  I  had 
almost  said,  ridiculously  small,  considering  the  number  of  persons 
who  ought  to  be  readers  of  such  works.  If  proof  of  this  unwel 
come  truth  was  needed  it  would  be  sufficient  to  refer  to  a  single 
publication — I  mean  Barnard's  Journal  of  Education — which  has 
now  reached  its  thirteenth  volume,  a  library  in  itself.  Costing  little, 
considering  the  amount  of  matter  it  contains,  embracing  exhaustive 
treatises  on  almost  all  departments  of  education ;  yet,  I  am  told 
that  the  number  of  copies  sold  has  not  been  sufficient  to  pay  for  the 
stereotype  plates.  This  fact  is  not  complimentary  to  American 
teachers  as  a  body.  Of  the  numerous  teachers  whom  I  have  known, 
how  few  can  I  name  who  have  made  education  a  study,  who  have 
read  to  any  considerable  extent  on  its  philosophy,  its  methods,  its 
institutions,  its  biography,  and  its  literature.  Here,  then,  in  my 
judgment,  is  found,  to-day,  the  most  practical  and  efficacious  means 
of  a  speedy  elevation  of  the  character  of  our  profession.  Of  course 
a  broad  and  solid  basis  of  general  education  is  an  indispensable  re 
quisite  to  form  the  accomplished  teacher,  but  let  every  teacher,  ac 
cording  to  his  ability,  procure  and  read  the  best  books  and  periodi 
cals  on  education,  and  incalculable  benefits  would  be  the  results.  It 
would  work  a  revolution  in  the  profession,  and  at  the  same  time, 
prove  an  efficient  means  of  promoting  education. 

Professional  study  consists  mainly  in  learning  from  the  experience 
of  others.  This  is  the  means  and  condition  of  all  progress.  With 
out  it  civilization  itself  would  be  impossible.  I  know  of  nothing 


458  OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 

more  unwise  in  teachers  than  that  disposition  which  too  many  have 
to  rely  solely  on  their  own  personal  experience  for  information  re 
specting  their  vocation.  Such  teachers  rarely  attain  to  even  medi 
ocrity  in  their  profession,  and  never  to  eminent  success.  The  most 
successful  are  those  who  learn  from  others  as  well  as  by  their  own 
experiments. 

I  would  commend  the  wise  words  on  this  point  taken  from  "  The 
Schoolmaster,"  the  earliest,  and  one  of  the  best  works  in  the  lan 
guage  on  education,  by  Roger  Ascham,  who  was  himself  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  wisdom  of  the  ancient  philosophy : 

"  Surely  long  experience  doth  profit  much,  but  most,  and  almost 
only  to  him  that  is  diligently  before  instructed  with  precepts  of  well 
doing.  For  good  precepts  of  learning  be  the  eyes  of  the  mind,  to 
look  wisely  before  a  man,  which  way  to  go  right,  and  which  not. 
Learning  (the  recorded  experience  of  others,)  teacheth  more  in  one 
year  than  experience  in  twenty ;  and  learning  teacheth  safely,  when 
experience  maketh  more  miserable  than  wise." 

I  have  spoken  of  only  one  of  the  objects  of  our  Association, — that 
of  elevating  the  character  and  advancing  the  interests  of  the  pro 
fession  of  teaching.  The  other  great  object  of  our  efforts,  as  set 
forth  in  the  preamble  to  our  constitution,  is  "  to  promote  the  cause 
of  popular  education  in  the  United  States."  Time  will  not  permit 
me  to  enlarge  upon  this  province  of  our  labors.  But  of  this  we 
may  be  assured ;  whatever  tends  to  elevate  and  improve  the  char 
acter  and  qualifications  of  teachers,  contributes  also  to  the  progress 
of  education ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  whatever  tends  to  advance 
the  cause  of  education,  must,  at  the  same  time  promote  the  inter 
ests,  and  improve  the  character  of  teachers.  The  two  objects, 
therefore,  for  which  we  profess  to  work,  are  essentially  one  and  the 
same. 

In  conclusion  1  present  the  following  summary  of  the  recent 
movements  and  improvements  in  education,  and  of  what,  in  my 
judgment,  ought  to  be  done  to  promote  the  cause. 

I.     Recent  movements  and  improvements. 

1.  Primary  schools  have  been  much  improved. 

2.  Progress  has  been  made  in  reference  to  truancy  and  compul 
sory  education. 

3.  Much  has   been    done   to   introduce   and   to  perfect  Object 
Teaching. 

4.  Physical  education  has  been  greatly  advanced. 

5.  Much   has  been  done  to  perfect  courses  of  study  for  high, 
grammar,  primary,  and  district  schools. 


OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION.  459 

6.  A  beginning  has  been  made  in  establishing  Technological  and 
Industrial   Institutes.     The  establishment  of  the  Massachusetts  In 
stitute  of  Technology,  in  Boston,  is  an  important  movement  for  the 
application  of  science  to  the  practical  arts. 

7.  Public  attention  has  been   strongly  turned  to  the  subject  of 
military  education,  and  the  necessity  of  competitive  examinations 
for  admission  to  the  National  Military  and  Naval  Academies  is  be 
ginning  to  be  agitated. 

8.  The   thorough  grading  of  schools  wherever  it  is  practicable, 
has  now  become  the  settled  policy  of  all  enlightened  educators. 

9.  Great  progress  has  been  made  in  establishing  free  public  high 
schools. 

10.  Public  libraries  in   cities,  towns,  and  school  districts,  have 
been  greatly  multiplied. 

11.  Measures  to  be  encouraged  and  advocated  by  the  association 
for  the  advancement  of  popular  education. 

1.  The  appointment  of  a  professor  of  education  in  every  import 
ant  college  and  university. 

2.  The  appointment  of  superintendents  of  public  instruction  m 
all  states,  counties,  cities,  and  important  towns. 

3.  One  or  more  normal  schools  should  be  established  and  main 
tained  at  public  expense  in  each  state. 

4.  The  teachers  of  each  state  should  maintain  and  conduct  an 
educational  periodical. 

5.  Teaching  should  be  legally  recognized  as  a  profession. 

6.  The  condition  of  teachers  should  be  ameliorated  by  the  pay 
ment  of  better  salaries,  and  the  requirement  of  less  work. 

7.  Educational  associations  should  be  maintained  in  every  state, 
county,  and  town. 

8.  Teachers  should  devote  more  attention  to  the  study  of  the 
science  and  art  of  education. 

9.  A  national  bureau  of  education  should  be  established  at  Wash 
ington. 

10.  A  system  of   free  public   schools,  comprising  the  primary, 
grammar,  and  higher  grades,  should  be  established,  and  supported 
by  taxation  in  every  state  where  such  a  system  does  not  exist. 

11.  All  schools  should  be  graded  where  grading  is  practicable. 

12.  Educational  men  should  be  appointed  to  fill  educational  offi 
ces  of  every  description. 

13.  Moral  and  religious  training  ought  to  be  made  much  more 
prominent  than  it  is. 

14.  The  whole  rising  generation  should  be  instructed  in  the  prin 
ciples  of  our  republican  government. 


.|(JO  OBJECTS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATION. 

These  are  some  of  the  topics  which  I  would  suggest  for  the  future 
consideration  of  this  association.     And  now 

FELLOW  TEACHERS  : — Let  us  rejoice  that  we  live  in  a  day,  and  at 
a  period  of  unexampled  opportunities  for  usefulness  and  honorable 
effort.  Let  us  congratulate  each  other  that  we  have  the  blessed 
privilege  of  assembling  in  this  place,  from  regions  widely  remote,  to 
take  counsel  for  the  promotion  of  the  moral  and  intellectual  culture 
of  the  whole  people — the  highest  earthly  interest  of  society.  While 
our  sons  and  brothers,  and  friends,  are  on  the  field  of  battle,  with 
arms  in  their  hands,  fighting  and  pouring  out  their  life-blood  for  the 
preservation  of  our  national  integrity  and  Union,  for  the  defence  of 
free  institutions  and  Christian  civilization,  let  us  strive  to  act  well 
our  part  by  endeavoring  to  make  our  country  worthy  of  such  sacri 
fices  and  such  heroes.  Let  us  remember  that  peace  hath  her  victo 
ries,  and  that  it  belongs  to  us  to  act  a  strenuous,  patriotic,  and  he 
roic  part  for  the  welfare  of  our  country,  to  go  forth  conquering,  and 
to  conquer  in  the  domain  of  ignorance,  achieving  those  peaceful 
triumphs  which  will  insure  our  future  prosperity  and  success,  and 
enable  us  worthily  to  fulfill  our  destiny 


BAMARD'S  EDUCATIONAL  PUBLICATIONS. 


The  following  Treatises  hare  all  appeared  as  separate]  articles  In  Barnard's  American  Journal  of  Education.    Any  Book  or  Pamphlet  on  th«  List  »ill  b« 
seat  by  mail,  postage  paid,  on  receiving  the  price  in  postage  stamps  or  money  order.      On  orders  of  $20  a  discouat  of  20  per  cent,  will  be  made. 

Addrtu  a.  B.,  Ptot  Ojfic«  Sox  U,  fiartford.Conn.  January,  1876. 


ABC  Books  and  Primers 25 

A  B  C-Shooters,  and  School  Life  in  15th  Century.  25 

ABBENRODB,  Teaching  History  and  Geography..  25 

Academies  of  New  England 25 

ACQUAVIVA,  Ratio  et.  In-titutio  Studiorum 25 

ADAMS,  J.  Q.,  Normal  Schools,  Schools  of  Silesia  25 

Adult  and  Supplementary  Schools 25 

AGABSIZ,  L.,  Educational  Views 25 

AGRICOLA,  R.,  School  Reform  in  the  Netherlands  25 

AKROYD,  E.,  Improving  a  Factory  Population 25 

ALBERT,  PRINCE.  Science  in  Education 25 

ALCOTT,  A.  B,  Schools  as  they  were 50 

ALCOTT,  WILUAM  A.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Slate  and  Black-board  Exorcises 25 

ANDREWS,  S.  J.,  The  Jesuits  and  their  Scheols..  25 

ANDREWS,  LORIN  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 5" 

Anglo-Saxon  Language  in  Study  of  English 25 

ANHALT,  System  of  Public  Instruction 25 

ANSELM,  and  other  Teachers  of  the  12th  Century.  25 
Aphorisms  on  Prim  iplcs  and  Methods  of  Educ"n2.50 

Arabic  and  Mohamnvd-m  Schools 25 

ARISTOTLE,  Educational  Views 25 

Arithmetic,  Methods  of  T*  aching 25 

ARNOLD,  MATTHEW,  Public  Schools  in  Holland.  25 

Secondary  Schools  in  Prussia 50 

ARNOLD,  THOMAS  K.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Arts  and  Science,  Schools  of 5.50 

ASCHAM  ROGER,  Memoir,  and  the  Schoolmaster. .  50 

AMIBTJRTON,  LORD,  Teaching  Common  Things..  25 

Austria,  Public  Instruct  on — Primary  &  Secondary  50 

Military  Schools  and  Education 25 

Technical  School* 25 

BACUE,  A.  D.,  National  University 25 

BACON,  FRANC  is  LORD,  Memoir  and  Influence. ..  25 

E~say  on  Education  and  Studi*  B .  25 

BACON,  LEONARD,  Memoir  of  Hillhouse 25 

Baden,  System  of  Public  Instruction 25 

Technical  Schools 25 

BAILEY,  EBENEZEU,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

BARNARD,  D.  D.,  Right  of  Taxation  for  Schools.  25 

BARNARD,  F.  A.  P.,  College  Improvements 25 

Elective  Studies  in  College  Course 25 

BARNARD,  J.  G.,  The  Problem  of  the  Gyroscope.  25 

BARROW,  ISAAC,  Studies  and  Conduct 25 

BASEDOW,  Memoir,  and  the  Philantbropinum....  50 

BATEMAN,  N.,  Educational  Labois  and  Portrait..  50 

BATES.  S.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Liberal  Education 25 

BATES,  W.  G.,  Training  of  Teachers 25 

Bavaria,  System  of  Public  Instruction 25 

Technical  Schools 25 

BEECHER,  CATHERINE  E.,  Educational  Views.. .  25 

Belgium,  Syetein  of  Pnblic  Instruction 25 

Technical  and  Special  Schools 25 

BELT,,  ANDREW,  Memoir  and  Educational  Views  50 

BENEDICT,  ST.,  and  the  Benedictines 25 

BENEKE,  F.  E.,  Pedagogical  Views 25 

Berlin,  Educational  Institutions 25 

Bible  and  Religion  In  Pnblic  School* 25 

BINGHAM,  CALEB,  Educational  Work  25 

BISHOP,  NATMAN,  Educational  Woik  a?;d  Portrait  50 

BLOCKMAN,  Pe-nalozzi's  Labors 25 

BOCCACCIO,  and  Educational  Relorm,  in  Italy 25 

BODLEIOH,  SIR  THOMAS,  Studies  and  Conduct 25 

BOOTH,  J.,  Popular  Education  in  England 25 

Boston,  Educational  Institutions 50 

BOTTA,  V.,  Public  Instruction  in  Sardinia 25 

BOTJTWELL,  GEORGE,  Educational  Work 50 

BOWEN.  F.,  Memoir  of  Edmund  D\vi»ht 50 

BRAINERD,  T.,  Home  and  School  Training  In  1718  25 

BRINSLT,  J.,  Ludua  Literarius,  1627  25 

BROCKETT,  L.  P.,  Idiots  aud  their  Training 25 

BROOKS,  CUAS..  Educational  Vork  and  Portrait. .  50 

BROUGHAM,  HENRY  LOKD.  Educational  Views...  25 

Brunswick,  S> stem  of  Public  Instruction 25 

BTJCKHAM,  M.  H..  English  Language 25 

BUCKINGHAM,  J.  T.,  Schools  as  they  were  in  1800  25 

B  CKLEY,  J.  W.,  Teachers'  Associations 25 

BURGEES,  GEORGE,  Religion  in  Public  Schools. . .  25 

BURROWES,  T.  U.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

History  of  Normal  Schools  in  Pennsylvania.. .  25 

BURTON,  W.,  District  School  a"  it  was 25 

BUSHNELL,  H.,  Early  Training,Unconscious  Influ.  25 


BARNARD,  HENRY,  Educational  Activity 8.60 

Address  to  the  People  of  Connecticut,  1838 25 

Common  Schools  in  Connecticut,  lf-38-42..'. ..  1.00 

Public  Schools  of  Rhode  Island,  1843-49 3.50 

Higher  Education  in  Wisconsin  and  Maryland    50 

U.  S.  Commissioner  of  Education  1867-8 5.50 

Special  Report  on  District  of  Columbia 5.50 

Special  Report  on  Technical  Education 5  50 

Special  Report  on  Nat ional  System- 5.50 

Conn.  Common  School  Journal,  183^-42  4v.  each  1.25 
Educational  Tracts,  Number  I. -XII.,  eacn....  25 

Journal  of  R.  I.  Institute  1845-49  3v 1.25 

Documents  on  Popular  Education,  I.-IV.,  each  1.00 
American  Jour,  of  Education,  lb>55-73. 24v.,  each  5. 00 

do.         International  Series,  1874-6,  Iv 5  00 

General  Index,  with  the  Volume  Indexes. . .  2.50 

Education  in  Europe  in  1854 1.50 

National  Systems  of  Education,  10v.,  each 5  50 

Elementary  and  Secondary  Schools,  4v.,  each..  5.50 

I.  The  German  States 5.50 

II.  Continental  European  Stuict 5.50 

III.  Great  Britain 5.50 

IV.  American  States 5.50 

Superior  Instruction— Edition  of  1875,  2v 7.00 

Part  I.— Historical  Development 2.50 

1.  The  University— Authorities 25 

2.  Do.    in  Greece,  Alexandria,  and  Rome    50 
8.  Christian  Schools— Cathedral  and  Abbey..    50 

4.  Teaching  Orders  of  the  Catholic  Church..    50 

5.  Mediaeval  Universities  (Savigny) 50 

6.  Universities— Past  and  Present  (Dollinger.)    50 

7.  Universities  and  P<htechnic  SchoJs 25 

8.  The  College  in  Universities ..    25 

9   American  Colh  ge  &  Enrojican  University. .     50 
Part  II.— Superior  Instruction  as  Organized  .5.50 

1.  Germany  and  Switzerland 3.50 

2.  France.  Italy 1.00 

3.  Belgium,  Holland,  Denmark,  Nor'y,  Swe'n    50 

4.  Russia,  Turkey,  Greece,  Spain,  Portugal. .    50 

5.  England,  Scotland,  and  In  laud 1.00 

6.  American  States 1.00 

Ptolessionaland  Special  Schools,  5v.,  each 5.50 

1.  Science  and  National  Industries 5.50 

Ditto    Great  Britain 2  50 

Ditto    United  States 8.00 

2.  Military  Schools  and  Education 5.50 

3.  Normal  Schools  and  Professional  Training  5.50 

4.  Female  Schools  and  Education 5.50 

5.  Reformatory  and  Preventive  Agencies 5.50 

/Supplementary  Schools  and  Agencies 5.50 

Educational  Biography,  6 v.,  each 3.50 

American  Teachers,  with  21  portraits 3.50 

do.  do.     second  »-eri<  s,  30  portraits  3. 50 

Benefactors  of  American  Education  20  port's  3.50 
German  Educational  Reformers  and  Teachers  3.50 
English,  French,  and  other  eminent  teachers3.50 

Swiss  Teachers  and  Educators 3.50 

Tribute  to  Gallaudet,  and  Deaf  Mute  Instruction  2.50 
Ezekiel  Cheever.  &  the  Free  Schools  of  N.  Eng.  1.00 

Armsm«  ar,— a  Memorial  of  Samuel  Colt 5.50 

School  Codes— State,  Municipal,  Institutional 3.50 
School  Architecture,  with  500  illustrations. ....  5.50 

Practical  Illustrations 1.00 

Object  Teaching,  Oral  and  other  Meth.  of  Inst.  3.60 
American  Pedagogy,  Principles  and  Methods..  3.50 
English  Pedasoey.  "  ..350 

do.       Secojxi  Series.  ..3.50 

German  Pi dagogy,  ..3.50 

French  Pedagogy,  . .  3.50 

Swiss  Pedagogy  "        ..360 

Educational  Aphorisms  and  Suggestions 8.50 

Smdies  and  Conduct 8.50 

Educational  Associations— National,  and  State 8.50 

Connecticut  Educational  Institutions 3.50 

Connecticut  School  Fund— Historical 25 

Common  Schools,  as  they  were  before  1800, —  1.00 

do.  *in  1870 1.00 

Compulsory  School  Attendance 1.00 

Constitutional  Provision  respecting  Schools  25 
School  Status  of  Freedmen  &  Colored  Children  1.00 

Providence  Schools,  Documentary  History 5o 

Hartford  Public  High  School,  Esrly  History  . .  .<•  25 
Teachers'  Institutes,  Contributions  to  History.  25 


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BROOKS,  EDWARD,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

CADT,  I.  F.,  Method  of  (Magical  Instruction 25 

CALDEKWOUD,  H.,  Teaching.  Its  Ends  and  Means    2% 

CA.LDWELL,  <'..  E  mraiiuu  in  North  Carolina 25 

Cam  md  u  Univer-ity.    The  Undergraduate 85 

CAMP,  D.  N  ,  Memoir  and  Por  rait .>  60 

CALKINS,  N.  A.,  Object  Te.-«chiug 25 

CAULYLE,  THOMAS,  University  Studies 25 

Letter  on  Rtadiug. 25 

CARTER,  JAMKS  G.,  Memoir  and  Portrait. 50 

Kssay  ou  Teachers'  Seminaries  in  1824 25 

Catechism  of  Methods  of  Teaching 50 

Catholic  Church,  Schools  and  Teaching  Orders..  1.00 

CECIL,  SIR  WILLIAM,  Advice  to  his  Sou 25 

CHANNINO,  W.,  Teachers  &  their  Education  (1832>    25 

Hints  on  Self  Culture 25 

CHATHAM,  LORD,  Letters  to  his  Neph-w 25 

CHEEVER,  EZEKIEL,  &  Free  Schools  of  N.  England    5ii 

CHESTBRFIELD,  LORD.  Studies  and  Conduct 25 

CHOATK,  RUFUB,  Books  and  Reading 25 

Christian  Schools,  Earliest  Established 25 

Cities,  Systems  of  Public  Schools 2.50 

CLARKB.  H.  Q  ,  PrincipL-s  &  M  >desof  Ventilation    -2.") 

CLARK  T.  M.,  Education  for  the  Times 25 

COQOESHALL,  W.  J.,  Oh'o  System  of  Pub.  Schools    25 

COLBUUN,  DANA  P.,  Memoir  arid  Portrait 50 

Coi  BURN,  W.,  Educational  Work,  and  Portrait..     50 

COLB.  D.,  Method  of  Cl  issical  Education 25 

COLET,  J.,  EducMtionaj  Views  and  St.  Tanl  ^cViol  50 
COLMAN,  HENRY.  Agricultural  Schools  in  France  25 
COMBNIOS,  A.,  Educational  Labors  and  Pi  iuciples  50 

Colleges,  Origin  and  Use  in  Universities 25 

College  Code  of  Honor 25 

Competitive  Examinations  for  Public  Service..     25 

Conduct— Suggestions  bv  Eminent  Mon !...  350 

Connecticut,  Edncational  Institutions..., 3.50 

Conversation.— Suggestion s  by  Bacon  and  others    25 

Conversational  Method 25 

Corporal  Punishment — Barbarism  of  Discipline..  25 
COUTTS,  Miss  BUKDETT.  Prize  Scheme  for  Girls.  25 
COWDERT,  M.  F.,  Moral  Training  in  Pub.  S<'h»ols  2r> 
COWLEY,  A.,  Plan  of  Philosophical  College,  1062  •->."> 
COWPER,WM.,  The  Tirocinium.  Review  of  Schools  25 

CRABBE,  QKO.,  Schoo's  of  the  Borough 25 

Crime  and  Education  25 

CURRIE.  JAMES,  Methods  of  Early  Education 25 

DANA,  J.  D.,  Sci-nce  and  Scientific  Schools 25 

DAWSON,  J.  W.,  Nut.  Hist,  in  its  Educat.  Aspects    25 

DAY.  HBNRY  N.,  English  Composition 25 

Deaf  Mate  Institutions  and  Instruction 25 

DKLASALLB,  A.,  Memoir  &  the  Christian  Brothers    50 

D'itira  irk,  Public  Instruction  25 

DsQuiNCY,  S'udies  and  Conduct 2~> 

Leiters  on  tue  Art  of  Conversation 25 

DsMs  rz,  M.,  Colonies  for  Juvenile  Offe-'ders 25 

DICKINSON,  J.  W.,  Philos.  &  Methods  of  Teaching    25 

DIESTBRWEO,  Memoir... 25 

Catechism  of  Methods  of  Teaching 50 

School  Discipline  and  Plans  of  Instruction 25 

Intuitional  and  Speaking  Exercises 25 

DINTER,  G.  F.,  Memoir 25 

DISRAELI.  B.,  Studies  and  Condnct 25 

DIXON,  W.  HBPWORTH.—  Swiss  Schools  in  1870...  25 
DOANK,  GEORGE  W.,  The  State  and  Education...  25 

DOLLINGKR,  Universities,  Past  and  Present 25 

DOMINIC,  St.,  and  the  Dominicans 25 

DONALDSON,  JAMBS,  Edu.  in  Prussia  and  England    25 

Drawing,  Methods  of  Teaching 50 

DUAI,  A.,  German  Schools  in  the  United  States.     25 

DUCPETIAUX,  Agricultural  Reform  Schools 25 

DUFFIELD,  D.  B.,  Education  a  State  Duty 25 

DUNN,  U.,  Me-hods  of  the  B  >rough-road  Schools.     2-"> 

J>URFBE,  JOB.  R.  I.  Idea  of  Government 25 

DURUY,  Secondary  Special  Schools  in  France 25 

1)    TANLOUP,  S  udiom  Women 25 

DWIGHT,  EDMUND,  Memoir  ami  Portrait 50 

DWKJIIT,  TIMOTHY,  Memoir 25 

Aca-lemy  at  Green  Farms 25 

Yale  College  in  1814 25 

Educational  Biographies,  with  Portraits  of  over 
100  Eminent  Teachers,  Edfhrors,  and  Ben 
efactors  of  Educators,  eaci 50 

Educational  Trans,  Numbers  I. -XII ,  each 25 

Edu.  Documents  for  Gen.  Circulation,  I.-IV.  each  1.00 

Ednration  and  the  State 25 

Education  Defined...  .     25 


EPWARDS.  RICHARD,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Normal  Schools  25 

KLY  .T,  SIR  TUOMAH.  Tne  Governour 25 

EMERSON,  GEO.  11.    Educat.  Labors,  with  Portrait    50 

Memoria  on  Normal  Schools,  1837 25 

M«>ral  E'lucat  on 25 

England,  Elementary  Schools  and  Methods 3.50 

Public  or  Endowed  Schools 25 

Navigation  Schools 25 

Universities  of  Oil ord  and  Cambridge 80 

Military  Schools 25 

Scientific  and  Technical  Schools 2.M) 

English  E-t'mate  of  Swi-s  Public  School* 25 

Public  Schools  of  the  United  S;ates 25 

English  Pedagogy,  First  Series 3.50 

Second  Series 3.50 

EKAMUS,  Memoir  and  Educational  Works 50 

Classical  Studies 25 

ERNEST  the  Pious,  Educational  Works 25 

European  Estimate  of  American  Schools 25 

EVBRSTT,  E  ,  Educational  Views,  and  Portrait...    51 

John  Lowell  and  the  Lowell  Lectures 25 

John  Harvard  and  his  Benefaction 25 

Uses  of  Asi  ronomy 25 

Address  on  Normal  Schools,  1839 25 

EVERETT,  W.,  The  Cambridge  System  of  Study.    25 

FAIRCHILU,  Coeducation  of  the  Sexes 25 

FELBIQKK,  J.  J.,  Educational  Labors  in  Austria..    2"> 
FELLENBERO.  Memoir  and  Principles  of  Education    25 

FELTON,  C.  C.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Oharacterist  C*  of  American  Colleges 25 

Female  Schools  and  Education     5.50 

FENBLON.  Memoir  and  Female  Education 25 

KICHTE,  J.  H.  VON,  Frobel's  Eductional  System.    50 
KLIEDNER,  Ins.  for  Deaconesses  at  Kaiser wi-rth    vs 

FORBES,  E.,  Educat  ional  Uses  of  Mnsrum- 25 

FOWLE,  W.  B,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

FOWLER.  W.  C.,  The  Clergy  and  Common  Schools    25 

France.  Syt-tem  of  Public  instruction 2.50 

The  Univers  ty  of  Pnris 25 

-The  Universiiy  of  France 25 

Technical  and  Military  Schools 8.M) 

Specia^  Secondary  Schools V5 

French  Teachers  and  Pedagogy 8..r> ' 

FRANCIS,  ST..  and  the  Franciscans 25 

FRANKE,  A.  H..  Educational  Views  and  Labors. .    25 

FRANKLIN.  B.   Maxims  of  Poor  Richard 25 

FREDERIC  THE  GREAT,  as  School  Reformer 25 

School  Codes  of  1764 25 

Free  Schools  of  New  England,  Historical  Data..    25 

French  Schools  and  Pedagogy 5.50 

FROEBEL,  The  Kindergarten  System 25 

FROUDB,  University  Studies 25 

FULLER,  THOMAS,  The  Good  Schoolmaster 25 

GALLATDET.  THOMAB  H..  Memoir  and  Portrait..    50 

Plan  fora  Teachers'  Seminary  in  1824 25 

GAMMKLL,  W.,  Memoir  of  Nicholas  Brown 25 

GARFIKLD.  JAMES  A..  Education  a  National  Duty    25 
GASTON,  WILLIAM,  Advice  to  College  Graduates.    25 

GKRARD-GROOTE,  and  the  Hu-ronvmians 25 

Germany,  National  System  and  Pedagogy,  5v.  ~\ 

Primary  and  Secondary  Schools 5  50 

Technical  and  Military  Sc.'-ools 8  50 

Universities.  Gymnasia.  &  Polytechnic  Schoo.--  8.60 
Educational  Reformers— Katicb,Comeuiue,  etc.  8.5D 

Modern  German  Pedagogy 8.50 

GESNER,  J.  M.,  Educational  Views 25 

GILMAN.  D.  C..  Scientific  schools 25 

GLADSTONE,  W.  E.,  Educational  Views 25 

GOKTHE.  Educa1  ional  Training  and^Views 25 

Cnlt  ivatiou  of  Reverence 25 

GOLDSMITH.  OLIVER,  E-say  on  Education 25 

GOODRICH,  S.  G  ,  Schools  as  they  were  in  1800. ..     25 
GOODRICH,  W.  II.,  Plea  for  Extended  Education.     25 

GOtiingen    University 25 

GOULD,  B.  A.,  The  American  University 25 

GRASER,  System  of  In-tructio- 25 

Greece,  Ancient,  Schools  and  KducattoH 25 

Greece,  Modern.  System  ol  Public  Instruction. . .    25 

Greek  LMiHUfrft,  SnSjcct  of  School  Study 25 

OHKKNE,  S.  S.,  Object  Teaching 25 

Educational  Duties  of  the  Hour 25 

GREGORY,  J.  M..  The  Problem  of  Education.         '2,'> 

ORISOOM,  JOHN,  Memoir  and  Portrait ?0 

GrizoT,  Ministry  of  Public  Instruction  in  France    50 
GULLIVER,  J.  P.,  Norwich  Free  Academy 25 


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HALE,  SIR  MATTHEW,  Studies  and  Conduct 25 

HALL,  S.  R.,  Educational  Labors  and  Portrait. . .  50 

HAM  ANN,  J.  G.,  Pedairogicil  Views 25 

HAMIL.  S.  M.,  School  Discipline  25 

HAMILTON,  J.,  and  the  Hamutouian  Method 25 

HAMILTON,  Sir  W.,  Mathematics 

The  College  in  the  University 25 

HAMMOND,  C.,  New  England  Academies 25 

Hanover,  System  of  Public  Schools 25 

HART,  J.  M.,  The  American  Student  at  GOttingen  25 

HART,  J.  S. ,  Memoir  and  Port  rait 50 

Characteristics  of  a  Normal  School 25 

Anglo-Saxonin  the  Study  of  English 25 

HARTLIB,  S.,  Plan  of  College  of  Husbandry  in  1651  25 

HAUY,  V.,  and  the  Instruction  of  the  Blind 25 

HAVEN,  JOSEPH,  Mental  Science  as  a  Study 25 

HA  WES,  JOEL,  Female  Education 25 

HEDGE,  N.,  Schools  as  th«y  were 25 

HEIKEL,  FELIX,  Public  Instruction  in  Finland..  25 

HELFENSTEIN.  J.,  Mediaeval  Universities 25 

HENRY,  J.,  Common  Schools 25 

HENRY,  JOSEPH,  Philosophy  of  Education 25 

HENTSCHELL,  E.,  Teacking  Singing 25 

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HERBERT,  J.  F.,  Pedagogical  Views 50 

HERDER,  Life  and  Educational  Views 25 

Hes?e-Cassel,  System  of  Public  Schools 25 

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HILL,  M.  D.,  Reformatory  Schools 25 

HILL,  T.,  True  Order  of  Studies 25 

BILLIARD,  G.  S.,  Boston  Public  Library 25 

HILLHOU^E,  J.  A.,  Literary  Culture  in  Republics.  50 

Hm'sandMe:ho:lsfor  the  Use  of  Teaching 25 

HODJINS,  J.  GEORGE*,  Education  in  Upper  Canada  25 

HOLBROOK,  J.,  Educational  Labors  and  Portrait.  50 

The  American  Lyceum 25 

H  illand,  System  of  Public  Instruction 25 

HOOD,  THOMAS,  The  Irish  Schoolmasters 25 

HOOLB,  C.,  The  Old  Art  of  Teaching,  J659 25 

HOPKINS,  M.,  Educational  Labors  and  Views 1.00 

HOWE,  S.  G.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Laura  Bridgman 25 

HUMBOLT,  WM.  VON,  Studies  for  Old  Age 50 

HUMPHREY,  HEMAN,  Normal  Schools 25 

Common  Schools  as  they  were 25 

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College  Prayers 25 

HUXLEY,  T.  II.,  Science  in  Schools 25 

IGNATIUS  LOYOLA,  and  the  Schools  of  the  Jesuits  25 

Illiteracy  in  the  United  States 25 

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Universities 25 

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Revival  of  Clas-icil  Learning 50 

Mediaeval  Universities 25 

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JACOBS,  F.,  Method  of  Teachiag  Lati  n 25 

JACOTOT,  L.,  Memoir  and  Method  of  Instruction.  25 

JAMESON,  Mr».,  Social  Occupations  ofWome-t...  25 

JARVIS,  E.,  Misdirected  Education  and  Inanity.  25 

JKROME,  ST..  Education  of  Daughters 25 

Jesuits,  Society  and  Schools  of  the 25 

JKWELL,  F.  S.,  Teaching  as  a  Profession 25 

JOHNSON,  SAMUKL,  Educational  View  s 2 

JOHNSON.  W.  R.,  Educational  Labors,  &  portrait  25 

JULIUS,  DR.,  Normal  Schools  in  Prussia  50 

KEE^AN,  P.  J.,  Organization  of  Irish  Schools 25 

KINDBRMANN.  School  Reform  in  Bohemia 25 

KINGSBURY,  JOHN,  Memoir  and  Portrait 25 

KNIGHT,  CHARLES,  EC  >nom<cal  Science 50 

KIRKPATRICK.  E.,  Education  in  Greece  &  Rome.  25 

KEY,  JOSEPH,  Prussian  Schools 50 

KRUSI,  Life  and  Educational  Labors 25 

LALOR,  J.,  Nature  and  Objects  of  Education.  ...  25 

LANCASTER,  Jos.,  Memoir  and  Monitorial  Schools  25 

LAWRENCE,  A.,  and  Lawrence  Scientific  School. .  25 

Latin  L-mginge,  Methods  of  Teaching 50 

LEIGH,  E.,  Illiteracy  in  the  Unit  d  States 25 

Liswis,  Dio,  The  New  Gymnastics 25 

LEWIS,  SAMUEL,  Memoir  and  Portrait ?0 

LEWIS,  T.,  Methods  oi  Teac  irg  G-e^k  and  Latin  25 

LINDSLEY,  PHILIP,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

LOCKE,  JOHN.  Thoughts  on  Education 1.00 


LONGSTREET,  Schoo's  as  they  were  in  Georgia. . .  25 

LOTHROP,  S.  K.,  W.  Lawrence  &  N.E.  Academies  25 

LOWE,  ROBERT,  University  Studies 25 

LOWBLL,  JOHN,  and  the  Lowell  Lectures 25 

LUTHBK.  MARTIN,  Memoir  and  Views  on  Educat.  50 

LYON,  MARY,  Principles  of  Mt.  Holyoke;Seminary  50 

LYTTON,  SIRE.  B.,  Studies  and  Conduct 25 

Money,  its  Acquisition  and  Uses 25 

LYCURGUS,  and  Spartan  Education 25 

LYELL,  SIR  CHARLES,  Physical  Science  in  Educat.  25 

MACAULAY,  LORD  T.  B.,  Educational  Views 25 

MANSFIELD,  E.  D.,  Military  Acad.  at  Wcs>  Point  25 

History  of  National  Land  Grants  to  Ohio 25 

MARCEL,  C.,  Conversational  Method  in  Language  50 

MARCH,  F.  A.,  Study  of  English  Language 25 

MARIA  THERESA,  Educational  Reforms '-5 

MARION,  GENERAL,  Free  Schools  for  Republics..  25 

MANN,  HORACE,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Lectures  and  Reports 5.50 

Teachers'  Motives 25 

Professional  Training  of  Teachers 25 

College  Code  of  Honor 25 

Fourth  of  July  Oration,  1842 25 

Manual  Labor  in  Education 25 

MASON,  LOWELL,  Memoir  and  Portrait BO 

MASON,  S.  W.,  Physical  Exercise  s  in  School 25 

MASSON,  D.,  College  and  Self- Education 25 

Milton's  Home,  School,  arid  College  Education  25 

MAY,  S.  J.,  Educational  Work,  with  Poitrait 60 

MAYHEW,  IRA,  Educational  Work  with  Portrait.  50 

McCRiE,  DR.,  Universities  of  Scotland 25 

MCELLIGOTT,  J.  N.,  Debating  in  School  Work. . .  25 

MEIEROTTO,  Method  of  Teaching  Latin 35 

MELANCTHON,  P.,  Memoir  and  Educational  Work  I  0 

Mettrey  Reform  School,  Rise  and  Progress 25 

MILL,  J.  S.,  University  Studies 25 

MILTON,  JOHN,  Tractate  on  Education 25 

Home,  School,  and  University  Training 25 

MOLINEUX,  E.  L.,  Military  Exercises  in  Schools.  25 

Monitorial  System  and  Method 25 

MONTAIGNE,  Educational  Views 25 

MONTESQUIEU,  Education  1  Views 25 

MORE,  SIR  THOMAS,  Educa  ional  Views... 25 

MORRISON,  T..  School  Management 50 

MULCABTER,  R.,  Positions  and  Elementaire 25 

MURRAY,  J.  N.,  English  Policy  in  Irish  Education  25 

Music,  Method  for  Common  Schools 25 

NBANDER,  M.,  Educal  ional  Views 25 

NEWMAN,  University  Education 25 

NIEBUHR,  Method  of  Philological  Study 25 

NIEMEYER,  Aphorisms  (other  German  Educators)  2.50 

NISSEN,H.,  Public  Schools  in  Norway 25 

NORTHEND,  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait, 50 

Normal  Schools  and  Teach.  S«m.,  Ed.  of  1854.  2.00 

Norwich  Free  Academy 25 

OBERLIN,  J.  F.,  Educational  Work 25 

Object  Teaching,  and  other  Methods 3.50 

Oral  Methods 50 

OLMSTEAD,  D.,  Memoir  and  Portrait BO 

Democratic  Tendencies  of  Science 25 

Timothy  Dwight— a  Model  Teacher 25 

OTERBERO,  B.,  Educational  Views 25 

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Oxford  University  in  1873-4 25 

PAGE,  D.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Pouring  In  and  Draw  ing  Out  Methods 25 

Paris,  The  Old  Un  versity 25 

Superior  Normal  School 25 

Polytechnic  Schools 50 

PARR",  SAMUEL,  Educational  ViewF 25 

PARTRIDGE,  A.,  Educational  Work  and  Portrait .  BO 

PATTISON,  Prussian  Normal  Schools 25 

PAYNE,  JOSEPH,  Science  and  Art  of  Education..  25 

PEABODY,  GEe>  GE,  Educational  Benefactions...  25 

PEIRCE,  B.  K.,  Reformatory  for  Girls 25 

PEIRCE,  CYRUS.  Memoir  and  Portrait F>0 

PESTALOZZI,  Memoir  and  Portrait 1.50 

Leonard  and  Gertrude 1.00 

Evening  Hour  of  a  Hermit 25 

PESTALOZZI,  and  Pestalozzianisra 3.50 

PESTALOZZI,  Fellenberg  and  Wehrli 25 

PETRARCH,  DANTE,  and  BOCCACIO 25 

PETTY,  SIR  W.,  Plan  of  a  Mechanical  Co  leg*,  1647  25 

PHELPS,  ALMIRA  L.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 25 

PHELPS,  W.  F.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 


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PAYKE,  A.,  The  Science  and  Art  of  Education.  25 

PHILBRICK,  JOHN  D.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 60 

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Report  on  Boston  Public  School",  1874 60 

PLATTKR,  T.,  School  Lifo  in  the  15in  Century 25 

PLUTARCH,  Educational  Views 25 

POJIBAL,  MARQUIS,  Educa.  Work  in  Portugal...  25 

Port  (loyalists,  Educational  Views 25 

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Bernard's  Educational  Activity  in  Conn.  &  R.  I  60 

Portugal,  System  of  Public  Insiructi.ni 25 

POTTER,  ALONZO,  Memoir  and  Portrait 50 

Consolidation  of  American  College* 25 

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Pru-r-ia,  System  of  Public  Schools 8.00 

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3.  Universities 60 

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RANDALL,  HENUY  S..  School  Libraries  25 

RANDALL,  S.  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait 60 

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Methods  of  Teaching  Lit  in 25 

Methods  of  Teaching  Arithmetic 25 

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Tb«  »boT»  TrtatlMf  h»T(  »I1  appcind  M  *r»nt«  articles  la  Barnard'*  American  Joureal  at  Education.    Any  Book  er  Pamphlet  on  th.  I.I.I  wl 
at  by  m»ll,  pottapt  pnid,  on  rvMivInf  the  prlr*  In  po«ac«  itamp*  or  moaij  onl«r .      Oo  orJrri  of  |9}  a  di«eouat  of  90  per  c«ot.  will  h«  made. 
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OBJECT  TEACHING. 

BY  E.  A.  SHELDON,  OSWEGO,  N.  T. 

IN  opening  the  discussion  on  this  occasion,  on  what  is  sometimes 
technically  called  "  Object  Teaching,"  I  propose  first  very  briefly  to 
state  the  principles  upon  which  the  methods  thus  indicated  are 
based.  Secondly  to  consider  some  of  the  difficulties  that  lie  in  the 
way  of  the  progress  of  these  reformed  methods  of  teaching,  and  the 
best  way  of  removing  them ;  and  lastly  consider  the  true  aim  and 
limit  of  these  methods  as  applied  to  the  development  of  the  early 
faculties  of  childhood. 

We  assume  first  that  education  should  embrace  the  united,  har. 
monious  development  of  the  whole  being,  the  moral,  the  physical, 
and  the  intellectual ;  and  that  no  one  of  these  should  be  urged  for 
ward  to  the  neglect  or  at  the  expense  of  the  other.  We  likewise 
assume  that  there  is  a  natural  order  in  the  evolution  of  the  human 
faculties,  and  also  of  appliances  for  their  development,  a  knowledge 
of  which  is  essential  to  the  highest  success  in  education  ;  that  the 
perceptive  faculties  are  the  first  and  most  strongly  developed  and 
upon  them  are  based  all  future  acquirements ;  that  just  in  propor 
tion  as  they  are  quick  and  accurate  in  receiving  impressions,  will 
all  the  future  processes  of  education  and  outgrowing  attainments 
be  easy  and  rapid,  and  ever  prove  unfailing  sources  of  delight ;  and 
hence  they  should  be  the  first  to  receive  distinctive  and  special  cul 
ture.  To  this  we  may  add  that  childhood  has  certain  marked  and 
distinctive  characteristics  which  should  never  be  lost  sight  of  in  all 
our  dealings  with  children.  Among  the  more  prominent  of  these 
are  activity,  love  of  sympathy,  and  a  desire  for  constant  variety. 
In  the  natural  order  of  subjects  we  recognize  as  first,  mathematics, 
including  a  consideration  of  form,  size,  and  number ;  second,  physics, 
including  objects  in  nature,  their  sensible  qualities  and  properties, 
and  third,  language,  including  oral  and  written  expression,  reading 
and  spelling. 

We  have  thus  stated,  as  concisely  as  possible,  the  very  first  steps 
in  this  natural  order,  upon  which  must  be  based  all  successful  edu 
cational  efforts ;  for  the  limited  time  alVotted  to  this  paper  reminds 

30 


4G6  OBJECT  TEACHING. 

us  of  the  necessity  of  confining  ourselves  closely  to  the  point  under 
discussion. 

It  would  be  not  a  little  interesting  to  trace  the  natural  relation 
of  these  two  orders  throughout  a  complete  educational  course,  nor 
would  it  be  entirely  foreign  to  our  subject;  but  this  would  lead  us 
into  too  broad  a  field  of  investigation,  and  be  liable  to  divert  the 
discussion  from  the  point  particularly  before  us.  We  will  not  stop 
now  to  consider  in  detail  the  method  best  adapted  to  the  develop 
ment  of  the  infant  faculties,  but  will  advert  to  them  after  consider 
ing  briefly  a  few  of  the  more  prominent  obstacles  that  lie  in  the 
way  of  the  most  successful  progress  of  these  improved  methods  of 
teaching.  And  in  this  connection  we  remark  first,  that  the  very 
title  by  which  these  methods  are  popularly  designated  is  open  to 
serious  objection.  It  is  true  that  the  term  "Object  Teaching"  is, 
to  a  certain  extent,  suggestive  of  the  real  character  of  these  early 
processes,  in  that  we  are  continually  dealing  with  tangible  objects 
and  illustrations,  but  it  is  liable  to  be  taken  in  a  too  limited  sense. 
Instead  of  embracing  a  large  number  of  subjects,  and  covering  the 
entire  field  of  the  early  culture  of  the  faculties,  many  have  taken  it 
to  mean  nothing  more  than  miscellaneous  lessons  on  objects.  These 
lessons  often  clumsily  given  by  those  who  have  no  knowledge  of 
correct  principles,  and  who  therefore  continually  violate  them,  have 
led  many  to  condemn  the  whole  system,  and  thus  in  certain  quarters 
to  bring  it  into  disrepute. 

Again,  book  speculators  are  continually  making  use  of  the  term 
as  a  catch  word,  for  the  purpose  of  disposing  of  their  wares ;  thus 
imposing  upon  the  uninitiated,  and  bringing  into  discredit  methods 
of  which  these  books  are  the  farthest  possible  from  being  the  repre 
sentatives.  In  this  way  old  books  have  received  new  title  pages, 
and  new  books  with  old  methods  have  been  christened  with  the 
catch  word,  "  Object  Lessons,"  or  "  On  the  Object  Plan  ; "  and  what 
is  lamentable,  multitudes  know  not  the  difference  between  the  name 
and  the  thing.  In  this  way  much  mischief  has  already  been  done, 
and  much  more  is  yet  to  be  experienced. 

Realizing  these  objections,  some  have  proposed  to  change  the 
name,  substituting  a  term  more  comprehensive  and  Ic^s  1'iaMe  to 
objection.  But  this  change  of  names  will  only  sul>j»-i-t  publishers 
to  an  additional  expense  of  new  title  pair<-s.  and  will  not  wholly  ob 
viate  the  evils  referred  to.  Our  plan  would  be  to  drop  all  specific 
namrs  ami  speak  of  all  improved,  natural  or  philosophical  methods 
of  teaching  as  such,  and  let  the  great  effort  be  to  infuse  right  prin 
eiplo  into  the  minds  of  teachers,  to  lead  them  to  study  the  mental 


OBJECT  TEACHING.  4(3*7 

moral  and  physical  constitution  of  children,  and  the  best  method 
of  bringing  this  treble  nature  out  in  harmonious  development.  In 
this  lies  our  only  hope  of  any  substantial  improvement  in  educa 
tional  processes. 

This  leads  me  to  consi-der  secondly,  as  a  serious  obstacle  lying  in 
the  way  of  the  proposed?  reformation,  the  ignorance  of  teachers 
upon  the  points  just  referred  to,  and  their  disposition  to  study 
methods  rather  than  principles.  Now,  any  proper  system  of  educa 
tion  must  be  based  upon  philosophical  principles,  upon  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  natural  order  of  development  of  the  being  to  be  edu 
cated,  in  his  mental,  moral  and  physical  constitution,  and  the 
corresponding  appliances  for  promoting  such  growth ;  and  no  one 
can  hope  for  success  who  does  not  clearly  comprehend  these  prin 
ciples.  The  first  effort  then  on  the  part  of  teachers  should  be  to 
study  principles,  and  then  the  mode  of  applying  them.  The  reverse 
of  this  is  the  course  now  being  pursued  in  this-country.  Teachers 
are  endeavoring  to  imitate  models  from  books,  rather  than  making 
themselves  first  familiar  with  the  principles  upon  which  these 
methods  are  based,  and  then  using  these  models  as  aids  in  applying 
them.  The  only  remedy  for  this  evil,  as  it  seems  to  us,  is  the  es 
tablishment  of  Training  Schools  for  the  professional  education  of 
teachers.  Not  schools  in  which  the  branches  are  taught,  but  where 
the  whole  aim  and  effort  shall  be  to  impart  a  practical  knowledge 
of  the  science  of  education  and  the  art  of  applying  it.  In  these 
schools  should  be  exhibited  the  highest  excellence  in  the  art  of 
teaching.  There  should  also  be  schools  of  practice  where  the  stu 
dents  shall  have  abundant  opportunity  for  applying  the  instruction 
they  receive,  and  the  methods  they  observe. 

Who  would  think  of  employing  a  man  who  never  had  any  prac 
tice  in  carpentry  to  build  the  house  he  designed  as  a  permanent 
home  for  himself  and  his  children,  although  he  might  be  perfectly 
familiar  with  all  the  books  ever  written  on  this  subject  ?  We  re 
quire  that  our  mechanics  have  not  only  the  rules  of  their  trades, 
but  the  practice  also,  before  we  presume  to  employ  them,  and  this 
too  even  in  the  more  unimportant  arts.  They  must  serve  an  ap 
prenticeship — a  term  that  implies  years  of  careful  observation,  study 
and  practice. 

They  must  not  only  become  familiar  with  all  the  tools  used  in 
their  trade,  and  the  exact  use  to  be  made  of  each,  but  they  must 
also  become  skilled  in  using  them.  And  not  only  must  the  appren 
tice  know  his  tools,  and  know  how  to  use  them,  before  he  is  °ji- 
trusted  with  any  important  work  away  from  the  eye  of  his  master, 


f,,s  OBJECT  TEACHING. 

but  must  also  have  a  thorough  and  exact  knowledge  of  the  charac 
ter  and  composition  of  the  materials  used  in  his  art;  their  strength, 
durability,  and  solidity,  that  he  may  know  how  always  to  adapt 
them  to  the  exact  place  they  are  to  occupy.  Without  this  knowl 
edge  the  sculptor  with  a  wrong  tool,  or  the  wrong  use  of  the  right 
one,  a  little  too  heavy  a  blow  of  the  mallet,  or  the  artist  with  a 
wrong  pigment,  or  a  wrong  stroke  of  the  pencil,  may  ruin  his  sub 
ject.  The  mechanic  by  the  omission  of  a  single  brace,  or  the  use 
of  a  wrong  timber,  or  one  composed  of  weak,  perishable  material, 
or  by  the  putting  together  of  materials  composed  of  different  pow 
ers  of  contraction  and  expansion,  may  ruin  his  edifice  and  endanger 
many  lives,  or  much  valuable  property.  In  view  of  these  facts  we 
are  all  agreed  as  to  the  importance  of  a  thorough  apprenticeship  in 
all  the  mechanic  arts  and  trades.  In  the  professions  too,  in  law, 
medicine,  surgery,  a  special  professional  education  is  deemed  indis 
pensable.  What  intelligent  person  would  employ  a  quack  to  tam 
per  with  his  own  life  or  the  lives  and  health  of  his  family,  or 
entrust  a  case  involving  large  interests  in  the  hands  of  an  unread 
and  unskilled  lawyer?  Who  would  entrust  the  amputation  of  a 
limb  to  the  hands  of  one  not  conversant  with  the  anatomy  of  the 
human  frame,  or  unskilled  in  the  use  of  the  knife?  If  then  so 
much  importance  is  attached  to  the  careful  preparation  of  the  vari 
ous  artizans  and  men  of  other  professions,  for  their  work,  (and  no 
one  can  say  that  its  importance  is  over-estimated,)  what  shall  be 
said  of  the  wickedness  and  folly  of  employing  both  ignorant  and 
unskilled  hands  to  form  and  fashion  this  noblest  of  all  God's  crea 
tions — the  immortal  mind  !  Is  it  that  the  mind  is  less  intricate,  or 
of  less  importance  than  the  body,  that  we  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  entrusting  its  cultivation  to  the  uneducated  and  untrained  ?  This 
certainly  can  not  be  the  reason.  The  one  is  like  the  grass  that 
springeth  up  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening  is  cut  down,  while 
the  other  is  immortal  and  is  freighted  with  interests  of  the  most 
momentous  character — interests  linked  with  the  destinies  of  man 
kind  for  time  and  for  eternity.  The  human  mind  is  composed  of 
elements  the  most  subtle  and  complicated,  yet  capable  of  ln-in^ 
analyzed,  and  each  assigned  its  appropriate  place  and  function,  as 
also  the  order  and  method  of  its  evolution.  These  faculties  do  not, 
like  the  mineral,  grow  by  accretion,  but  by  their  natural  use ;  and 
ill-timed,  or  under  exercise,  or  a  neglect  of  the  proper  use  at  the 
proper  time,  are  alike  prejudicial ;  and  no  one  has  any  right  to  un 
dertake  the  work  of  developing  these  faculties  until  he  knows  some 
thing  of  their  real  character,  their  functions,  the  order  in  which 


OBJECT  TEACHING.  4gg 

they  manifest  themselves,  and  the  appliances  best  calculated  to 
develop  them  and  give  them  strength. 

No  mistakes  can  be  made  here  that  are  not  serious  in  their  char 
acter.  As  is  a  too  heavy  blow  from  the  mallet,  or  a  wrong  use  of 
the  pencil,  or  the  use  of  the  wrong  material  to  the  statue,  the  paint 
ing  or  the  edifice,  so  a  mistake  made  here,  an  undue  strain  of  a 
faculty  yet  weak,  and  but  faintly  developed,  or  the  neglect  of  those 
still  in  full  and  Active  vigor,  if  not  fatal  in  its  consequences,  is  due 
only  to  the  recuperative  power  of  the  mind  to  overcome  injuries 
inflicted,  ."• 

A  common  error  committed  in  Object  Teaching  is  in  converting 
exercises  that  should  be  strictly  for  development,  into  instruction 
in  abstract  science.  Now  the  aim  of  all  these  early  lessons  should 
be  to  quicken  the  perceptions,  and  give  them  accuracy,  awaken 
thought  and  cultivate  language.  To  this  end  the  senses  must  be 
exercised  on  the  sensible  qualities  and  properties  of  objects;  and 
when  the  consideration  of  these  objects  goes  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  senses,  then  of  course,  the  exercise  ceases  to  be  a  development 
exercise,  and  becomes  either  an  exercise  of  the  memory  or  of  some 
of  the  higher  faculties.  All  these  early  lessons  then  should  be  con 
fined  to  objects,  their  parts,  qualities  and  properties  that  come 
clearly  within  the  reach  of  the  senses  of  the  children,  and  no  gen 
eralizations  should  include  any  thing  more  than  such  objects  and 
their  qualities.  Definitions  should  in  no  case  go  beyond  the  mere 
description  of  the  actual  perceptions  of  the  children.  These  points 
\ve  regard  of  vital  importance,  and  that  we  may  be  clearly  under 
stood,  we  will  be  a  little  more  definite,  and  indicate  just  where  we 
Avould  begin,  and  how  far  we  would  go  in  c^arryinfj  out  the  leading  ex 
ercises  employed.  In  the  theory  we  have  presented,  these  should 
consist  of  lessons  on  Form,  Size  and  Number  as  belonging  to  math 
ematics;  of  lessons  on  Objects,  Animals,  Plants,  Color,  and  Place  or 
Geography,  as  belonging  to  Natural  History,  and  lessons  on  lan 
guage,  including  oral  and  written  expression,  reading  and  spelling. 

And  here  I  trust  I  shall  be  pardoned  for  presenting  my  views  on 
these  points  in  nearly  the  words  of  a  report  on  this  subject  present 
ed  last  week  at  the  Annual  meeting  of  the  New  York  State  Teach 
ers'  Association.  In  lessons  in  number  the  children  should  be  held 
long  and  closely  to  the  simple  combination  of  objects,  and  hence 
must  be  confined  to  numbers  that  come  fairly  within  the  range  of 
the  perceptions. 

The  lessons  on  Form  should  be  confined  to  the  observation  and 
description  of  some  of  the  more  simple  and  common  forms  in  na- 


470  OBJECT  TEACHING 

tare.  Here  we  must  guard  against  abstractions ;  the  mere  memo 
rizing  of  definitions  that  go  beyond  the  observations  of  the  children. 
As  we  have  already  said,  definitions  should  be  nothing  more  than 
mere  descriptions,  a  remark  that  applies  equally  to  all  kindred  sub 
jects  of  instruction.  The  lessons  on  Size  consist  of  nothing  more 
than  the  actual  measurement  of  various  objects  and  distances,  and 
the  simple  exercise  of  the  judgment  in  the  application  of  the  knowl 
edge  thus  gained.  * 

In  lessons  in  Color,  the  children  may  be  led  to  observe,  discrimi 
nate  and  name  the  leading  colors  and  their  tints  and  shades,  and 
apply  them  to  the  description  of  objects  in  nature.  This  will  add 
largely  to  their  stock  of  language,  and  greatly  aid  them  in  their 
future  lessons.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  just  here,  that  the  deficiency 
in  terms  to  express  in  our  language  distinctions  in  color  is  one  that 
is  deeply  felt,  and  any  effort  at  improvement  in  this  direction  should 
receive  our  hearty  encouragement.  Beyond  this  the  children  may 
be  indulged  in  mixing  colors,  to  observe  how  the  various  colors  are 
produced  from  the  primaries,  and  finally  their  intuitive  perceptions 
of  the  harmony  of  colors  may  be  called  out.  Not  that  any  attempt 
should  be  made  to  teach  the  -scientific  law  underlying  the  harmony 
of  colors,  but  they  simply  observe  that  "  certain  colors  look  well 
together." 

In  lessons  on  Place  or  Elementary  Geography,  the  attention  of 
the  child  is  confined  to  a  consideration  of  that  part  of  the  earth  which 
he  sees  in  his  daily  walks,  its  physical  and  industrial  features,  the 
various  grouping  and  relation  of  objects  to  each  other  and  himself, 
as  a  preparation  for  the  consideration  of  what  lies  beyond  his  own 
immediate  neighborhood.  9  In  lessons  on  animals  and  plants  we  be 
gin  by  calling  attention  to  the  parts,  position,  and  finally,  uses  of 
parts.  At  the  next  step,  in  lessons  on  animals,  the  children  are  led 
to  consider  something  of  characteristics  and  habits,  and  finally  of 
adaptation  of  parts  to  habits.  The  children  are  continually  exer 
cised  in  close  and  accurate  observation,  by  means  of  specimens  or 
pictures,  and  to  a  limited  extent  from  given  or  tangible  facts  and 
phenomena,  to  draw  conclusions,  thus  calling  forth  the,  as  y«  t, 
feeble  powers  of  reason.  In  some  of  tlir-r  l.itt-r  K^sons  s«>iiu-  little 
knowledge  of  the  natural  hi>t«»ry  of  the  animals  considered,  is  also 
imparted.  All  tli«->.-  ieMOttfl  .-in-  iriven  on  tin-  nn»iv  familiar  quadru 
peds  and  birds,  either  those  inhabiting  the  immediate  neighborhood 
or  of  which  they  have  been  made  acquainted  by  information.  Some 
attention  has  also  been  given  by  the  teacher  to  the  order  in  which 
these  lessons  have  been  oresented,  grouping  together,  or  rather  giv- 


OBJECT  TEACHING.  47 1 

ing  in  succession,  lessons  belonging  to  the  same  class  or  order. 
Thus  far,  however,  the  children  have  no  realizing  sense  of  any  such 
design.  After  having  gone  over  in  this  way  with  a  few  of  the  lead 
ing  types  of  each  order  of  mammals,  they  are  led  to  associate 
in  natural  groups  or  orders  the  animals  that  have  constituted 
the  subjects  of  these  lessons,  aided  by  the  knowledge  they  have  ac 
quired  of  their  characteristic  parts  and  habits.  These  systematic 
lessons,  however,  are  confined  to  mammals  arid  birds,  as  being  more 
familiar  to  the  children.  For  variety  an  occasional  lesson  may  be 
given  on  a  fish,  an  insect,  a  reptile,  or  a  shell,  those  somewhat  famil 
iar  to  the  children,  but  a  large  proportion  of  the  animals  belonging 
to  these1  and  the  lower  subdivisions  of  the  animal  kingdom  are  far 
ther  removed  from  the  child's  immediate  sphere  of  observation,  and 
therefore  the  basis  of  the  classification  is  less  apparent. 

In  "  Lessons  on  Objects "  proper,  as  distinct  from  "  Lessons  on 
Animals  and  Plants,"  the  first  lessons  should  be  on  objects  of  the 
most  familiar  character,  and  for  a  long  time  their  attention  should 
only  be  called  to  the  simple  parts  and  their  position.  This  involves 
no  use  of  difficult  terms,  but  at  the  same  time  cultivates  observa 
tion  and  the  power  of  accurate  expression.  At  the  next  step  some 
of  the  more  simple  and  common  qualities  are  added.  At  a  further 
step  more  occult  qualities,  requiring  more  close  and  careful  observa 
tion,  and  such  as  are  brought  out  by  experiment,  may  be  intro 
duced  ;  also,  to  a  limited  extent,  the  adaptation  of  qualities,  mate 
rial  or  structure,  to  use,  may  be  considered.  At  a  still  more  advanced 
stage,  some  information  in  regard  to  the  objects  considered  may  be 
brought  in,  as  also  a  simple  classification  of  the  objects  and  qualities 
considered.  In  connection  with  all  these  lessons,  the  cultivation  of 
language  should  be  made  one  of  the  leading  points;  commencing 
with  the  simplest  oral  expressions,  leading  on  to  written  reproduc 
tions,  and  finally  to  consecutive  narrative. 

This  leads  us  directly  to  a  consideration  of  language,  the  subject 
next  in  order.  It  was  a  favorite  maxim  of  Pestalozzi,  that "  The 
first  object  in  education  must  be  to  lead  a  child  to  observe  with 
accuracy ;  the  second,  to  express  with  correctness  the  result  of  his 
observations."  Again,  "  ideas  first,  and  language  afterward." 
That  there  is  a  natural  connection  between  thought  and  speech, 
observation  and  expression,  there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt.  Who 
has  not  observed  that  children  always  seek  a  name  for  every  new 
object  of  discovery,  and  are  never  satisfied  until  they  receive  it? 
It  is,  in  fact,  out  of  this  necessity  of  our  nature,  that  language  has 
grown  up,  expanded  and  enlarged,  to  keep  pace  with  the  growth  of 


472  OBJECT  TEACHING. 

ideas.  Bacon  has  well  said,  "  Men  believe  their  reason  to  be  lord 
over  their  words ;  but  it  often  happens  too,  that  words  exercise  a 
reciprocal  and  reactionary  power  over  our  intellect.  Words,  as  a 
Tartar's  bow,  shoot  back  upon  the  understanding  of  the  wisest,  and 
mightily  enta'ngle  and  pervert  the  judgment." 

Again,  of  what  practical  advantage  would  be  the  careful  cultiva 
tion  of  observation,  without  a  corresponding  power  of  expression  ? 
Ideas  unuttered  are  valueless  to  all  but  their  possessor,  but  well  ex 
pressed,  they  are  a  power  to  move  the  world.  Like  the  ripple 
started  on  the  surface  of  the  placid  lake,  their  influence  is  felt  to  the 
remotest  shores  of  time.  Now  as  observation  is  cultivated  by  care 
ful  and  constant  use,  so  is  language  by  the  frequent  expression  of 
ideas.  But  how  is  the  child  to  acquire  this  power  of  language,  or 
what  is  the  process  and  order  of  this  acquisition  ?  This  is  an  inter 
esting  question,  and  deserves  an  intelligent  answer.  Here,  as  in 
everything  else,  we  must  go  back  to  nature,  if  we  would  make  no 
mistakes.  Observe  then  the  child  in  his  first  utterances.  His  first 
efforts  at  speech  are  to  articulate  the  names  of  those  persons,  objects 
and  actions,  bearing  the  most  immediate  relation  to  his  desires  and 
necessities;  the  names  of  pa  and  ma,  the  articles  of  food  and  drink, 
the  different  members  of  the  household,  and  familiar  objects  about 
him.  Next  in  order  come  action-words. 

Neither  name  nor  action-words  are  as  yet  qualified,  but  these 
quality  words  follow  slowly  along. 

The  third  step  is  reached  before  the  time  of  school  life  begins. 
However,  when  the  transfer  is  made  from  the  nursery  to  the  school 
room,  this  vocabulary  must  be  enlarged  to  keep  pace  with  the 
growth  of  ideas.  Observing  then  the  order  already  indicated,  we 
begin  with  the  names  of  objects,  the  wholes  and  their  parts.  Next 
come  the  names  of  the  properties  and  qualities  of  objects,  proceed 
ing,  of  course,  from  the  most  simple  to  the  more  difficult.  But  is 
it  asked  to  what  extent  are  these  terms  to  be  given  ?  We  answer 
most  unhesitatingly,  just  so  far  as  the  child  feels  the  necessity  for 
their  use,  and  has  the  power  to  apply  them.  But  it  is  objected  that 
44  The  use  of  words  can  not  be  long  kept  up  or  remembered  by  the 
children,  that  are  above  the  current  language  of  the  circle  in  which 
they  move." 

\Ve  can  say  with  fhat  assurance  that  springs  from  careful  obser 
vation  and  experience,  that  they  are  governed  quite  as  much  in  the 
application  of  these  terms,  and  consequently  in  their  familiarity 
with  them,  by  the  necessity  they  experience  for  their  use  in  the  de 
scription  of  objects  about  them,  and. in  the  expression  of  their  per- 


m         OBJECT  TEACHING.  41^3 

ceptions,  as  by  the  language  of  the  home  circle,  or  immediate  asso 
ciates.  To  this  may  be  added  the  fact  that  for  five  hours  in  the 
day,  and  five  days  in  the  week,  and  this  for  several  successive  years, 
they  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  school-room,  where  these  terms 
are  "  current  language,"  and  the  children  from  the  humblest  homes 
readily  incorporate  them  into  their  own  dialect.  Were  not  these 
facts,  there  would  be  poor  encouragement  for  the  teacher  to  labor 
to  improve  the  diction,  manners  or  morals  of  the  poorer  classes. 

The  success  of  every  good  school  located  in  such  unfortunate 
neighborhood,  in  elevating  the  children  in  all  these  points,  is  suffi 
cient  to  substantiate  this  position.  On  what  other  principle  can  we 
account  for  the  elevation  of  successive  generations  and  races  of  men 
above  their  immediate  ancestors?  And  how  else  can  we  account 
for  the  growth  of  language  ?  We  must  depend  upon  the  school  to 
exert  a  refining,  civilizing  influence,  and  that  too  above  and  beyond 
the  immediate  "circle  in  which  they  move."  Now  in  the  language 
of  the  masses  of  the  people  there  is  a  great  dearth  of  terms  descrip 
tive  of  the  properties  and  qualities  of  objects.  How  and  where  is  this 
defect  to  be  remedied  ?  We  answer  emphatically,  by  the  cultivation 
of  language  in  the  schools.  We  have  already  stated  that  language 
as  the  expression  of  ideas,  bears  an  important  relation  to  their  de 
velopment  and  growth,  and  therefore  that  the  two  should  be  carried 
on  contemporaneously.  We  should,  therefore,  as  we  proceed  with 
the  exercises  in  developing  ideas,  give  the  terms  expressive  of  those 
ideas,  always  using,  however,  those  terms  which  are  most  simple, 
and  at  the  same  time  expressive  of  the  perceptions  to  be  indicated. 
In  all  these  exercises  reference  should  be  had  to  the  mental  status 
of  the  children ;  never  giving  any  more  than  can  be  readily  com 
prehended  and  appropriated.  In  these  and  all  other  school  exer 
cises,  the  answers  of  the  children  should  be  incorporated  into  full 
and  complete  expressions.  As  they  advance  they  will  take  pleasure 
in  reproducing  their  object  lessons  on  their  slates.  .  This  should 
always  be  encouraged,  and  should  become  a  daily  and  regular  exer 
cise.  Where  this  course  is  pursued  the  children  will  early  acquire 
the  power  of  easy  and  elegant  diction,  and  readiness  in  composition. 
The  subject  of  reading  is  one  surrounded  with  many  difficulties. 
These,  it  is  the  business  of  the  teacher  to  so  divide  and  classify  as 
to  present  but  one  difficulty  at  a  time,  and  make  the  successive, 
steps  easy  and  pleasurable  to  the  child.  The  difficulties  that  meet 
the  young  learner  at  the  very  threshold,  are  the  number  of  differ 
ent  sounds  represented  by  the  same  character,  the  number  of  differ 
ent  characters  representing  the  same  sound,  the  representation  of  the 


474  OBJECT  TEACHING. 

same  sound  sometimes  by  one  character  and  sometimes  by  another, 
and  sometimes  by  a  combination  of  characters,  and  the  frequent 
use  of  silent  letters.  To  obviate  these  difficulties  he  should  not  for 
a  long  time  be  confused  with  more  than  a  single  form  to  a  single 
sound.  With  twenty-three  characters  and  the  same  number  of 
sounds  a  large  amount  of  reading  matter,  consisting  of  easy  simple 
words,  may  be  given.  It  is  better  to  commence  with  the  small  forms 
of  the  letters,  as  they  are  better  adapted  for  general  use.  When 
the  children  become  familiar  with  these,  the  capitals  may  be  intro 
duced.  Gradually  new  sounds  may  be  brought  in,  and  with  them 
new  words.  A  few  words  may  be  learned  as  words,  to  enable  us  to 
fill  up  the  reading  matter.  In  connection  with  the  Object  Lessons, 
also,  new  words  are  being  continually  learned.  By  this  process,  in 
which  the  children  are  able  to  help  themselves  at  every  step  of  their 
progress,  they  ever  find  fresh  delight.  By  a  simple  plan  of  classifi 
cation,  in  which  words  of  like  anomalies  are  brought  together,  and 
which  the  children  at  first  dictate  themselves,  the  work  of  spelling 
is  made  one  of  the  most  pleasing,  ami  animated  exercises  in  the  school 
room.  These  words  are  both  spelled  orally  and  written  upon  the 
slate.  The  plan  we  have  suggested,  of  which  we  have  been  able 
only  to  give  the  merest  outline,  we  have  found  a  very  rapid  and 
thorough  one  in  teaching  children  to  read  and  spell,  and  in  its  de 
tails  strictly  Pestalozzian. 

We  have  thus  briefly  alluded  to  a  few  of  the  leading  exercises, 
and  the  extent  to  which  they  should  be  employed  in  the  develop 
ment  of  the  early  faculties  of  childhood,  that  our  position  may  be 
definitely  understood,  and  for  the  reason  that  we  believe  them  liable  to 
much  abuse. 


OBJECT   SYSTEM  OF   INSTRUCTION 

AS  PURSUED   IN   THE   SCHOOLS   OF   OSWEQO. 

BY  H.   B.    WILBUR,   M.    D. 
Superintendent  of  the  State  Asylum  for  Idiots,  Syracuse,  N.  Y 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE. 

IN  consenting-  to  the  publication  of  the  following  paper,  read  before  the  Na 
tional  Association  of  Teachers,  at  its  last  meeting,  I  am  constrained,  in  justice 
to  myself,  to  prefix  a  brief  statement  of  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was 
prepared. 

Some  two  years  since,  I  delivered  an  address  before  the  New  York  State 
Teachers'  Association.  On  that  occasion  I  gave  some  account  of  my  own  pe 
culiar  work,  the  instruction  of  idiots  And  as  it  seemed  to  me  th;,t  my  experi 
ence  had  some  practical  relations  to  the  audience  before  me  and  to  the  topics 
just  then  somewhat  prominent  in  the  minds  of  American  educators,  I  ventured 
to  make  the  proper  application.  The  "object  system  of  instruction,"  so-called, 
was  referred  to  at  some  length,  and  I  indu'ged  in  some  passing  criticisms  upon, 
the  peculiar  methods  of  instruction  adopred  by  the  Home  arid  Colonial  Society 
of  Engl  .rid,  which  some  persons  wete  laboring  to  introduce  into  this  country. 

That  I  was  not  a  conservative  in  an  obnoxious  sense  in  my  educational  views, 
an  outline  of  what  was  then  sa:d  upon  these  two  points  will  sufficiently  show. 

I  attempted  to  set  forth  the  doctrine,  by  implication  rather  than  by  any  very 
distinct  enunciation,  that  there  were  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  the  one  which 
may  be  styled  natu  al  and  the  other  conventional.  I  remarked  that  the  educa 
tion  related  to  the  former  began  where  instinct  ceases,  and  consisted  of  a  judi 
cious  ministering  of  the  proper  aliment  to  the  intuitive  powers.  And  I  endeav 
ored  to  point  out  the  true  function  of  the  teacher,  in  respect  to  this  natural 
education. 

I  then  added  that,  as  in  point  of  time,  so  in  harmony  with  the  natural  order 
of  development  of  the  human  faculties,  was  it  fit  and  proper  that  the  acquisition 
of  natural  should  precede  that  of  conventional  knowledge,  and  that  the  former 
was  the  best  f< miidation  for  the  superstructure  of  the  latter.  The  summary 
statement  of  my  argument  upon  the  subject  was,  "  that  we  should  educate  the 
senses  and  through  the  senses,  the  intelligence  and  will,  and  then  apply  and 
subordinate  the  engendered  habits  of  accurate  observation  and  the  cultivated 
intellectual  activity  and  power  to  a  proper  method  of  acqu  ring  the  elementary 
studies  and  their  outgrowing  attainments." 

It  seemed  to  me  then  that,  if  these  views  were  correct,  they  had  a  twofold 
application  In  the  first  place,  that  our  system  of  primary  school  instruction, 
confining  itself,  as  it  had  hitherto  done,  mainly  to  elementary  studies  of  a  con 
ventional  character,  should  be  modified  by  the  introduction  of  a  preliminaij> 
class  of  exorcises,  designed  especially  to  cultivate  the  faculties  of  observation. 
That  the  elementary  branches  should  be  taught  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  blunt 
the  perceptive  faculties.  Of  course,  the  natural  outgrowth  of  these  two  provis 
ions  would  be,  that  the  apparent  acquirements  of  the  school-room  would  repro 
sent  the  actual  mental  power  and  knowledge  of  the  pupils. 

In  the  second  place,  sympathizing,  as  I  have  before  said,  fully  with  the  Naims 
of  those  seeking  reform  in  the  principles  and  methods  of  elementary  instruction, 
I  yet  could  not  fail  to  see  or  avoid  making  an  application  of  the  principles  I  had 
developed,  to  the  correction  of  certain  grievous  errors  some  of  these  well  dis 
posed  friends  of  education  had  fallen  into. 


476  OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

I  know  how  short  is  the  usual  school-attending  period  of  the  great  mass  of 
the  children  for  whom  our  school  pyatem  is  framed.  Avoiding,  therefore,  all 
educational  scheming,  I  would  have  that  system  so  sound  in  its  principles,  and 
so  judicious  in  its  methods,  that  it  may  leave  these  children,  on  the  thrushhold 
of  the  apprentice  stage  of  life,  with  all  their  natural  endowments  so  brought  into 
willing  and  active  exercise  by  preliminary  training,  that  nothing  in  the  whole 
world  of  relation,  designed  for  their  imprc  vetnent  or  pleasure,  should  be  thereafter 
unappropriated;  that  by  its  thorough  drill  in  the  strictly  elementary  branches  of 
teaming,  it  should  so  furnish  them  with  the  keys  to  all  educational  knowledge, 
that  their  future  attainments  should  be  limited  only  by  the  necessities  of  their 
peculiar  lot. 

In  noticing  the  English  system  of  instruction  mentioned,  I  dwelt  mainly  upon 
what  1  then  regarded  as  its  error  in  the  introduction  of  science  at  too  early  a 
stage  in  the  work  of  education,  not  only  in  the  form  of  po>itive  science,  but  in 
the  scientific  aspect  in  which  the  common  matters  of  daily  life  and  observation 
were  treated,  and  also  the  abuse  of  language. involved  in  their  practice. 

The  errors  into  which  I  feared  the  over -zealous  advocates  of  the  ''object  sys 
tem  "  might  fall  proved  to  be  no  chimeras.  An  evil,  which,  with  the  respect  I 
felt  for  American  teachers,  I  then  deprecated  as  somewhat  remote,  has  become 
more  imminent.  A  foreign  educational  scheme,  partial,  bigoted,  and  unphilo- 
sophical.  is  now  naturalized  in  the  coun'ry,  and  its  universal  propagation  de 
manded  by  zenlous  advocates.  The  "  Oswego  System  "  is  the  new  impress  that 
is  to  give  it  currency  on  this  side  the  water. 

To  increase  the  deception,  the  very  text-books  of  the  English  system  have 
been  brought  over  and  (to  the  scandal  of  American  publishers  it  must  be  con 
fessed,  with  no  alteration,  save  a  little  upsetiing  and  a  turning  wrong  end  fore 
most  of  here  and  there  a  section,  have  been  issued  as  of  American  authorship. 

Impulsive  friends  of  education  have  somewhat  ind'screet'y  indc  rsed  it,  by 
speaking  of  Oswego  as  "the  Mecca  of  Americ;  n  teachers;"  and  of  the  move 
ment  as  ''a  reform  which  is  welcomed  by  tlie  best  minds  of  the  nge,  which  has 
been  prophesied  and  prayed  for  by  the  best  lights  of  other  years." 

Even  some  persons,  who  should  have  been  more  discriminating,  looking  only 
at  the  motives  of  its  partisans,  have  good  naturedly  given  it  a  vague  counte 
nance,  as  lad.es  sometimes  give  a  "cliaractcr"  to  a  stupid  or  shiltiess  domestic, 
who  "  means  well." 

Besides,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  legislation  has  been  successfully  invoked 
to  establish  a  school  for  training  teachers  in  the  methods  of  a  foreign  school  so 
ciety— of  dubious  reputation  at  home — outside  of  its  Normal  Schcol.  which  is 
supposed  to  have  been  created  for  the  very  purj  ose  of  educating  tea<  hers  in  the 
most  approved  methods  of  instruction  of  every  grade  and  wherever  originating. 

"With  these  circumstances  in  view,  when  invited  to  prepare  a  paper  for  the 
last  meeting  of  the  National  Associatu  n  of  Teachers,  on  the  "Object  System," 
a  sense  of  duty  constrained  me  to  accept  And  I  ventured  on  a  discussion  of 
the  subject  which  I  knew  must  be  inadequate,  if  for  no  other  reasons,  tl.at  I  was 
precluded  from  presenting  the  most  obvious  objections  to  the  system,  inasmuch 
as  I  had  done  this  on  a  previous  occasion,  and  because  also  the  invitation  1  re 
ceived  from  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Association  rather  limited  me  to  a 
half  hour  and  which  I  endeavored  not  to  transcend. 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 


THE  OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 


THE  topic  assigned  me  for  the  present  half  hour  is  the  "Object 
System  "  of  instruction.  To  avoid  all  misapprehension,  I  may  say 
at  the  outset,  that  I  shall  confine  myself  mainly  to  some  thoughts 
in  connection  with  what  is  called  in  this  country  the  "  Oswego  Sys 
tem."  This  is  substantially  a  system  of  instruction  transplanted 
from  England,  and  known  there  as  the  Home  and  Colonial  Society's 
system  of  instruction.  The  circumstances  attending  the  adoption 
of  this  foreign  system  on  this  side  of  the  water  need  not  be  stated, 
except  in  the  most  general  terms.  The  zealous  Superintendent  of 
the  public  schools  of  Oswego,  (whom  I  need  not  name,)  in  common 
with  many  holding  similar  relations  to  the  schools  of  other  cities, 
felt  the  need  of  some  change  in  the  methods  -of  instruction  prevail 
ing  in  the  primary  departments.  The  want  he  felt  he  thought  well 
supplied  by  the  English  system  alluded  to.  With  zeal  and  energy 
he  set  himself  to  the  task  of  introducing  it  in  his  own  proper  field 
of  labor.  He  has  accomplished  this — and  more.  We  find  the  same 
system  now  urged  upon  the  friends  of  education  everywhere  for  a 
similar  adoption.  And  so  it  comes  fairly  before  a  National  Associ 
ation  of  Teachers  for  discussion. 

It  hardly  need  be  said  to  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  history 
of  the  educational  reform,  inaugurated  in  this  country  nearly  forty 
years  ago,  that  the  new  want  I  have  spoken  of,  as  being  generally 
felt  by  a  certain  class,  was  not  to  be  satisfied  by  the  search  for,  or 
the  finding  of  any  new  principles  of  education. 

The  new  problem  offered  to  those  interested  was,  how  shall  we 
apply,  in  the  earlier  stages  of  school  instruction,  most  wisely  and 
most  fruitfully,  principles  of  education  generally  recognized  and 
acknowledged  in  this  country  ? 

I  say  generally  recognized  and  acknowledged  in  this  country. 
This  is  not  too  much  to  say,  for  here  more  than  elsewhere — almost 
only  here — were  sound  principles  and  i-iethods  of  instruction  gen 
erally  prevalent.  The  reasons  are  obvious.  The  American  mind  is 
unusually  active  upon  educational  subjects,  for  theoretically  our  re 
publican  form  of  government  is  based  upon  universal  education,  and 
an  education  not  peculiar  to  a  caste  or  rank  in  society.  Again,  the 
great  majority  of  our  educated  men  have  been  practical  teachers  for 
longer  or  shorter  periods  of  their  lives.  Look  for  a  moment  at  the 
history  of  education  during  the  period  mentioned,  a  histoiy  adorned 


478  O3WEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

•with  (lie  names  of  many  eminent  men.  A  history  that  furnishes 
abundant  evidence  of  much  thought  in  the  elucidation  of  principles 
and  in  the  devising  of  methods.  Notice  the  machinery  of  the  edu 
cational  movement;  the  essays  and  discussions,  the  public  addresses 
and  the  multiplied  associations  for  mutual  improvement;  the  Teachers' 
institutes  and  the  Normal  schools ;  the  literature  of  the  profession  of 
the  teacher  embracing  everything  worthy  of  recopd,  whether  in  the 
way  of  personal  thought  or  individual  experience,  the  world  being 
tributary;  not  forgetting  the  periodical  contributions  from  every 
quarter.  Further,  mark  the  resulting  evidence  of  all  this  labor  well 
performed  in  the  general  public  interest,  in  the  judicious  legislation, 
and  in  the  wonderful  improvement  in  text-books.  And  again,  notice 
the  light  incidentally  furnished  by  special  systems  of  education. 
The  result  of  this  general  awakening  in  the  public  mind  upon  the 
subject  of  education,  I  hardly  need  to  say,  though  reaching  to  the 
principles  most  fundamental,  was  not  manifested  by  measures  vio 
lent,  hasty,  or  subversive.  The  reform  kept  step  with  the  advance 
of  an  enlightened  public  sentiment,  if  at  times  it  were  one  step  in 
advance.  It  were  well  if  the  future  waves  of  improvement  in  the 
same  direction  should  roll  as  quietly  and  steadily  forward  on  the 
shores  of  coming  time. 

But  a  graded  system  of  school  instruction  brings  out  a  new  want 
A  large  class  of  children  are  brought  together,  with  little  or  no 
previous  instruction,  and  almost  too  young  for  the  continuous  atten 
tion  and  thought  required  to  master  the  elementary  branches  of  the 
school-room,  as  taught  in  the  ordinary  way.  They  are  deprived  of 
those  educational  influences  that  so  pervaded  the  atmosphere'  of  the 
school-room  of  mixed  grades  and  which  insinuated  themselves  into 
every  avenue  to  the  active  mind  of  childhood.  They  are  now  de 
pendent  for  improvement  upon  the  exercise  of  their  own  intuitive 
powers  and  upon  the  resources  of  the  teacher. 

We  need  not  stop  to  discuss  the  question,  whether,  viewed  in  re 
lation  to  the  proper  orderly  and  harmonious  development  of  their 
faculties,  these  children  should  be  in  school  at  all,  thus  early,  for  in 
school  they  are.  And  so  it 'happens,  that  under  the  new  cin-um 
stances,  that  which  should  be  the  work  of  nature,  is  brought  within 
the  function  of  the  teacher,  and  accordingly  new  topics  and  methods 
of  instruction  must  be  introduced.  It  hardly  need  be  pointed  out 
with  what  extreme  diffidence  wo  should  appnwh  -'my  task  that  in 
volves  any  interference  with  nature's  methods,  or  how  zealous  should 
be  the  endeavor  when  such  interference  is  necessitated  to  follow  her 
analogous  teachings,  and  how  promptly  we  should  cease  our  inter- 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  4*79 

ference  at  the  first  moment  practicable.  The  natural  channels  to 
the  pupil's  mind  are  first  to  be  opened  before  they  can  be  used  for 
receiving  or  imparting  instruction.  Again,  the  natural  avenues  are 
to  be  used  before  what  may  be  called  the  conventional  ones  are 
brought  in  requisition.  Arid  so  the  powers  of  observation  and 
speech  (or  spoken  language)  are  to  be  cultivated  before  any  positive 
instruction  in  reading  and  writing  is  attempted.  Cultivated  it  should 
be  remembered  for  purposes  and  ends  mainly  practical  and  discipli 
nary.  Has  it  occurred  to  those  of  you  who  have  seen  blind  chil 
dren  spelling  out  with  busy  fingers  and  delighted  faces  the  page  of 
raised  letters  and  thus  receiving  food  for  their  active  minds  through 
a  channel  wrought  out  for  them  by  the  agency  of  a  sense  perverted 
from  its  legitimate  function,  that  in  teaching  ordinary  children  to 
read  from  the  printed,  or  written  page,  the  same  thing  is  substan 
tially  done  ;  that  is,  the  eye  is  made  to  perform,  the  natural  office  of 
the  ear — that  a  new  gift  is  imparted. 

One  result  of  bringing  together  children  of  the  same  grade  is,  to 
bring  out  more  distinctly  the  class  mental  peculiarities,  the  class 
educational  needs,  and  so  more  obviously  the  proper  modes  of  meet 
ing  those  needs.  I  have  elsewhere  stated,  in  a  summary  way,  my 
idea  of  the  scope  and  aim  of  a  proper  elementary  education,  which 
I  will  venture  to  reproduce.  "  That  we  should  educate  the  senses 
and  through  the  senses,  the  intelligence  and  will,  and  then  apply  and 
subordinate  the  engendered  habits  of  accurate  observation  and  the 
cultivated  intellectual  activity  and  power,  to  proper  methods  of  ac 
quiring  the  elementary  studies  and  their  outgrowing  attainments." 

In  seeking  to  accomplish  the  ends  thus  defined,  the  main  reliance 
of  the  educator  is  upon  a  proper  study  and  comprehension  of  the 
characteristics  of  childhood,  the  natural  order,  mode,  and  rate  of 
development  of  the  childish  faculties.  The  proof  of  this  is  furnished 
by  recalling  any  synoptical  statement  of  the  principles  of  education, 
and  noticing  how  many  of  them  relate  to  these  very  points.  It  is 
of  importance  to  remember  this  because  much  time  and  labor  have 
been  lately  wasted  in  devising  methods  of  instruction  based  upon 
foundations  merely  speculative,  and  some  injury  done  by  attempting 
to  put  these  methods  in  practice.  I  may  illustrate  this  by  citing 
two  or  three  forms  of  theoretical  error  in  this  regard  representing 
quite  a  diversity  of  opinion — all  "  idols  of  the  cave." 

The  first  of  these  is  a  method  based  upon  a  theory  that  every 
child  must  "rediscover  for  himself  the  truths  and  results  to  be  ac 
quired  in  each  department  of  knowledge  undertaken  by  the  learner," 
and  the  corollary  from  this,  "  that  no  truth  or  knowledge  which  is 


480  OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

in  its  nature  a  consequent  on  some  other  truths  or  knowledge  can 
by  any  possibility  be  in  reality  attained  by  any  mind,  until  after 
that  mind  has  tirst  secured  and  rightly  appreciated  those  antecedent 
truths  or  knowings."  This  involves,  it  will  be  observed,  a  form  of 
instruction  always  absolutely  synthetical.  This  is  partially  true 
— true  as  far  as  intuitive  education  is  concerned  and  true  no 
farther. 

Another  error,  not  unheard  of  by  this  Association,  is  a  theory 
that  there  is  a  rational  order  of  development  in  the  course  of  the 
sciences,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  followed  in  common  education; 
for  the  reason  that  it  is  claimed  that  this  order  of  succession  in  the 
sciences  corresponds  precisely  to  the  order  of  evolution  of  the  fac 
ulties.  Now  this  is  an  assumption  based  upon  the  most  fanciful 
analogies,  but  as  I  find  it  asserted  with  great  emphasis,  in  a  report 
to  which  my  own  name  is  signed,  I  leave  it  for  others  to  deal  with. 

One  other  theory  deserves  a  passing  notice.  It  will  be  found 
elaborated  by  Herbert  Spencer  and  cropping  out  quite  generally  in 
the  essays  and  discussions  that  have  since  appeared  upon  educa 
tional  topics.  After  admitting  the  distinction  between  education 
as  relates  to  discipline  and  to  the  value  of  the  knowledge  acquired, 
he  at  once  assumes  that  w  hat  is  best  for  the  one  end  is  also  best  for 
the  other.  lie  then  proceeds  to  develop  a  scheme  for  education* 
based  upon  the  relative  and  practical  uses  of  knowledge.  If  his 
course  of  reasoning  proves  anything  it  proves  that  physiology 
should  be  the  first  study  of  childhood,  then  the  means  of  getting  a 
livelihood,  then  the  treatment  of  offspring  and  the  government  of 
children,  and  finally  the  study  of  social  science. 

Let  me  now  examine  briefly  the  mode  in  which  the  Oswego  Sys 
tem  aims  to  accomplish  the  ends  I  have  supposed.  To  be  sure  it 
claims  to  be  more  than  a  system  of  Primary  School  instruction.  It 
claims  to  be  the  only  correct  system  for  any  stage  of  education. 
"  That  if  adopted,  it  will  lead  to  a  complete  revolution  in  our  meth 
ods  of  teaching  in  this  country,"  (where  it  is  asserted  "  we  have 
never  had  any  system  based  on  sound  philosophical  principles,)  as 
also  in  the  profession  of  teaching  itself,  or  rather  it  will  make  teach 
ing  a  profession — a  title  it  has  yet  to  earn." 

In  making  a  somewhat  hurried  preparation  for  the  part  assigned 
me  on  this  occasion,  I  have  spent  some  time  in  the  examination  of 
the  various  manuals  designed  for  the  instruction  of  teachers  in  the 
new  system.  I  confess  the  result  has  been  somewhat  discouraging. 
The  principles  laid  down  are  somewhat  contradictory  in  their  char 
acter.  They  are  wanting  in  definiteness,  and,  most  of  all,  they  are 


OSVVEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  481 

so  enveloped  in  the  voluminous  details  of  methods,  that  it  is  difficult 
to  discover  the  distinctive  features,  and  somewhat  confusing  to  one 
attempting  to  discuss  them. 

Referring  then  to  the  Oswego  manuals,  I  find  first  a  statement  of 
what  are  called  Pestalozzian  plans  and  principles.  On  examination,  I 
£nd  that  some  latitude  has  been  used  in  applying  the  term  Pesta 
lozzian.  Transmutation  as  well  as  translation  will  be  seen  in  their 
treatment  of  the  great  reformer.  It  may  be  remarked  of  these  gen 
erally,  that  whatever  of  them  are  sound  have  not  the  claim  of  nov 
elty  to  American  teachers,  and  what  are  new  of  no  value,  if  not 
leading  to  positive  error. 

1.  Activity  is  a  law  of  childhood.     Accustom  the  child  to  do — educate  the 
hand. 

2.  Cultivate  the  faculties  in  their  natural  order — first  form  the  mind,  then 
furnish  it. 

3.  Begin  with  the  senses,  and  never  tell  a  child  what  he  can  discover  for 
himself. 

4.  Reduce  every  subject  to  its  elements — one  difficulty  at  a  time  is  enough 
for  a  child. 

5.  Proceed  step- by  step.     Be  thorough.     The  measure  of  information  is  not 
what  the  teacher  can  give,  but  what  the  child  can  receive. 

6.  Let  every  lesson  have  a  point,  except  in  junior  schools,  where  more  than 
one  lesson  is  required  before  the  point  is  reached,  each  successively  tending  to 
wards  it. 

7.  Develop  the  idea — then  give  the  term — cultivate  language. 

8.  Proceed  from  the  known  to  the  unknown — from  the  particular  to  the  gen 
eral — from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract — from  the  simple  to  the  more  difficult. 

9.  First  synthesis,  then  analysis — not  the  order  of  the  subject,  but  the  order 
of  nature. 

Let  us  examine  these  principles  briefly. 

"  1st.  Activity  is  a  law  of  childhood.  Accustom  the  child  to  do 
— educate  the  hand." 

It  will  be  observed,  first,  that  there  is  an  implied  restriction  of 
this  law  of  childhood  to  his  physical  system.  Of  the  second  clause 
— should  it  not  rather  be  said,  let  the  child  do.  Let  him  use  not 
only  his  hands,  but  his  physical  system  generally.  The  distinction 
between  letting  the  child  do  and  accustoming  him  to  do,  at  this 
early  stage,  is  an  important  one,  and  is  related  (if  activity  is  a  gen 
eral  law  of  childhood)  not  only  to  physical  actions,  but  also  to  the 
senses  and  the  faculties  which  act  spontaneously  on  the  presentation 
of  their  proper  objects.  Should  not  a  system  of  so  much  pretension 
direct  us  wisely  here  on  the  very  threshhold  ? 

"  2d.  Cultivate  the  faculties  in  their  natural  order — first  form  the 
mind,  then  furnish  it." 

The  truth  enunciated  here  is  older  than  Pestalozzi;  and  may  be 
found  in  some  form  or  another  in  half  the  works  on  education  pub 
lished  in  this  country  during  the  last  thirty  years.  As  to  the  second 

31 


482  OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

clause,  one  might  naturally  ask,  is  it  a  corollary  from  the  first!  or 
only  meant  as  a  reiteration  ?  or  what  ? 

"  3d.  Begin  with  the  senses,  and  never  tell  a  child  what  he  can 
discover  for  himself." 

What  is  the  designed  relation  between  the  two  clauses  of  this 
rule  ?  Must  we  never  tell  a  child  what  he  can  discover  for  himseM? 

"  4th.  Reduce  every  subject  to  its  elements — one  difficulty  at  a 
time  is  enough  for  a  child." 

This  seems  a  harmless  proposition.  But  the  practical  inferences 
in  the  way  of  method,  that  the  manuals  are  full  of,  gives  it  another 
aspect. 

"  5th.  Proceed  step  by  step.  Be  thorough.  The  measure  of  in 
formation  is  not  what  the  teacher  can  give,  but  what  the  child  can 
receive."  • 

Would  not  these  directions  indicate  that  the  process  of  education 
is  not  always  and  strictly  a  development  exercise,  in  which  the  child 
is  the  main  actor? 

"  7th.  Develop  the  idea — then  give  the  term — cultivate  language." 

If  this  rule  were  designed  only  to  enforce  the  truth  that  ideas 
should  precede  language,  no  comment  would  be  necessary.  But 
herewith  is  connected  one  of  the  most  vicious  methods  of  the  Os- 
wego  System.  In  the  light  of  their  practical  teachings  it  means 
that  with  the  idea  the  term  must  be  invariably  connected ;  that  the 
observation  and  language  must  be  inseparably  connected.  And  it 
is  assumed  that  when  the' idea  is  mastered,  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
retaining  the  appropriate  term  on  the  part  of  the  pupil. 

It  is  claimed  that  the  peculiar  phraseology  of  the  summary  is 
strictly  a  resultant  of  the  workings  of  the  class  mind.  And  so  we 
find  in  connection  with  each  lesson,  or  series  of  observations,  the 
W.  B.  (writing  on  the  board)  and  the  S.  R  (simultaneous  repeti 
tion)  to  fix  in  the  pupil's  mind  the  set  phrase  and  the  stereotyped 
formula  that  the  teacher  furnishes  as  the  summary  of  the  particular 
class  exercise. 

But  the  partisans  of  the  Oswego  System,  or  their  progenitors  in 
England,  were  not  the  original  sinners.  It  was  precisely  here  where 
Pestalozzi  went  so  grievously  astray  from  his  own  early  principles, 
as  to  draw  from  one  of  his  cotemporaries  the  remark,  that  "he 
kicked  over  with  his  feet  what  he  built  up  with  his  hands."  And 
these  very  practices  of  his  have  been  disrurdfd  by  intelligent  edu 
cators  everywhere,  even  when  professedly  following  the  doctrines  of 
the  German  school. 

"  Observation  (said  he)  is  the  absolute  basis  of  all  knowledge. 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  433 

"The  first  object,  then,  in  education  must  be,  to  lead  a  child  to  ob 
serve  with  accuracy  ;  the  second,  to  express  with  correctness  the 
result  of  his  observations."  There  is  abundant  evidence  from  his 
works  that  he  did  not  mean  by  this,  that  observation  should  be  the 
principal  object  of  instruction  at  its  earlier  stage  and  language  at  a 
later  period.  The  English  and  Oswego  disciples  have  faithfully 
copied  the  defects  of  their  master. 

Now  is  it  necessary  to  affirm  in  this  presence,  that  language  has 
absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  observation  as  far  as  it  concerns  the 
pupil  ?  That  the  observing  powers  are  exercised  for  a  long  period 
in  childhood  before  the  gift  of  language  is  received,  and  that  the 
child  not  only  uses  the  senses,  but  discriminates,  compares,  reasons, 
judges,  decides,  and  wills  in  connection  with  such  use  of  the  senses, 
and  all  this  without  the  use  of  any  language  ? 

But  the  time  comes  when  language  is  necessary  for  the  express 
ion  of  wants  and  ideas,  and  then  it  is  given.  In  the  roll  of  educa 
tion  the  teacher  avails  himself  of  this  natural  gift,  this  child-language, 
to  test  the  progress  of  the  child,  and  so  it  is  properly  connected  with 
observation  and  with  the  growth  of  ideas. 

Again,  a  period  comes  when  language  which  has  been  acquired  in 
tuitively,  and  without  any  conscious  effort  on  the  part  of  the  child, 
may  be  properly  a  subject  of  positive  instruction,  by  methods  so 
wisely  suggested  in  the  opening  address  of  the  President  of  this  As 
sociation  ;  for  when  the  higher  and  reflective  powers  of  the  mind 
are  brought  into  active  exercise,  language  precise  and  adequate  be 
comes  necessary  as  the  means  of  thought. 

Language  (let  me  repeat  again)  which  in  the  infancy  of  the  indi 
vidual,  as  well  as  that  of  the  race,  is  a  mere  means  of  expressing  the 
immediate  wants  of  the  individual  or  the  race  in  its  then  condition  ; 
expands  not  only  commensurately  with  increasing  desires,  but  ab 
solutely  acquires  another  function ;  that  is,  as  the  instrument  of 
higher,  continuous,  and  abstract  thought;  and  this  fact,  or  the 
growth  of  language  to  meet  social  needs,  suggests  the  principle  that 
should  guide  in  the  introduction  of  language,  as  a,n  exercise  in  the 
school-room.  I  have  on  another  occasion  referred  to  this  topic  and 
so  I  can  only  hint  at  the  dangers  of  thus  early  and  intimately  con 
necting  the  study  of  language  with  the  development  of  the  faculties 
of  observation.  The  thing  signified  is  lost  in  the  effort  to  remem 
ber  the  sign.  Have  you  not  all  seen  a  bright  boy  in  a  class,  who 
could  and  would  answer  almost  intuitively  a  question  in  numbers 
like  the  following,  hesitate  and  stammer,  grow  confused  and  fail,  in 
attempting  to  cloak  the  fully  comprehended  truth  in  the  long  syllo 
gistic  formula  required  of  him  by  the  teacher  ?  Thus — 


484  OSWEOO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

If  2  bunches  of  matches  coat  4  cents,  what  will  4  bunches  cost?  The  pupil 
repeats  the  question  aud  gives  the  solution. 

Jf  2  bunches  ot  matches  cost  4  cents,  wh.-.t  will  4  bunches  cost?  1  bunch  of 
matches  will  cost  one-half  as  much  as  2  bunches  of  matches.  If  2  bunches  of 
matches  cost  4  cents,  1  bunch  of  matches  will  cost  one-half  of  4  cents,  which  are 
2  cents.  4  bunches  of  matches  will  cost  4  times  as  much  as  1  bunch  of  matches. 
If  1  bunch  cost  2  cents,  4  bunches  will  cost  4  times  2  cents,  which  are  8  cents. 
Therefore,  if  2  bunches  of  matches  cost  4  cents,  4  bunches  of  matches  will  cost 
8  cents. 

The  very  tendency  of  formulated  language  is  to  routine.  The 
foundations  of  the  childish  memory  and  the  childish  principle  of 
association  are  upset,  and  the  natural  observation  of  childhood  en 
tirely  devitalized.  But  an  illustration,  furnished  by  the  same  mas 
ter-hand  that  gave  us  the  Yorkshire  boarding-school,  will  answer 
my  purpose  better. 

No  teacher  before  me,  who  has  read  Dickens'  "  Hard  Times,"  will 
fail  to  recall  the  following  scene : — 

Mr.  Gradgrind,  the  town  magnate  and  school  patron,  is  present  in  the  model 
school  of  his  own  creation,  where  Mr.  McChoakutftchild  surcharges  the  youthful 
Coke-to  wners  with  grim  facts.  A  tier  a  preliminary  address  to  the  teachers  in 
this  vein — 

"Now  what  I  want  is  facts.  Teach  these  boys  and  girls  nothing  but  facts. 
Facts  alone  are  wanted  in  life.  Plant  nothing  else,  and  root  out  everything 
else.  You  can  only  form  the  mind  of  reasoning  animals  upon  facts;  nothing 
else  will  ever  be  of  any  service  to  them.  This  is  the  principle  upon  which  I 
bring  up  my  own  children,  and  this  .8  the  principle  on  which  I  bring  up  these 
children.  Stick  to  facts,  Sir!" 

Having  thus  relieved  himself,  that  his  self-love  may  be  gratified  by  witness 
ing  the  triumphs  of  his  own  educational  scheming,  he  calls  out,  by  an  appropri 
ate  management  and  catechising,  its  distinctive  features. 

Sissy  Jupe,  Girl  No.  20,  the  daughter  of  a  strolling  circus  actor,  whose  life, 
no  small  share  of  it.  has  been  passed  under  the  canvass;  whose  knowledge  of 
horse,  generic  and  specific,  extends  back  as  far  as  memory  reaches;  familiar 
with  the  form  and  food,  the  powers  and  habits  and  everything  relating  to  the 
horse;  knowing  it  through  several  senses;  Sissy  Jupe  h#s  been  asked  to  define 
horse.  Astonished  at  hearing  her  father  stigmatized  as  a  veterinary  surgeon,  a 
farrier  and  horse-breaker ;  bewildered  by  the  striking  want  of  resemblance  be 
tween  the  horse  of  her  own  conceptions  and  the  prescribed  formula  that  repre 
sents  the  animal  in  the  books  of  the  Home  and  Colonial  Society,  she  dares  not 
trust  herself  with  the  confusing  description,  and  shrinks  from  it  in  silence  and 
alarm. 

"Girl  No.  20  unable  to  define  a  horse,"  said  Mr.  Gradgrind.  Girl  No.  20  is 
declared  possessed  of  no  facts  in  reference  to  one  of  the  commonest  of  animals, 
and  appeal  is  made  to  one  red-eyed  Bitzer,  who  knows  horse  practically  only 
as  he  has  seen  a  picture  of  a  horse,  or  as  he  has,  perhaps,  sometimes  safely 
weathered  the  perils  of  a  crowded  street  crossing. 

"Bitzer,"  (said  Thomas  Gradgrind.)  "your  definition  of  a  horse  I" 

"Quadruped.  Graminivorous.  Forty  teeth,  namely:  twenty-four  grinders, 
four  eye  teeth,  and  twelve  incisive.  Sheds  coat  in  the  Spring;  in  marshy  coun- 
-1  teds  hoofs  too.  Hoofs  hard,  but  requiring  to  be  shod  with  iron.  Age 
known  by  marks  in  mouth  "  Thus  (and  much  more)  Bit/.-T. 

"Now  Girl  No.  20,"  said  Mr.  Gradgrind,  "you  know  what  a  horse  is." 

The  features  of  a  school  system  thus  graphically  described  are  the 
features  of  the  Home  and  Colonial  Society's  system,  and  I  regret  to 
BE)  that  what  is  known  in  this  country  as  the  Oswego  System  is  its 
descendant. 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  435 

That  this  is  no  misrepresentation  (see  lessons  on  objects,  page 
97.) 

LESSON  TWENTY-THIRD. 
Jl  Lady  Bird. 

Ideas  to  be  developed — hemispherical,  fragile,  jointed. 

Parts.  Qualities. 

The  head Tt  is  animal. 

eyes Natural. 

feelers  or  palpi Hemispherical. 

horns  or  antennae The  wing  cases  are  red. 

wings Spotted. 

wing  cases  or  elytra. Bright 

thorax Hard. 

legs. The  wing  cases  are  brittle. 

body Opaque. 

back Stiff. 

"    spots The  outside  is  convex. 

"    surface The  inside  is  concave. 

"    claws One  margin  straight. 

The  other  curved. 
The  wings  are  membranaceous, 
pliable, 
thin, 

transparent, 
"  fragile. 

The  body  is  oval, 

black. 

The  legs  are  jointed, 
"  short, 

"  black. 

The  lesson  above  cited  is  one  of  a  large  number  sketched  for  the 
use  of  teachers;  all  models  for  still  others  of  a  similar  character  to 
be  framed  as  they  shall  be  needed,  and  designed  to  cover  the  whole 
period  pf  school  instruction.  Is  such  endless  repetition  of  obvious 
qualities  a  natural  and  nourishing  food  for  the  childish  mind  ?  Will 
it  never  tire  of  such  thin  gruel  of  utilitarianism  ?  And  looking  at 
the  real  object  of  a  public  school  system  as  our  own,  supported  from 
the  public  treasury,  designed  to  obviate  the  accidents  of  birth  or 
fortune,  by  placing  the  keys  of  knowledge  in  every  youthful  hand,  is 
such  chaff  a  substitute  for  a  thorough  grounding  in  the  elementary 
branches  ?  is  it  a  good  preparation,  even,  for  the  same  ?  But  con 
ceding  that  these  exercises  accomplish  the  end  for  which  they 'were 
designed,  is  it  not  a  cultivation  of  the  perceptive  faculties  too  exclu 
sive,  and  at  the  expense  of  the  other  powers  of  the  pupil  ? 

It  is  claimed,  however,  that  thus  are  laid  the  foundations  for  a 
future  structure  of  science ;  that  we  ascend  from  form  to  geometry, 
from  place  to  geography,  <fec.,  (fee.  Than  this  nothing  can  be  more 
mistaken.  Perceptions  of  form  and  color  are  quite  distinct  from 
geometry  and  chromatography.  Language  is  one  thing,  and  the 
science  of  grammai  quite  another. 


486  OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

That  scientific  and  technical  language  is  prematurely  introduced 
in  the  methods  adopted  at  Oswcgo,  no  one  can  question  who  visits 
the  Oswego  schools.  One  hears  little  children,  not  two  weeks  un 
der  instruction,  taught  that  certain  parts  of  a  sheep  (or  the  picture 
of  a  sheep)  are  "principal,"  others  "secondary,"  and  some  "char 
acteristic."  One  hears  from  infant  mouths  such  terms  as  "  grami 
nivorous  and  chalybeate,  iridescent  and  amorphous,  serrated  and  fo- 
liaceous,  imbricated  and  indigenous."  Children  there  are  taught 
not  only  to  discriminate,  with  the  eye,  the  various  shades  and  hues 
of  color,  but  loaded  down  with  such  terms  as  hyaline,  watchet,  -laz- 
uline,  indigene,  carneline,  rosine,  coraline,  venetia,  morone,  salmo- 
nine,  peachine,  and  magenta. 

The  9th  and  last  principle  laid  down  is  the  following: — "First 
synthesis,  then  analysis — not  the  order  of  the  subject,  but  the  order 
of  nature."  I  leave  for  others  to  discuss  the  first  clause  of  the  rule. 
I  may  venture  this  inquiry,  however.  If  it  be  true  "that  all  intelli 
gent  action  whatever  depends  upon  the  discerning  of  distinctions 
among  surrounding  things,"  does  not  this  principle  require  that 
analysis  should  be  the  first  step  in  the  work  of  education  ?  And 
furt Iner,  as  one  examines  the  specimen  lessons  in  the  Oswego  text 
books,  even,  does  it  not  appear  that  so  far  as  the  exercise  of  the 
observing  faculties  is  properly  conducted,  it  is  pure  analysis,  while 
the  mere  framing  of  the  definition  or  the  formulated  summary  can 
only  be  called  synthetical. 

The  last  clause,  ("  not  the  order  of  the  subject,  but  the  order  of 
nature,")  whatever  its  supposed  relation  to  the  former,  contains  an 
important  truth  which  I  would  thus  interpret.  All  subjects  should 
be  presented  to  a  child  in  view  of  the  order  in  which  his  faculties 
arc  developed ;  in  connection  with  his  already  existing  ideas,  as 
they  may  be  indicated  by  the  form  in  which  his  curiosity  mam  tests 
itself,  or  otherwise,  that  they  may  be  retained  by  some  principle  of 
association ;  and  also  in  relation  to  their  practical  value  and  uses, 
as  acquirements  and  discipline,  for  the  time  being.  And  contrari 
wise,  they  should  not  be  presented  in  relation  to  any  assumed  order 
of  knowledge  or  any  scientific  arrangement  or  classification.  (I  am 
speaking  now  especially  of  those  subjects  which,  in  the  primary 
school-room  and  in  the  case  i.fyuung  children,  should  precede  and 
furnish  the  foundation  of  what  are  ordinarily  regarded  as  the  ele 
mentary  studies.)  Scientific  names,  definitions  and  classification  are 
designed  Tor  a  special  and  practical  purpose;  and  that  purpose, 
manifestly,  not  related  to  the  instruction  of  infants  or  the  early  his 
tory  of  our  race.  A  young  child  (and  for  that  matter  the  savage) 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OtJ'ECT  INSTRUCTION.  43*7 

• 

has  no  practical  use  for  science  and  therefore  does  not  need  its 
technicalities.  What  he  does  need  are  words,  figurative  expressions, 
or  a  classification  connected  in  a  living  way  to  his- senses,  his  ob 
servation,  his  experience,  the  range  of  his  reasoning  powers,  and  by 
the  use  of  which  he  can  remember,  reproduce,  or  communicate  to 
another  his  sensations  and  ideas. 

The  scientific  mode  should  be  reserved  for  a  later  period  of  in 
struction,  when  science,  as  such,  has,  by  the  development  of  the 
pupil,  acquired  a  practical  value. 

For  modern  science,  be.  it  remembered,  (and  herein  it  differs*  from 
the  older  forms,)  is,  from  its  very  nature,  far  removed  from  the  range 
of  a  child's  observation,  and  has  no  obvious  relations  to  the  little, 
every-day  world  in  which  he  lives  and  moves.  It  is  based  upon 
structure  and  organs,  and  unobvious,  and  to  the  child,  unimportant 
properties,  and  includes,  what  Spencer  has  called,  "  completeness  of 
prevision."  And  though  there  are  certain  external  features  which 
ordinarily  indicate,  to  the  eye  of  the  expert,  the  peculiarities  of  in 
ternal  structure,'  yet  the  connection  can  not  be  appreciated  at  an 
immature  ao-e. 

O 

So  true  is  this,  that  I  find  a  modern  writer  of  great  logical  acute- 
ness  thus  expressing  himself: — 

Science,  as  I  shall  afterwards  have  occasion  to  illustrate,  is  painful  from  the 
necessity  of  dis  associating  appearances  that  go  naturally  and  easily  together,  of 
renouncing  the  full  and  total  aspect  of  an  object  by  which  it  engages -agreeably 
the  various  senses,  and  of  settling  upon  some  feature  that  has  no  interest  to  the 
common  eye.* 

I  have  ventured  to  elaborate  what  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  truth 
contained  in  the  clause  under  discussion.  But  that  this  is  not  the 
interpretation  of  it  adopted  by  the  advocates  of  the  Oswego  System 
may  be  seen  by  referring  either  to  a  single  model  lesson,  or  to  the 
general  method  of  treating  a  particular  subject.  Take,  by  way  of 
illustration,  almost  the  first  lesson  in  Che  manual.  It  is  a  develop 
ment  exercise  to  cultivate  the  powers  of  observation.  The  children 
are  first  told  that  paper  is  artificial,  that  it  is  made  of  linen  rags, 
that  linen  is  made  from  the  stem  of  a  plant  called  flax.  They  then 
observe  its  obvious  qualities ;  they  are  next  supplied  with  the  terms 
pliable,  translucent,  inflammable,  &c. 

But  one  must  not  atop  upon  individual  lessons,  but  take  subjects. 

What  I  am  now  about  to  say  is  related  also  to  principle  No.  4 — 
"  Reduce  every  subject  to  its  elements." 

Take  the  method  of  teaching  reading.  If  one  takes  up  a  printed 
page  it  may  be  resolved  into  lines,  these  lines  into  words,  the  words 

*  Bain.     "  The  Senses  and  Intellect." 


488  OSWEGO  |YSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

into  letters,  (to  say  nothing  of  points,)  the  letters  into  combination 
of  forms,  that  may  be  further  classified  as  straight  lines  and  curved, 
perpendicular  and  horizontal.  As  related  to  the  printer's  art,  this 
may  be  called  reducing  the  subject  to  Its  elements,  or  following  the 
order  of  the  subject. 

Again,  the  words  on  the  page  (which  is  speech  represented  to  the 
eye)  represent  a  variety  of  combinations  of  sounds,  which  may  be 
resolved  into  their  elementary  sounds ;  these  into  classes  as  atonic, 
sub-tonic,  &G.  ;  and  still  further  according  to  the  position  of  the 
vocal*organs  in  producing  these  elementary  sounds.  This  may  be 
called  reducing  the  subject  to  its  elements,  or  following  its  order. 

If  our  language  were  strictly  phonetic,  these  two  classes  of  ele 
ments  could  be,  in  some  degree,  approximated,  and  thus  the  art  of 
reading,  as  an  art,  could  be  acquired  without  any  great  waste  of 
effort  on  the  part  of  the  learner,  particularly  an  adult  learner.  But 
this  is  not  true.  The  number  of  elementary  characters  does  not 
correspond  to  the  number  of  elementary  sounds.  The  forms  of  the 
characters  have  no  actual  or  symbolic  relation  to  the  sounds. 

Custom  has  also  sanctioned  a  variety  of  form  in  the  same  letters. 
These  have  each  been  provided  with  a  name  conventional  and  arbi 
trary,  sometimes  resembling  its  power  in  composition,  and  some 
times  not. 

Furthermore,  to  increase  the  perplexities,  the  same  sounds  are 
represented  by  different  letters  and  combinations ;  and  these  last  do 
not  uniformly  represent  the  same  sound.  So  that  our  language  is 
irregularity  run  wild.  The  rule  is  the  exception  and  the  exception 
is  the  rule. 

Now  the  method  of  the  Home  and  Colonial  Society  (and  the  Os- 
wego  plan  is  but  little  better)  brings  the  child,  face  to  face,  with  this 
mountain  of  difficulties,  and  on  the  plea  of  reducing  every  subject  to 
its  elements,  picks  np  each  individual  difficulty,  one  at  a  time,  and 
throws  it  a  stumbling-stone  at  the  feet  of  the  pupil.  With  fatigu 
ing  exercise,  perhaps,  the  whole  ground  may  be  at  last  stumbled 
over.  Listen  to  the  role  and  judge. 

The  pupils  are  first  taught  to  distinguish  by  the  eye  all  the  Ro 
man  capitals;  next,  to  di>tiniruish  clumsy  imitations  of  these,  as 
many  as  can  be  formed  by  combinations  of  straight  lines;  and  then 
similar  imitations  of  the  remainder  formed  bv  straight  lines  and 
curved.  A  similar  plan  is  now  adopted  in  teadiiipj:  tlie  forms  of 
the  smaller  letters.  The  pupils  are  practiced  in  repeating  the  forty, 
more  or  less,  elementary  sounds  of  the  language.  They  are  lead  to 
notice  the  position  of  the  organs  of  speech  in  making  these  sounds. 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  459 

At  this  stage  (First  Step — pupils  between  four  and  five  years  of  age) 
they  are  encumbered  with  the  application  of  the  terms,  "tonic,  at 
onic  and  sub-tonic,"  <fec.,  to  the  sounds  in  question. 

They  are  taught  to  form  uncouth  imitations  of  the  spurious  capi 
tals,  before  mentioned,  with  pieces  of  lath;  then  to  print  them  on 
the  slate.  Then  comes  the  learning  of  twenty-six  arbitrary  names 
of  letters  and  connecting  these  with  the  same  number  of  conven 
tional  forms.  The  same  course  is  pursued  with  the  small  letters. 
The  pupils  are  next  exercised  in  the  sounds  of  the  vowels  and  dip- 
thongs;  not,  however,  their  power  in  composition.  They  are 
taught  to  spell  classes  of  words  of  one  syllable.  Only  at  this  point 
do  any  proper  exercises  in-  reading  (or  in  fact  in  learning  to  read) 
begin ;  and  even  then  these  are  in  accordance  with  a  somewhat 
clumsy  phonic  method. 

It  is  claimed  for  this  plan,  the  stupidity  of  which  no  description 
can  fully  portray,  that  it  "puts  the  child  in  possession  of  a  key  by 
which  he  is  able  to  help  himself — a  very  important  principle  in  ed 
ucation."  A  hundred  such  keys  will  leave  a  child  groping  and 
knocking  at  the  door  of  our  written  language,  in  which  the  sound 
too  is  spelt  three  different  ways  and  ough  stands  for  half  its  vowel 
sounds. 

All  this  is  done,  as  it  is  supposed,  to  carry  out  a  principle  as 
cribed  to  Pestalozzi ;  that  the  work  of  the  educator  should  be  ana 
lytical  and  that  of  the  learner  synthetical. 

This  is  what  they  propose  to  do  theoretically.  Meanwhile,  how 
ever,  the  pupil,  in  spite  of  this  attempt  to  hamper  his  feet  with  the 
intricacies  and  perplexities  of  our  language,  has  been  covertly  mak 
ing  his  way  by  a  more  direct,  natural,  and  easy  route  to  the  same 
end.  In  this  respect  the  child  has  shown  himself  wiser  than  the 
master.  By  the  aid  of  a  memory  which  can  only  be  characterized 
as  "  adhesive  "  in  the  extreme,  he  has  been  quietly  learning  words 
as  words,  on  the  blackboard,  on  the  lesson  cards,  and  in  the  text 
book  of  the  school-room.  He  has  been  classifying  words  in  accord 
ance  with  his  own  principle  of  -association,  to  assist  his  memory 
when  its  mere  adhesiveness  has  failed  ;  and  now  noting  their  resem 
blances  and  differences,  he  has  analyzed  them  for  himself  into  their 
elements  and  thus  learned  the  powers  of  letters  in  composition.  In 
short,  he  has  grasped  the  idea  of  the  sole  object  of  learning  to  read, 
and  directed  his  steps  by  the  shortest  route  to  that  end. 

Years  ago  I  read  in  Emerson's  "Schoolmaster"  that  the  best  way 
of  learning  to  read  was  to  let  children  learn  words  first  and  after 
wards  the  letters  of  which  they  are  made ;  and  why  ?  because  "  this 


O8WEGO  SYSTEM  OP  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

is  nature's  method."  I  can  not  stop  to  outline  this  word-method 
by  showing  how  completely  it  follows  the  order  of  nature. 

I  will  cull  your  attention  now,  briefly,  to  the  Oswcgo  method  of 
teaching  drawing.  It  commences  from  combinations  with  two 
straight  lines,  then  with  three,  and  so  on  up  to  seven  or  eight. 
Then  combinations  with  four  right  and  two  acute  angles,  then  with 
obtuse  angles.  Combinations  with  four  rectangular  triangles. 
Combinations  with  the  various  quadrangular  figures.  Then  coinbi- 
nations  with  the  various  curves.  This  is  all  elementary  to  geometri 
cal  drawing.  This  dotibtless  has  its  uses.  This  is  better  than  no 
instruction  in  drawing,  perhaps. 

But  that  this  is  not  the  way  to  teach  drawing  as  an  art,  or  for  the 
practical  and  pleasurable  uses  which  render  its  acquisition  desirable, 
I  think  that  the  great  mass  of  experts  will  agree.  Spencer  speaks 
of  an  elementary  drawing-book,  on  a  similar  plan,  as  most  vicious 
in  principle,  as  only  "  a  grammar  of  form  with  exercises."  Kuskin 
is  equally  emphatic  in  recommending  an  entirely  different  course. 

The  same  regard  to  the  order.of  the  subject  and  disregard  of  the 
order  of  nature  is  seen  in  the  selection  and  arrangement  of  topics 
for  the  object  lessons;  in  the  scientific  tone  that  pervades  the  whole 
series,  and  in  the  early  introduction  of  science  (distinctly)  into  their 
educational  course;  as  if  this  were  unavoidable  in  attempting  to 
impart  any  useful  knowledge  to  the  child. 

The  late  Archbishop  Whately  disposed  of  this  opinion  epigram- 
matically  by  asking,  "  Can  not  a  child  be  taught  that  a  nettle  will 
sting  without  being  taught  the  science  of  botany  ?" 

That  these  are  not  unwarranted  criticisms  on  the  Oswego  methods, 
let  me  appeal  to  the  manuals  in  which  they  are  embodied.  The 
extracts  illustrative  of  methods  may  be  appropriate!}'  introduced  by 
a  few  sentences  selected  either  from  preface  or  introduction,  some 
what  in  the  form  of  precepts. 

"The  design  of  this  work  is  to  present  a  definite  course  of  elementary  instruc 
tion  adapted  to  philosophic  views  of  the  laws  of  childhood." 

"  It  wou'd  seem  too  obvious  to  require  an  argument  that  every  teacher  " — 
(and  for  that  matter,  it  might  have  been  added,  every  superintendent  of  public 
schools  and  each  school-book  compiler)  p' should  clearly  comprehend  the  char 
acter  of  the  infant  mind  and  its  mode  of  operation." 

Tlnit  a  proper  lesson  "should  equally  avoid  detailed  information,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  on  the  other,  mere  general  notices,  such  as  constitute  a  table  of  con 
tents  or  heading  of  a  chapter." 

"That  it  is  important,  as  liir  as  possible,  to  give  the  children  a  good  deal  of 
latitu le;  and  let  the  discoveries  be  their  own,  except  as  they  may  be  guided  in 
part  by  the  teacher." 

"Those  who  fall  into  a  mechanical  way  of  giving  such  instruction  and  do  not 
perceive  the  principle  involved,  completely  defeat  its  intention  and  they  had  far 
better  ket*p  to  old  plans  and  old  tooA^s."  The  italics  are  mine. 

Turn  now  to  "Lessons  on  objects,"  (page  132  and  the  following.) 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OP  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  49 1 

It  is  the  "  fourth  step,"  or  designed  for  children  of  seven  or  eight 
years  old.  The  subject  is  the  metals.  Seven  pages  are  devoted  to 
the  general  subject.  The  mode  of  their  occurrence  is  given ;  their 
distinguishing  "characters;"  their  properties  as  reflectors  of  light 
and  heat,  as  conductors  of  heat  and  electricity.  The  specific  jrrav- 
ity  of  ten  are  given  in  numbers  to  the  third  decimal.  The  weight 
of  a  cubic  foot  of  the  common  metals  is  also  given.  They  are  told 
the  number  of  tons  that  rods  an  inch  square,  of  the  common  metals, 
will  severally  sustain  without  breaking.  Detailed  information  upon 
the  other  general  properties  are  likewise  furnished  by  the  teacher, 
to  an  extent  that  will  suggest  the  thought  that  not  only  is  "  a  good 
deal  of  latitude  given  the  children,"  but  some  degree  of  longitude. 
Then  follow  eight  model  lessons  on  as  many  metals,  in  which  the 
properties,  qualities,  uses,  geographical  and  geological  relationf  are 
given  with  almost  encyclopedic  particularity  ;  though  not  always 
with  the  accuracy  desirable  in  a  text-book. 

We  will  now  open  the  other  manual,  "  Elementary  Instruction." 
As  in  the  former  case,  take  the  "fourth  step,"  the  children  of  the 
same  age  as  before.  Under  the  head  of  "objects,"  (page  134,) 
u  Sketches  on  the  Bible."  In  another  place  it  is  stated  "  that  the 
general  aim  of  the  teacher  in  a  Bible  lesson  is  to  produce  a  relig 
ious  impression."  Let  us  see  how  this  is  done. 

10.      SKETCHES   ON   THE   BIBLE.          "+ 

Having  drawn  from  the  class,  by  a  few  direct  and  simple  questions,  that  the 
Bible  was  not  always  a  printed  book — was  not  first  written  in  EngTsh — was 
not  bestowed  on  mankind  at  once,  complete  from  Genesis  to  Revelation,  but  in 
detached  parts;  and  having  told  them  to  consider  the  successive  portions  in 
which  it  was  given,  the  language  in  which  it  was  first  written,  and  the  form  in 
which  it  then  appeared,  the  children  ought  to  be  in  possession  of  most  of  the 
facts  referred  to;  therefore,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  lessons,  the  business 
of  the  teacher  would  be  to  lead  them  to  collect  and  arrange  what  they  already 
know. 

I.  Scripture — in  what  portions  given,  and  at  what  period. 

1st  Possessors  of  Scripture — the  Hebrew  nation  Not  when  we  first  recog 
nize  it  in  Egypt,  but  previous  to  the  settlement  in  Canaan.  Date  of  this  event. 
At  that  time  the  Israelites  had  the  writings  of  Moses,  p-obably  including  one  or 
two  of  the  Psalms,  and  the  book  of  Job.  Thence  to  the  first  captivity  they  re 
ceived  successively  the  books  of  Joshua,  Judges,  Samuel,  Kings,  Chronicles,  the 
writings  of  David,  those  of  his  son.  a  portion  of  the  greater  and  most  of  the 
lesser  prophets.  After  the  return,  the  narratives  of  Ezra,  Nehemiah  and  Esther, 
with  the  three  last  prophetical  books.  Date  of  the  return. 

2d  Books  of  the  New  Testament  period  Also  considered  with  respect  to 
writers,  titles,  and  oracles.  Date  of  conclusion  of  Scripture.  Text  learned: 
Hebrews  i,  1 — "  God,  who  at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners  spake  in  timea 
past  unto  the  fathers  of  the  prophets,  hath  in  these  last  days  spoken  unto  us  by 
His  Son." 

II.  Language — that  in  which  Scripture  was  first  written — translations. 

1st.  Every  revelation  prior  to  the  date  of  the  first  captivity  made  in  Hebrew 
This  accounted  for.  Books  of  Daniel  and  Ezra  written  partly  in  Hebrew  and 
partly  in  Cha'dee.  Lead  the  class  to  infer  the  probable  reason  of  this,  from  con 
sideration  as  to  the  subject  of  the  portions  written  in  Chaldee ;  principally  such 


492  OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

as  include  original  letters,  decrees,  *c.,  of  the  Babylonish  and  Prnian  poverty 
ments.  Scriptures  posterior  to  the  date  of  the  c.  ptivity  written  in  Chaldee,  and 
all  tlie  earlier  b.>oks  translated  into  the  same  tongue.  No  sooner  did  the  ancient 
Hebrew  become  a  dead  language,  th;,n  the  Scriptures  were  put  into  the  vernacular 
tongue  by  men,  such  as  Ezra,  acting  under  the  immediate  inspiration  of  God. 
Conclusion  drawn  from  this,  and  text  learned,  showing  the  imj  ortance  of  under 
standing  the  Word  of  God:  1  Cor.  xiv,  19 — "I  had  rather  speak  five  words 
with  my  under.-t  nding,  that  by  my  voice  I  might  teach  others  also,  than  ten, 
thousand  words  in  an  unknown  tongue." 

2d.  The  coming  of  the  time  in  which  the  Gentiles  were  to  be  led  to  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  truth,  marked  by  the  dispersion  of  the  Scriptures  among  them. 
Providence  of  God  shown  in  this.  Its  design  and  effect.  Give  general  account 
of  various  translations,  and  particular  one  on  the  Septu;igint.  Refer  to,  and 
prove  the  importance  of,  the  last  translation.  Refer  to  prevalence  of  the  Greek 
tongue  in  every  part  of  the  civilized  world,  as  connected  providentially  with 
the  publication  of  the  Gospel  in  that  language* 

To  connect  this  period  with  what  follows,  touch  very  briefly  on  the  general 
profess.ons  of  Christianity.  Division  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  subsequent 
spread  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  Catholic  churches.  Progress  of  the  latter. 
Extent  of  her  power.  Change  with  respect  to  the  language  of  the  Bible. 
Scripture  written  in  Latin  throughout  all  the  countries  of  the  Western  Empire. 

III.  Forms  under  which  the  Scriptures  have  bten prtsenttd  at  diff.nnt  periods. 
1st.  Derivation  of  the  terms  Bible  and  Scr'pture.     Sacred  words  of  the  Jews' 

writings.  Not  books.  Kind  of  materials  chiefly  used,  either  parchment  or  vel 
lum.  Scroll — when  not  in  use,  rolled  up  on  a  slender  cylinder  like  a  school 
map;  hence,  origin  of  the  term  volume.  Refer  to  the  Scribes.  Their  oflice. 
Importance  and  accuracy  of  their  labors. 

2d.  Describe  sacred  records  of  Christians  in  the  Middle  Ages  Illuminated 
MSS.  What  they  were.  Why  so  called?  Sometimes  rolls,  ofener  books. 
Beauty  and  value  of  these  copies.  The  copyists — what  class  of  men  they  were. 
Their  mode  of  life,  position,  and  character,  compared  with  that  of  the  Jewish 
Scribes. 

3d.  Sacred  records  in  the  modern  form.  Class  observe  their  own  Bibles,  and 
state  how  they  dift'w  externally  from  those  before  described.  Why  composed 
of  many  sheets  bound  together,  not  of  one  rolled  up?  Why  made  of  paper 
rather  than  parchment?  Why  no  longer  MSS.?  Give  brief  account  of  the  in 
vention  of  pr.nting  and  its  immediate  consequence.  The  great  multiplication  of 
copies.  Effect  of  the  distribution  of  these  all  over  the  world.  Specimens  of 
Scriptural  translations  in  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  languages  were  to  be  seen 
at  the  Great  Exhibition.  Compare  God's  present  method  of  mak:ng  known 
Himself  and  His  will,  to  that  He  adoj  ted  in  the  Apostolic  age.  Then,  super 
natural  gift  of  tongues,  enabling  the  Apostles  so  to  preach  that  all  ecftild  un 
derstand.  Why  necessary  then?  Now,  the  same  object  effected  without  a 
miracle,  by  the  translation  of  the  Bible  into  different  languages,  so  that  the  na 
tions  may  still  say,  "  We  do  hear  them  speak  in  our  tongues  the  wonderful 
works  of  God." — Acts  ii,  11. 

IV.  Unrhangeahlene^s  of  the  inspired  word — its  influence. 

Bible  to  be  regarded  as  a  perfect  whole.  The  New  Testament  not  an  abro 
gation,  but  a  development  pf  the  principles  contained  in  the  Old.  Text:  Mat 
thew  v,  17,  18.  This  might  be  proved  by  reference  to  the  nature  of  God,  but 
is  evidently  seen  by  the  invariable  influence  of  the  Scriptures  on  the  condition 
of  man  in  all  ages  and  countries.  Compare  the  mental  and  moral  condition  of 
the  Jews  prior  to  their  first  captivity,  with  that  of  tin-  nations  surrounding  thorn. 
Refer  to  countries  in  which  the  Bible  is  unknown  at  this  day;  without  ei 
ion,  utterly  barbarous  and  degraded.  Refer  to  countries  in  which  its  doctrines 
an-  rejected,  and  yet.  because  the  people  have  learned  something  of  the  histori 
cal  events  recorded  in  it  because  its  precepts  (though  iheir  origin  is  not  recog 
nized)  are  interwoven  w.th  social  laws,  they  take  a  far  higher  rank.  Instance, 
Mohammedans.  Refer  to  countries  in  which  the  Scriptures  are  held  to  be  true, 
and  the  people  do  not  read  them,  because  the  ecclesiastical  power  has  put  a  seal 
on  the  book.  These  are  better  off  than  those  before  named,  lor  they  h 
the  name,  and  know  somewhat  of  the  character  of  Jesus,  and  through  the  thick 
mists  of  tradition  the  light  of  the  Word  will  sometimes  shine. 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION.  493 

Conclusion  drawn — that  the  Bible  is  a  great  engine  of  civilization,  as  well  as 
the  source  of  spiritual  knowledge.  Effect  of  its  free  circulation  thr  ugliout  the 
land.  Refer  to  the  renovat.on  now  commenced  in  heathen  lands,  from  the 
spread  of  Scriptures  and  spiritual  teaching.  Duty  incumbent  on  us  to  place  the 
Bible  in  the  households  of  our  own  and  othe.r  countries.  We  may  anticipate 
the  promised  blessing,  that  they  who  water  others  shall  themselves  be  watered. 

Now  imagine,  if  you  please,  a  teacher  of  a  public  school  standing 
in  the  presence  of  a  class  of  pupils  between  the  ages  of  seven  and 
twelve,  composed  of  such  material  as  will  be  found  in  our  cities  and 
large  towns,  "talking  like  this  book,"  and  tell  me,  will  such  themes, 
thus  presented,  conduce  to  any  feelings  worthy  of  the  name  of  re 
ligious  impressions  ?  Is  such  instruction  in  accordance  with  "  phi 
losophic  views  of  the  laws  of  childhood?"  Do  you  smile  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  extracts  I  have  given  ? — there  is  hardly  a  page  in 
either  of  the  two  volumes  of  Oswego  gospel  but  contains  matter 
equally  ridiculous.  The  fact  is,  this  peculiar  adaptation  of  Pesta- 
lozzianism  could  hardly  be  otherwise,  for  though  fresh  from  an 
American  press,  it  yet  had  its  origin  in  what  may  be  called  the 
dark  ages  of  educational  history  in  England ;  that  is,  some  thirty 
years  ago. 

[There  is  a  difficulty  attending  the  proper  treatment  of  this  sub 
ject.  I  mentioned  at  the  outset  the  considerations  which  made  it 
a  suitable  theme  for  discussion  in  even  a  national  assemblage  of 
teachers.  But  when  one  exposes  the  fallacy  of  any  of  the  princi 
ples,  the  absurdity  ^>f  any  of  the  methods,  up  start  the  advocates  of 
the  system  and  repudiate  the  obnoxious  features,  or  claim  that  these 
are  but  experiments,  looking  towards  something  to  be  perfected  in 
the  alembic  of  the  future.  .  And  when  the  vicious  tendencies  of  the 
system,  as  a  whole,  are  pointed  out,  then  these  same  parties  fall 
back  upon  the  quality  of  their  motives. 

But  the  very  exclusiveness  of  their  theory  forbids  any  hope  of 
improvement  with  the  best  intentions  that  underlie  it. 

They  are  on  record  at  the  very  outset  in  this  wise.  The  system 
as  presented  to  the  American  public  is  claimed  to  embody  "the 
light  and  experience  of  the  best  schools  of  Europe,  where  these 
methods  have  been  longest  and  most  thoroughly  tested."  That  it 
is  "a  definite  course  of  elementary  instruction  adapted  to  philosophic 
views  of  the  laws  of  childhood,"  <fec.,  &c. 

Furthermore,  a  legislative  grant  has  been  obtained,  as  has  been 
already  mentioned,  not  for  experimental  purposes,  looking  towards 
improvement  in  elementary  instruction,  but  to  train  teachers  in  this 
particular  system. 

But  the  time  allotted  will  not  permit  me  to  pass  in  review  other 
features  of  the  so-called  Oswego  System,  equally  objectionable. 


OSWEGO  SYSTEM  OF  OBJECT  INSTRUCTION. 

The  task  I  have  already  performed  would  have  been  a  disagreeable 
one,  even  if,  with  more  time  and  preparation,  I  could  have  flattered 
myself  that  it  had  been  well  done.  It  is  still  more  so,  conscious  as 
I  am*  of  its  imperfectness.  But  it  is  important  that  the  work  of  pri 
mary  instruction  should  be  well  conducted.  And  it  is  claimed  for 
the  Oswego  System,  by  its  advocates,  that  in  no  other  way  can  this 
be  accomplished  than  by  the  methods  prescribed  in  the  books  from 
which  I  have  quoted.  The  State  of  Ne.w  York  has  given  a  legisla 
tive  sanction  to  the  justness  of  this  claim,  by  appropriating  money 
for  the  support  of  a  training  school  for  teachers,  where  these  princi 
ples  and  methods  are  adopted  and  applied.  The  legislatures  of  other 
States  will  doubtless  be  invited  to  follow  this  example. 

I  regard  the  whole  scheme  as  unwise  and  defective.  A  sense  of 
duty  has  therefore  constrained  me  to  call  the  attention  of  the  teach 
ers  of  the  country  to  the  subject,  that  others  more  nearly  related 
to  our  common  school  system,  and  otherwise  more  competent  than 
myself,  may  hereafter  more  thoroughly  expose  its  vicious  tendencies.] 

I  would  not,  even  now,  be  understood  as  discouraging,  in  the 
slighest  degree,  the  addition  to  our  present  modes  of  primary  school 
instruction  of  any  new  or  desirable  features,  or  the  adoption  of  any 
new  methods  to  meet  new  educational  wants,  from  whatever  source 
obtained. 

I  will  venture  to  illustrate  my  idea.  It  was  my  good  fortune  not 
many  months  ago  to  visit,  under  favorable  circumstances,  the  schools 
of  a  western  city.*  I  saw  there  the  evidences  of  a  most  intelligent 
supervision,  by  one  familiar  with  the  whole  subject  of  American  ed 
ucation,  and  who  had  carefully  studied  the  principles  and  methods 
of  instruction  in  other  lands.  I  saw  a  corps  of  teachers,  from  high 
est  to  lowest,  intelligent,  active,  animated  by  a  full  sense  of  the  im 
portance  of  their  work  and  imbued  with  the  same  spirit  that  con 
trolled  the  supervision.  I  saw  the  usual  elementary  course  in  our 
common  schools,  preceded  by,  associated  with,  and  supplemented 
by  well  selected  oral  lessons  that  made  the  whole  a  living  form  of 
education,  ^7icwing  the  pupils  as  individuals,  I  saw  that  a  natural 
and  suitable  aliment  was  so  wisely  spread  before  each  mind  MS  to 
insure  the  proper  grasp  and  growth,  and  as  a  consequence,  mental 
activity  and  strength.  Looking  at  them  as  classes,  I  beheld  each 
grade  of  pupils,  in  the  school-rooms,  responsive  to  every  word  and 
look  arid  thought  of  the  teacher. 


PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL. 

BY  a.    W.   MASON,  PRINCIPAL  OF  HANCOCK  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


So  intimate  and  mutual  is  the  relation  of  mind  with  matter,  the 
mental  with  the  physical,  that  the  one  can  not  be  neglected  without 
detriment  not  only  to  itself,  but  also  dragging  the  other  down  to 
the  same  low  level. 

The  body  is  constantly  influencing  the  mind,  and  the  mind  as  con 
stantly  influencing  and  controlling  the  conditions  of  the  body  ;  hence 
intellectual  and  physical  culture  and  training  should  "  go  hand  in 
hand ; "  if  permitted,  or  by  us  forced  to  go  apart,  either  will  stray 
from  its  appropriate  sphere,  resulting  in  feebleness,  failure,  and  pre 
mature  decay,  and  the  fate  will  be  that  of  a  "  house  divided  against 
itself." 

The  laws  of  nature  will  not,  can  not  be  broken  with  impunity. 
Every  attempt  to  cultivate  the  intellect,  independently  of  its  coor 
dinate  power,  the  body,  must  end,  yea  will  end,  in  an  ignoble  failure, 
or  a  miserable  defeat;  but  when  these  two  powers  so  intimately  by 
the  Almighty  connected,  are  made  to  act  in  unison  and  harmony, 
any  thing  within  the  limits  of  possibility,  may  be  accomplished. 

So  apparent  or  demonstrable  has  been  this  mutual  relation,  that 
thoughtful  men  and  educators,  in  all  ages,  have  studiously  sought  to 
know  how  the  one  can  be  exercised  for  the  greatest  development 
and  vigor  of  the  other. 

The  necessity  of  training  the  powers  of  the  mind  by  due  bodily 
exercise  has  been  acknowledged  in  all  states  of  society,  from  the  most 
primitive  to  the  most  enlightened. 

As  teachers  we  have  committed  to  our  care  and  parental  keeping, 
beings  of  a  material  and  an  immaterial  nature,  not  divorced,  or  by 
us  to  be  divorced  ;  but  they  are,  and  ever  must  be,  mutually  depend 
ent  on  each  other,  and  they  should  be  so  recognized  by  us,  and  prop 
erly  trained  and  developed,  in  order  that  our  pupils  may  grow  up  to 
the  full  stature  of  those  made  in  the  image  of  God. 

.  The  importance  of  systematic,  rigid  physical  training,  is  now  con 
ceded  by  most  educators ;  indeed  so  generally  is  it  acknowledged 


496  PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL. 

that  any  argument  in  its  favor  is  unnecessary  for  the  purpose  of 
arousing  teachers  to  a  proper  sense  of  its  value  as  a  means  of 
culture. 

It  is  apparent  to  the  most  casual  observer,  that  the  Anglo  Amer 
ican  race  has  been  deteriorating  for  a  series  of  years.  \Yhat  teach 
er  especially,  has  failed  to  observe,  how  common  in  the  school-room 
is  the  "  cramped  stooping  posture,"  the  crooked  spine,  the  contract 
ed  chest,  the  dull  languid  eye,  the  pale,  haggard  cheek,  with  its 
bright  hectic,  marking  its  possessor  as  a  sure  victim  of  that  fell  de 
stroyer  of  our  happy  homes,  consumption. 

Conscious  as  we  are  of  the  sad  decay  goin£  on  around  us, 
how  to  remedy  the  evil  and  restore  pristine  vigor  to  the  youth  of 
our  land,  through  the  legitimate  channels  of  instruction,  is  now  in 
teresting  the  leading  educators  of  the  age. 

Within  a  very  short  time  a  wonderful  impulse  has  been  given  to 
the  subject  of  physical  education,  and  the  attention  of  the  wisest 
heads  and  kindest  hearts  has  been  turned  in  this  direction,  till  some 
kind  of  systematic  physical  culture  is  expected,  yea,  demanded  in 
our  public  schools. 

I  trust  the  current  which  has  so  auspiciously  begun  to  flow,  may 
run  stronger  and  deeper,  till  all  teachers  shall  not  only  be  convinced 
that  they  have  been  derelict  in  this  matter,  but  shall  hasten  to 
do  works  meet  for  repentance.  Physical  culture  should  be  promoted 
systematically  and  persistently  till  it  assumes  a  position  in  our  pub 
lic  schools  commensurate  with  its  importance. 

The  particular  form  it  shall  take  or  the  methods  adopted  for  car 
rying  it  out,  will  long  remain  a  matter  of  abstract  and  experimental 
investigation,  each  person  interested,  (and  there  is  no  live  teacher  but 
what  is  or  should  be  interested,)  contributing  something  of  his  experi 
ence  and  thought  toward  the  realization  of  the  grand  object — the 
highest  efficiency  and  well  being  of  mankind,  morally,  intellectually 
and  physically. 

The  expediency  or  practicability  of  introducing  direct  physical 
culture  into  our  schools  by  gymnastic  or  calisthenic  exercises  has 
been,  and  is  still,  doubted. 

The  term,  (lymnastic,  conveys  to  the  minds  of  many,  erroneous 
impivssions.  It  turns  our  school-rooms  into  mere  *rymna>ia,  bring 
ing  with  it  all  the  appliances  of  their  intricate  machinery.  Books, 
slates,  pens  and  pencils,  must  be  exchanged  for  bars,  poles  and 
heavy  weights,  turning  the  activity  of  the  school-room,  induced  by 
an  interest  in  mental  improvement,  into  gladiatorial  shows  and  feats 
of  athletes.  And  it  is  not  strange  that  such  impressions  should 


PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL.  49 f 

obtain,  for  gymnastics  as  practiced  formerly  in  this  country,  have  been 
so  encumbered  with  the  endless  paraphernalia  of  the  system  that 
it  has  been,  and  is  impossible,  to  introduce  them  into  our  schools. 
However  beneficial  they  may  have  been,  but  few  have  been  able  to 
receive  the  benefits  resulting  from  the  system,  and  then  only  by  re 
sorting  to  some  gymnasium,  at  a  great  expense  of  time  and  money. 

So  exclusive  have  been  the  gymnasia  of  this  country  that  a  great 
prejudice  has  existed  against  them,  as  the  resort  only  of  the  low  and 
vulgar,  and  gymnastics  have  been  considered  as  tending  to  produce 
coarseness  of  manners  and  a  combative  disposition,  and  to  raise 
up  a  nation  of  bullies  and  prize  fighters ;  but  this  prejudice  against 
gymnastics,  as  such,  has  been  in  a  great  measure  overcome  by  the 
admirable  system  of  New  Gymnastics,  which  is  so  well  adapted  to 
interest,  please  and  improve  those  who  become  acquainted  with  its 
beautiful  and  simple  machinery,  and  practice  its  symmetrical  move 
ments. 

The  Gymnasium,  under  the  new  regime,  is  now  the  resort  of  the 
refined  and  cultivated.  Much  as  we  may  admire  the  new  system,  it 
never  can  with  all  its  apparatus  be  incorporated  into  our  school  sys 
tem.  Every  practical  teacher  knows  that  there  are  insurmountable 
difficulties  in  introducing  into  our  public  schools  apparatus  of  any 
kind,  except  where  a  room  is  appropriated  especially  to  gymnastic 
purposes,  and  this  we  know  is  not  practicable,  and  even  if  it  were 
practicable,  we  believe  that  free  movements  without  apparatus  of  any 
kind,  stand  preeminently  as  the  best  system  for  our  schools,  indeed, 
as  the  only  system  that  can  be  introduced  with  any  degeec  of  success 
into  the  school-room;  hence  they,  and  they  only,  can  legitimately 
be  called  school  gymnastics,  and  so  happily  are  they  adapted  to 
the  labors  of  the  school-room  that  the  question,  not  only  of  intro 
ducing,  but  of  continuing  them  in  our  schools,  is  no  more  a  matter 
of  doubt  than  that  Arithmetic,  Geography,  or  any  other  essential 
branch  of  education  should  have  its  appropriate  place  in  our  school 
system.  The  use  of  apparatus  of  any  kind  is,  and  ever  will  be,  a 
source  of  annoyance  and  torture  to  the  teacher.  We  are  supplied 
by  one  Creator  with  all  the  apparatus  needed.  "  God  never  made  his 
work  for  man  to  mend."  Wands,  bean-bags,  dumb-bells,  rings  &c., 
must  be  bought,  dropped,  mislaid,  lost  or  broken,  so  that  when  the 
hour  of  exercise  comes  round,  numerous  are  the  excuses  why  this  or  that 
one  can  not  join  the  class,  till  the  teacher  becomes  discouraged,  and 
wishes  he  had  never  attempted  to  introduce  gymnastics  into  his  school, 
and  in  his  haste  condemns  all  physical  exercise ;  while  these  free 
movements  are  always  "  on  hand,"  and  at  a  given  signal  all  are  ready 


498  PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL. 

to  cormnence  without  the  vexatious  delay  of  the  long  preparation  in 
distributing  the  apparatus,  and  the  oft  repeated  "  ready,"  and  with 
music  and  song,  they  constitute  the  very  poetry  of  motion. 

A  series  of  motions,  performed  in  exact  time,  either  with  or  with 
out  music,  each  pupil  knowing  how  many  movements  to  make  with 
a  certain  limb,  the  precise  position  to  take,  when,  where,  and  how 
to  change,  without  dictation  from  the  teacher,  the  transition  from 
one  position  to  another  being  easy  and  natural,  will  be  found  a  most 
agreeable  auxiliary  in  the  school-room. 

The  great  hindrance  to  the  successful  introduction  of  physical  exer 
cises  into  our  schools  has  not  been  from  a  want  of  interest  in  the  sub 
ject,  but  because  we  have  not  the  inclination,  hence  think  we  have 
not  the  time  to  arrange  a  series  of  exercises  which  should  be  both 
pleasant  to  the  spectator,  and  easy,  agreeable,  and  profitable  to  the 
pupil. 

The  first  requisite  for  the  successful  introduction  of  calisthenic 
exercises  into  any  school  is,  that  the  teacher  of  the  school,  (not  a 
special  teacher,)  should  have  a  series  of  movements  arranged  and 
classified.  It  is  folly  for  any  teacher  to  attempt  to  have  pupils  per 
form  any  physical  exercise  with  pleasure  and  profit,  unless  he  has  in 
his  own  mind,  a  well  defined  idea,  just  what  movements  should  be 
made,  and  he  himself  is  able  to  make  the  exact  motions  required. 

We  should  have  faith  in  the  utility  and  practicability  of  any  series 
of  exercises,  as  fitted  to  answer  the  end  desired,  and  then  when  we 
have  become  familiar  with  them,  if  we  are  "  apt  to  teach  "  in  other 
things,  we  are  prepared  to  instruct  our  own  pupils. 

"  If  we  want  any  thing  done  well,  do  it  ourselves."  If  we  don't 
know  how,  let  us  learn  or  leave.  These  exercises  should  not  be  taken 
as  a  mere  pastime,  but  for  the  purpose  of  accomplishing  some 
specific  object ;  yet,  did  I  know,  that  they  had  no  effect  upon  the 
mental,  moral,  or  physical  well  being  of  my  pupils,  I  should  have 
them  practiced  in  rny  school,  for  the  pleasure  they  afford,  and  as  a 
relaxation  from  close  mental  application.  Knowing  as  I  do  the  im 
mense  good,  mental  and  physical,  to  be  derived  from  a  judicious 
practice  of  free  gymnastics  in  the  school-room,  I  would  insist  that 
every  pupil,  unless  disabled,  should  take  some  arranged  series  of  ex 
ercises  daily. 

When  these  free  movements  are  understood  and  comprehended 
by  the  teacher,  they  are  ready  to  be  practiced  at  any  time,  even  in 
the  midst  of  a  recitation,  if  perchance  it  languishes,  on  account  of  in 
attention  or  weariness.  A  few  moments  exercise  will  cause  the  blood 
which  has  on  account  of  close  application  to  study,  been  crowding 


PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL. 


499 


toward  the  brain,  and  causing  stupor,  to  leap  through  the  veins,  pro 
moting  muscular  development,  quickening  respiration  and  circulation, 
and  giving  the  whole  system  life  and  energy.  Joy  reigns,  the  dull  eye 
sparkles  with  delight,  fun  and  frolic  succeed,  and  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  room  is  changed,  and  the  pupil  prepared  to  enter  upon  the 
recitation  with  renewed  vigor. 

It  needs  no  argument  to  prove  that  a  well  arranged  series  of  free 
movements,  persistently  practiced,  will  not  only  be  useful  in  giving 
proper  development  to  the  bodily  powers,  but  they  will  be  equally  effi 
cient  in  developing  mental  activity  by  inducing  habits  of  order,  and 
exactness  in  mental  operations.  Every  position  properly  taken  in 
creases  the  influence  of  the  will  to  move  the  muscle  desired ;  the 
muscle  is  invigorated  and  the  will  strengthened ;  hence  all  motions 
should  be  symmetrical,  uniform,  precise ;  merely  moving  the  limbs 
does  not  constitute  a  gymnastic  exercise. 

There  should  be  a  determination  of  the  mind  how  a  certain  mem 
ber  of  the  body  is  to  be  moved  to  constitute  a  given  position,  and 
the  members  moving  in  obedience  to  the  will,  should  make  the 
predetermined  position. 

To  raise  the  arm  in  a  careless,  heedless  way,  and  let  it  fall  as  care 
lessly,  or  to  thrust  out  the  hand  at  random  without  determining  be 
forehand,  just  where  it  should  stop,  and  how  long  it  should  be  in 
the  transition  from  one  point  to  another,  can  have  but  little  effect 
either  upon  the  mind  or  body ;  but  when  raised  to  a  certain  height, 
with  a  certain  velocity  and  directness,  as  previously  determined  by 
the  will,  this  constitutes  a  gymnastic  position,  and  is  beneficial ; 
hence,  precision  must  be  exacted,  and  "  to  render  any  movement 
definite  and  exact,  a  point  of  departure,  a  point  of  termination,  and 
the  line  through  which  the  body  or  any  of  its  parts  must  pass,  must 
be  clearly  and  precisely  determined,  as  well  as  the  rythm  of  the 
action  itself." 

Never  should  we  leave  a  set  of  exercises  till  the  utmost  uniformity 
and  precision  is  secured  ;  so  much  so,  that  the  pupils  find  actual 
pleasure  in  the  perfect  performance.  "  Whatever  is  worth  doing  at  all 
is  worth  doing  well."  We  soon  become  weary,  yea  disgusted  with 
any  exercise  when  we  are  conscious  we  do  it  imperfectly. 

Short,  active  exercises,  well  done,  will  afford  the  greatest  pleasure, 
and  lay  the  foundation  for  successfully  carrying  out  a  well  developed 
plan,  embracing  variety  and  system. 

A  proper  system  of  school  gymnastics  is  not  confined  to  the  mere 
motions  of  the  limbs,  by  occasional  exercise  in  the  school-room.  It 
is  more  general ;  it  looks  beyond  the  present  out  into  the  illimitable 


500  PHYSICAL  EXKROIBE  IN  SCHOOL. 

future ;  it  endeavors  to  make  man,  as  he  is,  the  noblest  work  of  God, 
rendering  mind  and  body  susceptible  of  all  the  power,  all  the  per 
fection  of  which  they  are  capable.  Its  great  object  and  aim  is  im 
mediate  good,  and  prospective  happiness. 

Nothing  is  more  important,  or  more  conducive  to  the  happiness  and 
health  of  our  pupils,  and  their  progress  in  study,  than  the  ordinary 
positions  of  sitting  and  standing  which  they  assume  in  school,  and 
certainly  no  habits  will  cling  to  them  with  greater  tenacity  in  after  life. 

What  volumes  of  wisdom  in  the  injunction  of  the  wise  man. 
"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he 
will  not  depart  from  it." 

Such  being  the  force  of  habit,  we  ought  to  adopt  such  methods 
of  standing  and  sitting  as  will  insure  for  our  pnpils  elegance  of  man 
ners,  and  grace  and  dignity  of  carriage,  combined  with  the  best 
physical  development. 

Pupils  should  be  required  to  sit  in  a  certain  position,  a  few  min 
utes  at  a  time,  then  change  to  some  other,  the  positions  being  such 
as  are  adapted  to  their  ease  and  comfort,  and  graceful  and  proper 
for  them  to  take  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  instead  of  being  per 
mitted  to  loll  at  pleasure  during  school  hours.  Though  it  may 
seem  a  rigid  plan  thus  to  make  pupils  sit,  they  will  not  only  acqui 
esce  in  the  arrangement,  but  delight  in  it,  on  account  of  the  uniform 
ity  and  beauty ;  and  with  little  effort  on  the  part  of  the  teacher  it 
can  be  secured. 

Great  care  should  be  taken  with  the  standing  and  walking  posi 
tions  of  pupils.  To  walk  on  tip-toe  with  hands  clasped  behind, 
though  quiet  may  be  secured,  the  greater  good  of  comfort  and  health 
is  sacrificed.  It  is  impossible  thus  to  walk  erect;  the  head  is  neces 
sarily  thrown  forward,  the  chest  cramped  and  every  motion  is  un 
natural.  The  habit  of  having  the  arms  folded  in  front  cither  in  sit 
ting  or  standing  is  neither  graceful  nor  healthy.  Let  pupils  sit  erect, 
shoulders  thrown  down  and  back,  arms  hanging  naturally  by  the 
side  or  akimbo,  hands  resting  on  hips.  Let  them  assume  such  at 
titudes  as  will  conduce  to  their  present  comfort  and  future  happi 
ness.  Make  the  child  as  near  as  possible  what  you  would  have  the 
man  or  woman. 

The  man  of  erect  form  and  commanding  presence,  such  as  a 
correct  system  of  gymnastic  free  movements  develops,  is  sure  to 
make  a  more  favorable  impression  in  life  than  one  of  sloping  form, 
rounded  shoulders,  and  sunken  chest.  lie  enjoys  better  health,  pos 
sesses  increased  powers  for  usefulness,  realizes  more  and  more  that 
he,  made  in  the  image  of  God,  has  more  for  which  to  be  grateful 
than  he  who  goes  with  bowed  head  all  his  days. 


PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL.  501 

In  introducing  free  movements  into  our  schools,  we  should  guard 
against  commencing  too  rapidly.  Pupils  are  apt  to  begin  any  phys 
ical  exercise  too  rapidly,  and  accelerate  the  movements  till  they  be 
come  confused,  and  there  is  no  definiteness  in  them.  They  should 
be  so  slow  that  exactness  can  be  secured.  All  motions  of  the 
head  should  be  made  very  slowly  and  with  measured  precision,  else 
dizziness  will  be  induced,  rendering  the  movements  injurious  rather 
than  beneficial. 

Let  the  breathing  be  slow  and  deep,  the  lungs  as  fully  expanded  as 
possible,  especially  when  any  sudden  outside  pressure  is  applied  to 
the  chest.  In  all  exercises,  inhalation  and  exhalation  should  be 
through  the  nose,  the  proper  organ  of  respiration.  "God  breathed 
into  man's  nostrils  the  breath  of  life." 

Do  not  attempt  too  much  at  one  time.  Five  or  ten  minutes  is 
long  enough  ordinarily  for  exercise,  if  properly  done,  and  if  not 
properly  done  one  minute  is  too  long.  If  pupils  have  been  system 
atically  trained  for  any  considerable  time,  they  can  and  will  exercise 
one  hour  with  less  apparent  fatigue  than  at  first,  five  minutes. 

At  first  many  of  the  lads  in  my  school,  were  obliged  to  sit  and 
rest  after  a  few  moments  exercise ;  parents  would  call  requesting  me 
not  to  compel  their  boys  to  exercise,  for  it  made  them  lame,  and 
they  really  thought  I  was  permanently  injuring  their  boys;  and  in 
fact,  the  simple  system  of  free  movements  which  we  had  adopted 
was  made  the  scape-goat  upon  which  was  laid  all  the  aches  and 
pains  which  flesh  was  heir  to ;  yet  with  kind,  judicious  treatment,  it 
has  not  only  survived  the  first  trial,  but  the  very  parents  who  at 
first  condemned  the  movements  are  loudest  now  in  their  praise ;  and 
I.  know  that  for  the  past  three  years  nothing  has  been  more  condu 
cive  to  the  comfort  of  the  teacher  and  the  benefit  of  the  pupils,  than 
gymnastic  exercises. 

I  might  give  many  examples  showing  the  great  benefit  which  has 
accrued  to  my  pupils  since  the  introduction  of  regular  physical  exer 
cises  into  the  school.  One  must  suffice ;  a  lad  who  stood  at  the 
head  of  his  class,  who  had  an  active  mental  organization,  but  a  feeble 
physical  development,  was  told  by  his  worthy  mother,  when  he 
came  to  my  room,  not  to  join  in  the  physical  sports  with  the  other 
boys.  She  could  not,  she  would  not,  have  her  boy  ruined  to  gratify 
any  man's  whims.  I  saw  the  father  and  mother  and  tried  to  reason 
with  them,  endeavored  to  show  them  that  judicious  exercise  was 
just  what  their  son  needed.  No,  it  was  a  hobby  of  mine,  and  I  had 
better  try  the  system  with  my  own  children.  When  I  told  them  it- 
really  did  other  boys  good,  made  them  better  and  happier,  they 


502  PHYSICAL  EXERCISE  IN  SCHOOL. 

replied  that  their  son  was  not  like  other  boys.  These  parents  are  not 
alone  in  the  estimate  of  their  children.  Every  parent  thinks  his  child 
is  an  exception  to  the  general  rule.  These  kind  parents  said 
their  boy  took  no  interest  in  play  at  home,  had  no  desire  to 
play  with  boys  on  the  street,  took  no  delight  in  the  usual  sports  of 
boyhood,  bnt  was  a  sober,  noble,  manly  boy,  caring  most  for  his 
books ;  he  needed  very  tender  care,  our  calisthenic  movements  were 
too  severe.  I  loved  that  boy,  as  I  love  all  my  boys,  and  I  was  deter 
mined,  if  possible  to  save  him  from  an  early  grave.  He  had,  before 
coming  to  my  room,  been  obliged  to  be  absent  much  of  the  time  on 
account  of  his  health,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  unless  he  would  ex 
ercise  with  other  boys  he  could  not  complete  his  school  course ;  I 
believed  the  positions  as  taken  by  others  would  really  be  a  "  move 
ment  cure "  for  him,  and  by  much  persuasion  he  was  allowed  to 
practice  with  the  other  members  of  the  class.  He  soon  showed 
signs  of  improvement,  became  lively  and  happy,  and  during  his  last 
school  year,  never  neglected  to  exercise  with  his  class ;  he  was  not 
tardy  a  moment  nor  absent  a  day  during  the  entire  year,  increased 
his  chest  measurement  more  than  three  inches  during  the  year,  never 
studied  so  hard,  never  recited  so  well,  and  never  was  more  happy, 
than  when,  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm  he  joined  in  physical  sports. 
And  when  that  good  mother  took  me  by  the  hand  as  that  noble, 
lively,  manly  boy  of  hers  left  my  school,  with  the  Franklin  medal 
on  his  neck,  an  honor  to  any  school,  and  a  praise  to  any  teacher, 
she  thanked  me  for  the  interest  I  had  taken  in  her  boy,  and  especi 
ally  was  grateful  because  I  had  compelled  him  to  join  in  onr  gym 
nastic  exercises;  and  but  a  few  days  since  the  father  of  the  lad  told 
me  that  he  stood  at  the  head  of  his  class  in  a  well  known  literary  in 
stitution,  was  a  strong,  healthy  young  man,  and  "  I  attribute  his 
success"  said  he,  "in  a  great  measure  to  those  simple  physical  ex 
ercises  which  I  so  unjustly  condemned." 

I  speak  of  what  I  know,  and  testify  of  what  I  have  seen  when  I 
say  that  scholars  are  better  and  teachers  happier  by  the  daily  prac 
tice  of  free  gymnastics  in  school. 

If  we  as  teachers  take  this  matter  of  physical  exercise  in  school 
into  serious  consideration,  determined  to  cultivate  the  physical  well- 
being  of  our  pupils  as  enthusiastically  and  systematically  as  we  do 
the  intellectual,  we  shall  see  even  in  our  day,  a  better  and  happier, 
because  a  healthier  race,  coming  on  to  the  stage  of  action,  and 
future  generations  will  rise  up  and  call  us  blessed. 


FORMATION   OF   MORAL   CHARACTER 

THE   MAIN   OBJECT   OF   TIIK    PUBLIC   SCHOOL.* 

BY    M.    K.    (JOWDBRY, 

Superintendent  of  Public  Schools  in  Sandusky,  Ohio. 


THERE  is  a  sentiment  of  very  long  standing  with  the  great  public, 
that  book  knowledge  is  the  first  objeet  of  school  instruction,  and 
the  formation  of  character,  if  a  legitimate  object  of  school  life  at  all, 
quite  subordinate  to  the  first.  We  desire  to  have  this  order  in 
verted,  changed  end  for  end  in  the  estimation  of  society,  and  in  the 
labors  of  teachers.  Practically  it  is  so  changed  in  some  cases,  and 
by  some  teachers,  already.  It  is  also  changed  in  the  minds  of  many 
of  the  parents  who  send  to  our  schools — very  possibly  this  may  be 
now  nearly  the  public  sentiment  of  the  city.  But  if  there  is  now 
this  union  of  hearts,  it  is  time  there  was  a  union  of  hands  ;  an  open, 
public  solemnization  of  the  contract.  If  the  formation  of  character 
is  to  stand  first  in  the  order  of  importance,  arid  instruction  in  sci 
ence  second,  and  this  by  common  consent  of  the  people,  teachers 
will  be  relieved  of  some  embarrassment,  and  will  know  more  defi 
nitely  how  to  expend  their  strength  with  their  pupils,  if  the  senti 
ment  is  authoritatively  recognized.  It  would  be  very  easy  to  show 
that  it  is  the  true  doctrine  to  adopt,  but  I  trust  that  before  this  au 
dience  such  a  proposition  needs  no  argument. 

I  have  another  sentiment  to  propose,  which  may  or  may  not  be 
received  with  the  same  unanimity.  It  is,  that  the  right  formation 
of  character  should  be  the  chief  end  of  school  instruction  for  a  child. 
It  is  simply  carrying  the  former  proposition  to  its  logical  conclu 
sions,  and  yet,  stated  in  this  form,  it  may  not  receive  the  full  assent 
of  those  who  have  not  given  the  subject  special  attention.  I  offer  it 
here  this  morning,  however,  not  as  a  mere  speculative  belief,  but  as 
a  practical  question  of  the  gravest  importance  to  the  school  interests 
of  the  city,  and  if  this  is  really  the  right  position  to  be  taken  for 
common  school  instruction,  I  desire  that  the  same  may  be  distinctly 
avowed  and  our  schools  placed  squarely  upon  it  as  early  as  practi 
cable.  I  ask  your  careful  consideration  of  the  following  statements 
and  explanations  regarding  the  proposed  change : — First,  it  is  not 

*  An  Address  to  Teachers  and  Citizens,  Sanduiky,  Ohio,  March  3,  1866. 


504  FORMATION  OF  MORAL  CHARACTER. 

intended  or  believed  iliat  instruction  from  books  will  be  anv  less  in 
quantity  or  quality  than  now.  It  would  be  simply  zeal  without 
knowledge,  to  undertake  to  form  a  child's  character  without  giving 
him  something  to  do.  It  is  the  special  province  of  all  wise  instruc 
tion  to  arouse  the  sluggish  to  activity,  and  then  to  keep  such  and 
all  others  most  diligently  employed.  This,  without  reference  to 
choice,  becomes  a  pure  necessity,  if  the  teacher  would  keep  tempta 
tion  and  wrong-doing  at  a  safe  distance  from  his  pupils.  Next,  it  is 
not  contemplated  that  peculiarities  of  religious  creeds  shall  in  any 
manner  mingle  with  the  proposed  better  formation  of  character. 
While  the  foundation  principles  of  integrity  and  purity  must  be 
drawn  from  the  Scriptures,  and  can  by  no  possibility  be  drawn  from 
any  other  source,  these  may  be  instilled  into  the  hearts  of  children 
without  giving  oifense  to  any  right-minded  parent.  For,  surely,  no 
father  can  desire  to  see  his  son  grow  up  utterly  outside  of  all  the  pre 
cepts  and  influences  of  Christianity,  soon  to  be  shipwrecked,  and  a 
nuisance  to  the  world.  And  if,  in  the  depths  of  his  depravity  and 
hostility  to  revealed  truth,  he  should  so  wish,  is  there  any  good 
reason  why  his  desire  should  be  gratified?  Our  city  authorities  do 
not  allow  a  material  nuisance  to  be  kept,  even  a  few  hours,  on  any 
man's  premises.  Is  there  any  greater  abridgment  of  civil  or  relig 
ious  liberty  in  restraining  a  man  from  turning  a  moral  nuisance  loose 
upon  community,  to  strew  desolation  and  ruin  in  his  path  until  an 
indignant  public  shuts  him  in  prison,  or  death  ends  his  career?  It 
may  be  well  further  to  remark,  that  no  sudden  or  violent  changes 
are  contemplated  in  the  school  instruction,  by  the  adoption  of  the 
principle  proposed.  While  a  change  in  the  direction  of  the  teach 
er's  labor  is  expected  at  some  time  and  to  some  extent,  this  change 
must  be  gradual,  so  that  all  duties  and  labors  shall  harmonize. 

Next,  let  us  thread  out  in  practice  some  of  the  results  of  a  gen 
eral  public  recognition  of  the  doctrine,  that  the  right  formation  of 
character  is  the  chief  end  of  school  instruction.  In  the  administra 
tion  of  school  discipline  teachers  meet  with  cases  of  vicious  conduct, 
sometimes  restricted  to  one  or  two  pupils,  and  sometimes  amount 
ing  to  clanship  and  threatening  to  undermine  the  authority  of  the 
teacher,  or  to  exert  a  demoralizing  influence  upon  the  school,  and 
yet  there  is  such  a  sort  of  surface  civility  that  no  investigation  may 
be  undertaken  or,  if  undertaken,  the  teacher  is  at  once  reminded  by 
the  offenders,  and  probably  by  their  parents,  that  the  teacher's  duty 
in  the  school-room  extends  simply  to  giving  instruction  and  keeping 
order.  It  would  be  some  satisfaction  at  least,  in  such  cases,  that  the 
teacher  should  be  able  to  point  to  well-settled  authority  to  probe  all 


FORMATION  OF  MORAL  CHARACTER  505 

disorderly  conduct  to  the  bottom,  and  when  sullen  and  sympathiz 
ing  witnesses  are  asked  to  give  information,  that  they  shall  not 
evade  the  command  by  any  direct  or  indirect  appeal  to  want  of 
rightful  authority  of  the  teacher  to  demand  his  testimony.  Make 
character  the  chief  end  of  school  instruction,  and  the  rights  and  du 
ties  of  all  parties  become  clear  in  such  cases. 

Again,  let  us  see  how  our  teachers  and  grades  of  schools  would 
stand  in  relation  to  each  other,  under  the  proposed  new  arrange 
ment.  If  the  time  shall  ever  come  when  there  shall  be  any  marked 
success  in  building  up  strength  and  solidity  of  character,  that  work 
must  be  commenced  in  the  primary  school,  and  the  teacher  must 
enter  her  school-room  with  the  clear  and  explicit  understanding  that 
this  is  to  be  the  first  and  chief  end  of  all  her  labors,  and  all.  other 
things  subordinate.  She  must  clearly  understand  that  the  first  great 
work  for  the  child  must  be  done  in  her  school-room.  That  it  will 
be  a  sad  and  sorrowful  task  for  the  teacher  in  the  grade  above,  to 
find  two  years  lost,  far  worse  than  lost,  to  the  child  in  its  moral 
training.  All  this  must  not  only  be  distinctly  understood  as  a  mat 
ter  of  theory,  but  it  must  enter  into  all  her  plans  of  labor  in  the 
school-room,  and  into  all  her  convictions  of  duty  and  usefulness  foi 
this  world.  And  she  must  hold  herself  responsible,  other  teachers 
must  hold  her  responsible,  and  the  public  must  hold  her  responsible, 
that  all  that  the  circumstances  will  allow  her  to  do  for  the  right 
training  of  her  pupils  must  be  done. 

But  how  shall  such  work  be  commenced  ?  First,  it  would  be 
necessary  for  the  teacher,  as  early  and  as  rapidly  as  possible,  to  be 
come  personally  and  intimately  acquainted  with  each  pupil.  The 
family  circumstances  and  the  family  discipline  at  home  should,  as 
far  as  possible,  be  at  once  understood.  Then  the  habits  of  the  child, 
its  health,  its  peculiar  disposition,  its  associates  in  school  and  out  of 
school,  should  be  inquired  into,  so  that,  besides  all  general  methods 
employed  to  make  children  dutiful,  the  teacher  can  treat  each  indi 
vidual  pupil  as  its  case  may  require.  Using  the  general  methods 
now  common  in  our  schools,  for  interesting  all  the  children  in  right 
conduct,  more  frequently,  and  more  faithfully  and  spiritedly,  will  be 
the  first  work  to  be  done.  Very  probably,  in  a  school  of  fifty  schol 
ars,  there  might  be  groups  of  six  to  ten  that  might  need  similar 
words  of  reproof  or  encouragement,  by  themselves ;  and  again,  half 
that  number  might  require  specific  instruction  of  another  sort. 

Lastly,  each  individual  pupil  should  be  a  subject  of  special  study 
by  the  teacher,  for  each  will  probably  need  specific  instruction  of 
some  sort,  if  not  for  any  present  wrong-doing,  then  to  fortify  against 


500  FORMATION  OK  MOKAL  CHARACTER. 

temptation  in  the  future.  But  in  what  shall  the  instruction  con 
sist?  First,  the  child  should  be  taught  unconditional  submission  to 
all  proper  authority ;  and  whether  there  seems  to  be  any  present 
necessity  for  the  lesson  or  not,  it  should  be  so  thoroughly,  so  fre 
quently,  and  so  faithfully  taught,  that  there  never  can  be  any  present 
necessity  for  teaching  it. 

Next,  teach  every  little  child  the  great  law  of  kindness.  Do  not 
be  satisfied  because  you  see  children  so  naturally  kind  to  each  other 
in  their  happy  hours  and  childish  sports.  This  is  only  an  indica 
tion  that  you,  primary  teachers,  have  an  easy  and  delightful  duty 
before  you.  But  just  here,  my  dear  friends,  suffer  me  especially  to 
admonish  you,  that  you  can  not  over-estimate  the  importance — the 
solemnity  rather — of  your  position.  You  must  assume  that  this 
out-gushing  kindness  of  childhood  maybe  matured  into  a  strong, 
over-ruling  principle,  or  it  may  fade  into  uncertain  impulses,  just  as 
you  shall  permit  its  direction  to  run.  You  must  labor  with  your 
pupils  and  for  them,  as  if  deliverance  from  a  life  of  savage  selfish 
ness  and  cruelty  depended  wholly  upon  your  exertions.  Do  not  let 
an  unkind  word  be  uttered  in  your  school-room  or  on  your  play 
grounds;  watch,  and  treat  appropriately,  all  angry  looks,  and  while, 
negatively,  you  are  suppressing  every  thing  contrary  to  the  law  of 
love,  do  all  you  can  positively  to  inculcate  it;  suggest  to  them  little 
modes  of  really  doing  kind  things  to  each  other.  And  do  not  grow 
weary  in  doing  this.  Keep  doing  yourself,  and  keep  your  children 
doing.  Never,  for  a  moment,  suppose  that  your  work  is  an  insig 
nificant  one.  You  are  teaching  a  great  law,  the  law  of  love,  the  law 
of  Heaven ;  joyfully  and  lovingly  should  you  do  this  noble  work. 

Still  farther  on,  teach  children  kindness  to  the  unfortunate,  to  the 
stranger,  to  animals,  in  brief  on  this  point,  get  as  much  of  heaven 
ujxm  earth  into  your  school-rooms  as  you  possibly  can.  And  there 
is  perfect  truthfulness,  and  perfect  honesty,  and  heroic  courage  to 
do  right,  to  be  instilled  thoroughly  into  these  little  minds.  And 
then  there  are  some  ugly  wild  beasts  at  your  door  to  be  watched, 
lest  they  devour  your  tender  lambs — such  as  profanity  and  vulgar 
ity.  For  character  is  first  in  favor  now,  character  is  to  be  "king" 
henceforth,  you  remember,  and  nothing  that  would  harm  or  mar  its 
beauty  must  be  allowed  to  enter.  These  miniature  men  and  women 
must  soon  go  from  your  instruction  to  the  next  teacher  above,  and, 
still  retaining  their  artlcssness  and  innocence,  you  must  pass  them 
up,  perfect  little  patterns  of  propriety,  perfect  little  heroes  for  the 
truth  and  for  right. 

This  is  a  slight  sketch  of  the  change  of  labor  and  relations  for  a 


FORMATION  OF  MORAL  CHARACTER.  5Qf 

single  grade.  It  would,  of  course,  be  understood  that  the  successive 
grades  above  should  be  responsible,  first,  for  securely  retaining  all 
that  had  been  acquired  through  such  watchfulness  and  faithfulness, 
in  the  school  below.  And  here  grave  responsibilities  open  upon  us. 
For,  with  each  ascending  grade,  the  advancing  age  of  the  pupil  re 
quires  a  new  exertion  of  restraining  and  controlling  power  to  hold 
him  steadfastly  in  the  paths  of  uprightness.  And  if  this  is  not  done, 
what  shall  be  said  of  the  teacher  or  grade  where  the  failure  was 
made  ?  If,  after  the  work  in  the  lower  grades  had  been  faithfully, 
skillfully,  nobly  done,  such  a  calamity  should  occur  midway  between 
the  Primary  and  High  School,  what  a  shock  would  thereby  be  given 
to  our  system  !  What  breaking  of  arteries  or  snapping  of  nerves 
would  produce  such  a  sensation  ?  How  could  society  be  compen 
sated  for  such  losses?  How  could  the  teachers  of  the  grades  below 
find  consolation  for  their  lost  labor  and  treasures  ?  When  the 
schools  below  fail  to  give  each  their  proper  quantity  and  quality  of 
instruction  in  the  sciences,  the  schools  above  are  seriously  and  un 
justly  embarrassed  by  the  culpable  neglect.  But  what  shall  be 
thought  of  offering  to  the  higher  grades  damaged  characters  and 
corrupting  influences?  And  if  the  grand  failure  should  occur  at  the 
High  School — if,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  system,  it  should  have 
low  conceptions  of  its  position  or  its  duties,  or,  still  further,  knowing 
its  responsibilities,  it  should  fail  to  meet  them,  and  the  good  princi 
ples  which  had  been  so  assiduously,  so  tenderly,  through  long  years, 
so  faithfully  inwrought,  be  there  dissipated,  scattered  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven,  how  should  the  loss  be  estimated?  If  it  were  the 
sentiment  of  our  people,  that  the  crowning  excellence  of  our  free 
public  school  system  was  to  prepare  noble  men  and  women  for  our 
country  and  the  world,  how  keenly  would  the  disappointment  be 
felt  if  there  should  be  found  want  of  skill,  want  of  profound  sense 
of  obligation, — want  of  complete  and  triumphant  success  in  the  par 
ticular  department  where  all  these  qualities  were  demanded  in  the 
highest  perfection ! 

I  have  hastily  glanced  at  a  few  points  of  advantage  and  changes 
of  relations  among  our  school  grades  and  teachers,  which  the  pro 
posed  end  of  school  instruction  would  involve.  There  are  also  some 
other  important  relations  to  be  stated,  some  other  advantages  to  be 
gained,  and  also  some  further  objections  to  be  met.  The  more  full 
discussion  of  these  topics  may  be  given  when  it  shall  seem  to  be 
demanded. 

It  will  be  seen  that  I  am  now  seeking  a  new  contract,  or  rather 
new  conditions  to  a  former  contract,  between  teachers  and  the  public. 


508  FORMATION  OF  MOKA1.  CHARACTER. 

To  be  binding  as  an  agreement  they  must,  of  course,  receive  the 
assent  of  both  parties.  I  have  no  authority  for  saying  that  they 
will  be  entirely  acceptable  to  either.  1  suspect  teachers  will  feel  a 
reluctance  to  assume  such  new  responsibilities,  not  from  any  want 
of  right  disposition,  but  from  the  real  magnitude  of  the  undertaking, 
and  from  a  painful  consciousness  of  want  of  the  necessary  prepara 
tion  and  power  to  do  such  work.  Truly,  teachers,  the  right  forma 
tion  of  character  for  tins  generation  of  the  children  of  our  city  is  an 
enterprise  full  of  difficulties  and  discouragements,  and  you  must 
have  power,  directing,  controlling  power,  or  you  can  do  nothing  of 
this  labor.  If  you  are  to  stand  by  the  side  of  the  parent,  in  place 
of  the  jxirentj  often  even  above  the  parent,  in  the  education  of  his 
children,  you  must  have  first  the  power  which  genuine  affection 
gives.  Children  delight  in  an  atmosphere  of  affection.  They  would 
instinctively  exchange  houses  of  marble  for  cabins  of  logs  or  clay, 
to  dwell  with  hearts  as  gentle  and  loving  as  their  own.  Sparkling 
gems,  or  the  richest  attire,  would  be  worthless  to  them  as  pebbles 
or  rags,  if  counted  against  a  mother's,  or  sister's,  or  brother's  love. 
It  is  fixed  in  the  deep  counsels  of  Infinite  Wisdom,  that  children 
shall  be  led  by  affection,  be  taught  early  obedience  to  duty,  not 
through  reasoning  faculties,  just  feebly  dawning,  but  through  the 
affections  now  glowing  in  full  sunlight,  and  there  must  be  no  thought 
of  evasion  of  this  divine  law.  Teachers,  as  well  as  parents,  then, 
must  love  children.  But  surely,  every  body  must  love,  or  can  learn 
to  love,  little  children.  And  in  loving  them  wisely  and  well,  we  may 
fashion  their  hearts,  and  habits,  and  tempers  after  any  model  we 
will.  Within  certain  limits,  and  for  certain  ends,  knowledge  is  power 
to  the  teacher  in  forming  character,  as  well  as  developing  the  intel 
lect.  If  you  need  more  of  such  power,  the  world  of  science  and  the 
whole  field  of  history  are  open  to  you.  Take  as  much  as  you  need 
or  as  you  please. 

Again,  right  is  might,  truth  is  might,  and  the  soft-haired  boy,  as 
well  as  the  gray-haired  man,  must  bow  to  their  power.  Teach  the 
child  or  the  young  man  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  golden  rule ; 
bury  deep  in  his  heart  the  great  principle  of  love  to  God  and  love 
to  man,  and  a  power  mightier  than  the  silent  forces  of  creation  con 
tinually  operates  to  ameliorate  his  nature  and  guide  his  wayward 
steps.  Explain,  patiently  and  gently,  how  the  Eternal  Father  loves 
and  approves  thoughts  and  deeds  of  kindness,  even  in  children,  and 
teach  him,  by  skillful  modes  of  illustration,  how  lie  hates,  with  an 
infinite,  eternal  hatred,  all  forms  of  oppression,  and  no  future  argu 
ments,  however  crafty  or  profound,  can  dislodge  this  conviction  from 


FORMATION  OF  MORAL  CHARACTER.  509 

his  heart.  Bring  to  his  full  comprehension,  often  and  faithfully, 
the  truth,  that  for  all  his  wrong-doing,  both  open  and  secret,  con 
science  will  be  a  swift  witness  of  his  guilt,  and  for  all  this  guilt  there 
must  be  accountability,  and  you  throw  around  him  a  restraining 
power  such  as  no  human  wisdom  can  devise.  For  truth  is  mighty, 
far  mightier  than  all  other  instrumentalities  that  mortals  are  permit 
ted  to  wield,  and  in  its  judicious  employment  we  may  proceed  with 
the  same  confidence  in  laying  the  foundations  of  character  that  wo 
look  for  mental  development  to  follow  mental  exertion,  or  the  sea 
sons  to  go  and  return,  or  the  green  herbage  to  spring  up  under  the 
genial  sunshine. 

Again,  purity,  personal  purity  of  heart  and  life,  is  power — power 
perhaps  slightly  understood  and  appreciated  in  this  life,  yet  ever  si 
lently,  under  Providence,  working  out  the  grandest  and  noblest  re 
sults.  Faith,  true  Christian  faith,  is  power,  giving  to  the  little  child 
or  the  feeble  invalid  a  might  which  the  strongest  intellect  may  not 
possess.  And  still  further,  daily  communion  with  the  Source  of  all 
Power  imparts  to  the  feeblest  intellect  attributes  of  sovereignty. 
How  often,  by  this  means,  does  the  humblest  mortal  "  move  the 
hand  that  rules  the  world !"  How  seeming  impossibilities  become 
pleasant  pastimes  under  the  friendly  direction  of  an  omnipotent 
guide !  How,  by  communion  with  the  High  and  Holy  One,  have 
the  weak  surpassed  the  wise  in  wisdom,  or  the  keenest  trials  ended 
in  songs  of  triumph  !  That  slave-prince,  Joseph,  was  mightier  than 
all  the  monarchs  of  Egypt,  because  he  was  in  habitual  communion 
with  the  Sovereign  of  all  Sovereigns ;  because  the  Eternal  Jehovah 
was  his  daily  refuge,  and  underneath  him  were  the  Everlasting  Arms. 
There  was  no  "  smell  of  fire  "  on  the  garments  of  those  three  Jewish 
captives  who  were  thrown  into  the  "  burning  fiery  furnace,"  because 
the  "  form  of  the  Fourth"  was  there,  and  the  "form  of  the  Fourth  " 
was  there  because  His  infinite  power  and  loving  presence  had  been 
invoked  for  this  hour  of  terrible  ordeal. 

Self-denial  is  power.  Self-sacrificing  affection  is  power — power 
in  the  lowliest  stations  of  life,  and  power  in  the  most  exalted,  power 
at  the  humblest  fireside,  and  power  among  the  nations  of  the  earth. 
Observe  how  it  gives  the  mother  her  irresistible  influence  and  her 
imperishable  memory  in  the  family  circle.  How  it  gives  the  mis 
sionary  respect  and  kind  regards  among  brutalized  and  depraved 
tribes  of  men  all  unused  to  words  of  kindness.  How  it  every  where 
subdues  the  coarsest  natures  and  chastens  and  refines  the  gentlest 
hearts.  Self -sacrificing  affection!  What  enmity  or  depravity  can 
it  not  conquer  ?  How  surely,  in  God's  good  time,  it  must  change 


510  FORMATION  OF  MORAL  CHARACTER. 

the  face  of  the  world  ?  How  its  brightest  manifestation  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago  shines  clearer  and  stronger  through  the  lapse  of 
centuries !  How  an  innocent,  unresisting  personage,  by  suffering  a 
death  of  terrible  anguish,  singly  for  the  good  of  others,  has 
awakened  emotions  never  before  excited  in  this  world,  and  con 
strained  allegiance  to  which  earth  and  time  can  fix  no  bounds. 

But  humility  too  is  power,  patience  is  power — wonderful  power 
to  the  teacher.  In  short,  every  Christian  grace  and  virtue  is  power. 
Be  a  thoroughly  yood  man  or  a  yood  woman  and  your  whole  life 
shall  be  a  life  of  power.  Your  words,  your  examples,  your  teach 
ings,  shall  be  powerful  for  good.  And  if  to  Christian  virtues  and 
graces  you  add  an  earnest  purpose  to  fashion  youthful  character 
after  celestial  models,  your  efforts  can  by  no  possibility  be  in  vain. 

If,  after  proper  consultation  and  reflection,  our  citizens  decide  to 
charge  you  with  the  duty  of  laying  the  foundations  of  integrity  and 
uprightness  more  deeply  and  strongly  with  the  children  than  here 
tofore,  do  not,  my  dear  friends,  shrink  from  the  work  on  account  of 
its  difficulties  or  its  magnitude.  Modestly,  hopefully,  accept  the 
trust.  Take  these  children,  all  of  them,  the  rich  man's  and  the  poor 
man's,  lovingly  to  your  hearts,  and  train  them  for  Ood  and  our 
country.  The  end  of  the  labor  you  nor  I  mav  ever  live  to  see.  The 
beginning  only  is  for  us  and  in  prayerfully  and  pereeveringly  begin 
ning  it  you  shall  find  "strength  equal  to  your  day."  With  an  ear 
nest  purpose  to  be  successful,  you  shall  find  difficulties  vanish  before 
you  like  mists  before  the  morning  sunshine.  My  sister,  my  brother, 
you  shall  not  meet  these  solemn  responsibilities  single-handed  and 
alone.  You  shall  not  give  your  manly  strength,  nor  your  health 
and  womanly  grace  and  beauty,  to  this  great  public  service,  while 
others  may  revel  in  freedom  and  sunshine,  without  a  full  equivalent. 
Good  men  and  women  will  sympathize  with  you  and  encourage  you. 
Fathers  and  mothers  will  bless  you.  Children,  many  children,  shall 
love  and  honor  you.  Angelic  spirits  shall  look  lovingly,  joyfully, 
upon  your  labors,  from  the  abodes  above.  The  blessed  Redeemer 
shall  be  ever  at  your  side — nearer  than  all  earthly  friends.  The 
Infinite  Father  himself  shall  shower  his  blessings  upon  you,  and 
hereafter,  in  the  presence  of  the  countless  millions  who  shall  stand 
before  Him,  he  shall  say  to  each  of  you,  "  Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant,  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  the  Lord." 


DR.  HENRY   BARNARD'S 
STANDARD  EDUCATIONAL  PUBLICATIONS. 


OKKICIAL  RETORTS — as  Superintendent  of  Common  Schools  in  Connecticut,  1  vol.;  as  Commis 
sioner  of  Public  Schools,  R.  I.,  1  vol.;  as  National  Commissioner  of  Education,  3  vols.  $4.50 
per  volume, 

CONNECTICUT  COMMON  SCHOOL  JOURNAL,  1838-42,  4  vols.     $4.00.     Second  Scries,  1851-54. 

JOURNAL  OF  R.  I.  INSTITUTE  OK  INSTRUCTION,  1845-48,  3  vols.    $3.75. 

THE  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OK  EDUCATION— from  1856  to  1873.  24  Volumes  (over  20,000 
octiivo  pages),  with  800  wood  cuts  of  structures  for  educational  purposes,  and  125  portraits 
of  eminent  educators  and  teachers.  Price,  $  120  in  cloth ;  $132  in  half  goat ;  Single 
Volume  in  cloth  $5.00,  in  half  goat  $5.50  ;  Current  Volume  in  numbers  (lS15-(j— International 
Series,  Vol.  I.),  $4.00.  Single  number,  $1.25. 
The  International  Series  will  complete  the  publication  as  projected  by  the  Editor  in  1850 

Mini  will  embrace  the  Treatises   (1    and    2)    in    the   Plan   submitted   by   him   to   the   American 

Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Education  in   1854  on  the 
HISTORY  OK  EDUCATION:  or  the  Progressive  Development  of  Schools  of  different  kinds  and 

grades,  and  other  Formal   Agencies  of  Instruction   for  children,  youths,  and  adults  in  different 

countries,  with  a  General  Survey  of  National  Systems  in  1870-7. 

&y~  The,  following  Treatises  were  originally  published  as  separate  chapter.*  in  the  JJmcricaji 

Journal  of  Education,  but  were  prepared  with  special  reference  to  being   ultimately  issued  in 

the  form  in  which  they  now  appear.     1876. 

NATIONAL  EDUCATION  :  GENERAL  AND  SPECIAL.     10  Volumes. 

1.  Elementary   and   Secondary  Instruction  in  the  German    States:    A nhalt,  Austria,  Bmlen 
Bavarin,   Brunswick,    Hanover,   Hesse-Cassel,    Hesse-Darmstadt,  Liechtenstein,    Lippe-Petmold, 
fjippe-Schnumberg,   Luxemburg     and    Limberg,    Mecklenbiirg-Schwerin,    Mecklenluirg-Strelit/., 
Nassau,    Oldenburg,   Prussia,   Renss,   Saxony,    Saxe-Altenburg,  Saxe  Coburg,    Saxe-Meiningen, 
Saxe-Weimar,  Waldeck,  Wurtemberg,  and  the  Free  Cities,  with    a  general  summary  of  the  Edu 
cational  Systems  and  Statistics  for  the  whole  of  Germany,  1871.     85G  pages.     Price  $5.50. 

2.  Elementary  and  Secondary  Instruction    in  Switzerland  (each  of  the  23  Cantons),  France, 
Belgium,  Holland,  Denmark,  Norway  and  Sweden,   Russia,  Turkey,  Greece,  Italy.  Portugal  and 
Spain,  1872.     800  pages.     Price  $5.50.    Revised  Edition.     1876. 

3.  Contributions  to  the  History  and  Statistics  of  Commoner  Public  Schools  (Elementary  and 
High),  Academics,  Colleges,  and  Professional  Schools  in  the  United  States,  and  other  American 
Suites.    900  pages.     Price,  $5.50. 

4.  Elementary,  Secondary,  and  Superior  Instruction  in  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  and 
the  different  dependencies  of  Great  Britain.     Two  Parts — $3.50  each. 

(J.)  Elementary,  Parochial,  and  National  Schools,  including  Training  Colleges,  and  Industrial 
and  Reformatory  Institutions,  with  the  views  of  Practical  Teachers  on  the  Subjects  and 
Methods  of  Primary  Instruction. 

(2.)  Grammar,  Burgh,  and  Endowed  Schools,  and  the  Universites  of  Oxford,  Cambridge,  Lon 
don,  Durham,  St.  Andrews,  Aberdeen,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh,  Dublin,  and  Queen's;  with  the 
views  of  eminent  authorities  on  Higher  Studies. 

5.  Superior   Instruction  in  Different    Countries. — Ancient  Greece,    Rome,  and  Alexandria  ; 
Early  Christian  Schools  ;  Medieval  Universities  ;  and  Systems  and  Institutions  of  Higher  Educa 
tion  in  European  and  American  States,  1876.     960  pages.     $5.50. 

6.  Scientific  and  Industrial  Education   in   Austria,  Baden,  Bavaria,  Brunswick,  Free  Cities, 
Hanover,  Nassau,  Prussia,  Saxony,  Saxon  Principalities,  Wurtemberg,  France,  Belgium,  Holland, 
Denmark,  Norway,  Sweden,  Russia,  Switzerland,  Italy.    800  pages.     Price  $5.50. 

1.  Special  Instruction  in  Science  and  the  Arts  in  Oreat  Britain.    256  pages.     $3.00. 

8.  Schools   and   Colleges   of  Science,  Agriculture,   and   the   Mechanic   Arts   in   the  United 
State*.    In  press.    $3  00.     Revised  Edition.    1876. 

9.  Military   and  JVara/  Schools  in  France,  Prussia,  Bavaria,  Italy,  Russia,  Holland,  England, 
and  the  United  States.     960  pages.     $6.00. 

10.  Professional   Training  and  Improvement  in   (1.)  Teaching ;    (2.)  Theology ;    (3.)  Law 
(4.)  Medicine,  &c.,  in  Different  Countries.    850  pages.     $5.50.     Revised  Edition.     1876. 


BARNARD'S  NATIONAL  »EDAGOGY. 

AND 

LIBRARY  OF  PRACTICAL  EDUCATION. 

BOOKS  FOK  PARENTS,  TEACHERS,  SCHOOL  OFFICERS,  AND  STUDENTS. 


NATIONAL  PEDAGOGY  AND  LIBRARY  or  PRACTICAL  EDUCATION: 

1.  STUDIES  AND  CONDUCT  :  Letters,  Essays,  and  Suggestions  on  the  Relative  Value  of  Studies, 
Books  and  the  best   Methods  of  Reading,  Manners  and   the   Art  of  Conversation,  the  Acquisi 
tion  and  True  Uses  of  Wealth,  and  the  Conduct  of  Life  generally.     564  pages.     $3.50.     1875. 

The  best  evidence  of  the  intrinsic  value  of  these  I  .otters,  Suggestions,  and  Essays,  is  in 
the  names  of  their  authors — Addison,  Aiken,  Bncon,  Harrow,  Bodleigh,  Brougham,  Burleigh, 
Bulwer,  Burns,  Carlyle,  Chnmiing,  Chatham,  Chesterfield,  Collingwood,  DeQimicey,  Duiwnlniip, 
Everett,  Faraday,  Franklin.  Froude,  Gladstone,  Grimke,  Hall,  Hamilton,  Herschel,  Hninliol.lt, 
Huxley,  Jameson,  Jerome,  Locke,  Lowe,  Macaulay,  Mackintosh,  Mill,  Milton,  More,  Nielmhr, 
Newman,  Pitt,  Po|>e,  Potter,  Raumer,  Sidney,  Southey,  South,  Swift,  Taylor,  Temple,  Tvndal, 
Whately,  Wordsworth,  and  others. 

2.  PRIMARY  SCHOOLS   AND  ELKMKNTARY  INSTRUCTION:  Object  Teaching  and  Ornl  Lessons 
on  Social  Science  and  Common  Things,  with  the  Principles  and  Practice  of  Elementary  Instruction 
in  the  Primary,  Model,  and  Training  Schools  of  Great  Britain.     Revised  Kdition.—  544  pp.  $3.00. 

Ashburton,  Barnard  (Sketch  of  Systems  of  Public  Elementary  Schools  in  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland),  Bell,  Brougham,  Currie,  Dunn,  Ellis,  Hay,  Keenan,  Knight,  Lancaster,  Macaulay. 
Mayo,  Morrison,  Ross,  Shields,  Stow,  Sullivan,  Tainsh,  Wilderspin,  Young. 

3.  KM;  i  i  MI  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW  :  or,  Treatises  and  Thoughts  on  Education,  the  School, 
and  the  Teacher.     First  Series.     4*0  pages.     Second  Series.     608  pages.     $3.50  each.     1876. 

Mr.it  Series.— Aschain,  Bacon,  Cowley,  Cowjier,  Crabbe,  Coleridge,  Fuller,  Gray,  Ilartlib,  Hood, 
l.o.-kf.  Milton,  Petty,  Shenstone,  Sjiencer,  Whately,  Wotton. 

Second  Seric*.— Arnold,  Brinsly,  Calderwood,  Colet,  Collis,  Coote,  Defoe,  Donaldson,  Duff, 
Elvot,  Evelyn,  Goldsmith,  Hoole,  Johnson,  Jolly,  Lyttleton,  Macaulay,  Mulcaster,  Parker,  Parr 
Payne,  Po|>e,  Quick,  Smith,  South,  Southey,  Steele,  Strype,  Todhunter,  Wase,  Webster,  Wolsey. 

4.  AMERICAN  PEDAGOGY:   Contributions    to    the    Principles  and  Methods   of  Educntion,  by 
Barnard,  Burgess,   Bushnell,  dimming,  Cowdery,    Dickinson,  Doane,   Everett,  Fairrhild,  Hart, 
Hopkins,  Hiintington,  Mann,  Pnge,  Philbrick,   Pierce,  Potter,  Sheldon,   Wayland,  and   Wilbur, 
FIRST  SKRIKS.     Revised  Kd.    576  pages.     $3.50. 

5.  GKRMAN  PEDAGOGY  :  Views  of  German  Educators  and  Teachers  on  the  Principles  of  Educa 
tion,    and    Methods    of  Instruction    for    Schools   of   different   Grades.     Revised    Kdition.     640 
pages.   $3.50.    1876.    Ablwmrode,  Benneke,  Dicsterweg,  Fichte,  Frocbel,  Ga-the,  Gniser,  Hentschel 
Ih'iicomp,  Herbart,  Hentz,  Jacobs,  Meicrotlo,  Raumer,  Riecke,  Rosenkranz,  Ruthnrdt.  Wichern. 

6.  PESTALOKZI    AND   Swiss  PEDAGOGY  :  Memoir,  and  Educational  Principles,  Method*,  and 
Influence  of  John  Henry  Pestalozzi,  and   Biograpical  Sketches  of  several  of  his  Assistants  and 
Disciples:  together  with  Selections  from  his  Publications,  and  accounts  of  Schools  und  Teachers 
in  Switzerland.     Revised  Edition.     656  pages.  $3.50. 

7.  GERMAN  TKACHKRS  AND  EDUCATIONAL  REFORMERS  :  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Teachers  and 
Educators  with  contributions  to  the  History  of  Education  in  Germany.     1876.    586  pages.    $3.50. 

Early  Christian  Teachers,  Basedow,  Comenius,  Erasmus,  Franke,  Hieronyminns,  Luther,  Mclauc- 
thon,  Rutich,  Sturm,  Trotzendorf,  Felbiger,  Kindermann,  Frederic  II.,  Maria  Theresa,  etc. 

8.  FRENCH  TEACHERS,  SCHOOLS,  AND  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW.    648  pages.    $3.50. 
Early  Christian  Teachers  and  Schools;  Jesuits,  Christian  Brothers  and  other  Teaching  Orders  ; 

Rabelais,  Rainus,  Montaigne,  Port  Royalists,  Fenelon,  Rollin,  Montesquieu,  Rousseau;  Talley 
rand,  Condorcet,  Daunau,  Napoleon;  Oberlin,  Cuvier,  Cousin,  Guizot,  Ravaisson,  Remasct, 
Marcel,  Duruy,  LeVerrier,  Dupanloup,  Mayer,  Marl>eau,  Wilm,  and  others. 

9.  ENGLIHII    TEACHERH,  EDUCATORS,  AND  PROMOTERS  or  EDUCATION.    556  pages.   $3.50. 

10.  AMERICAN  TEACHERS,  EDUCATORS,  AND  BENEFACTORS  or    EDUCATION,    with   130 
Portraits.    5  vols.    $3.50  per  volume. 

11.  AMERICAN  GRADED  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS,  with  Plans  of  School-houses  and  Equipment  and 
Regulations  for  Schools  in  Cities.     556  pages.    $3.50. 

12.  APHORISMS   AND  SUGGESTIONS  ON   EDUCATION   AND   METHODS  .or    INSTRUCTION — 
Ancient  and  Modern.     $3.00. 

13.  SCHOOL  CODES.— Constitutional  Provisions  respecting  Education,  State  School  Codes,  and 
City  School  Regulations.    $3.00. 

14.  SCHOOL  ARCHITECTURE  :  Principles,   Plans  and  Specifications  for  structures  for  educa 
t  onal  purposes      Revised  Edition— 800  pages.    $5.00. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX 


TO 

BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 

VOLUMES    I.    TO    XVI. 
CLASSIFICATION  OF  SUBJECTS. 

I.  General  Principles  and  History  of  Education.  XI.  Education  of  the  Deaf  and  Dumb,  Blind,  Idiots,  &c. 

II.  Individual  Views  and  Special  Systems  of  Education.  XII.  Moral  and  Religious  Education;  Sectarian  Schools 

III.  Studies  and  Methods  of  Teaching;  -School  Organiza-  and  Instruction. 

tion  and  Government.  XIII.  Female  Education. 

IV.  Teachers  and    their  Training ;   Normal    and    Model  XIV.  Physical  Education. 

Schools ;  Teachers'  Institutes.  XV.  Supplementary,  Self,  and  Home  Education ;  Libra- 

V.  State  and  National  Systems  of  Instruction.  ries. 

VI.  Secondary,    Intermediate,    Academical,  and     High       XVI.  Educational  Societies  and  Teachers'  Associations. 

Schools.  XVII.  Philology  and  Bibliography  ;  School-hooks  and  Peri- 

VII.  University  and  Collegiate  Education.  odicals,  &c. 
VIII.  Special   Schools  and  Departments  of  Science,  Arts,    XVIII.  School  Architecture. 

Agriculture,  Museums,  &c.  XIX.  Educational  Endowments  and  Benefactors. 

IX.  Military  and  Naval  Education.  XX.  Miscellaneous. 

X.  Preventive  and  Reformatory  Education.  XXI.  Educational  Biography  and  List  of  Portraits. 


18 


«  1  A— ITIEI)  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


i.  <;E.\EKAL  PHIM'IPLKK  AXD  HISTORY  OF  KUITATIO.V 


EDTTATION  defined  by  Eminent  Authorities;  EnjrlNh, 
XI.  1  '-*'  J  Greek,  Roman,  French,  German,  Scotch 
and  American.  XHI.  7-16. 

Educational  Aphorisms  and  Suggestions,  from  Two 
Hundred  Authorities,  Ancient  and  Modern. — Man, 
his  Dignity  and  Destiny,  VHI.  9.  Nature  and 
Value  of  Education,  VUJ.  38.  Duties  of  Parents 
and  Teachers,  VIII.  65.  Early  Home  Training, 
Vm.  75-80;  XIII.  79-92.  Female  Education 
XHI.  232-242.  Intellectual  Culture  in  General, 
X.  116.  Subjects  and  Means  of  Education,  X.  141, 
Religious  and  M  >r:il  Instruction,  X,  I'"'1'-  Disci 
pline,  X.  187.  Example,  X.  194-200.  The  State 
and  Education,  Xm.  717-024. 

Education,  Nature  and  Objects  of— Prize  Essay,  by 
John  Lnlor,  XVI.  33-64. 

Education  for  the  Times,  by  T.  M.  Clark,  TJ.  375. 

Education  a  State  Duty,  by  D.  B.  Duftield,  m.  81. 

Education  and  the  State;  Aphorisms,  XTTT.  717-T24. 
Views  of  Macaulay  and  Carlyle,  XIV.  403.  Amer 
ican  Authorities,  XI.  323 ;  XV.  5. 

Education  Preventive  of  Crime  and  Misery,  by  E.  C. 

Tainsch,  XI.  77-93. 

Home  Education— Labors  of  W.  Burton,  TJ.  333. 

Intellectual  Education,  by  William  Russell. — The 
Perceptive  Faculties,  TJ.  113-144,  317-332.  The 
Expressive  Faculties,  m,  47-64,  321-345.  The 
Reflective  Faculties,  IV.  199-218,  309-342. 

Lectures  on  Education,  by  W.  Knighton,  X.  573. 

Misdirected  Education  and  Insanity,  by  E.  Jurvis,  IV. 
591-612. 

Moral  and  Mental  Discipline,  by  7.  Richards,  I.  107. 

Objects  and  Methods  of  Intellectual  Education,  by 
Francis  Waylnnd,  TTTTT  801-816. 

Philosophy  of  Education,  by  Joseph  Henry,  I.  17-31. 

Philosophical  Survey  of  Education,  by  Sir  Henry 
Wotton,  XV.  131-143. 

Problem  of  Education,  by  J.  M.  Gregory.  XIV.  431. 

Powers  to  be  Educate?!,  by  Thomas  Hill,  XTV.  81-92. 

Self-Education  and  College  Education,  by  David  Mas- 
son,  IV,  262-271. 

Thoughts  on  Education,  by  Locke;  Physical,  XI. 
461 ;  Moral,  XTTT  548 ;  Intellectual,  XTV.  203. 

Views  and  Plan  of  Education,  by  Kriisi,  V.  187-197. 

Unconscious  Tuition,  by  F.  D.  Huntmgton,  I,  141-163. 

Schools  as  they  were  Sixty  Years  Ago  in  United 
States,  Xm.  123,  837  ;  XVI.  331,  738 ;  XVTJ. 

Progressive  Development  of  Schools  and  Education 
in  the  United  States.  XVII. 

History  of  Education,  from  the  German  of  Karl  von 
Runnier.  IV.  149.  History  of  Education  in  Italy. 
VII.  413-460.  Eminent  Teacher*  in  Germany  and 
the  Netherlands  prior  to  the  Fifteenth  Century.  IV. 
714.  Schletutadt  School.  V.  65.  School  Life  in 
the  Fifteenth  Century.  V.  79.  Early  School  Codes 
of  Germany,  VI.  426.  Jesuits  and  their  Schools, 
V.  213;  VI.  615.  Universities  in  the  Sixteenth 
Century,  V.  536.  Verbal  Realism,  V.  655.  School 


Reformers  at  Beginning  of  Seventeenth  Century, 
VI.  459.  Thirty  Years'  \Var,  and  the  Century 
Following,  VII.  367.  Real  Schools.  V.  «'89.  Re 
formatory  Philologists,  V.  741.  Home  and  Private 
Instruction,  VH.  381.  Religious  Instruction,  VII. 
401.  Methods  of  Teaching  Latin,  VI.  581.  Meth 
ods  of  Classical  Instruction,  VII.  471.  Methods  01* 
Teaching  Real  Branches,  VHI.  10J-228.  German 
Universities,  VI.  9-65;  VII.  47-152.  Student  So 
cieties,  VII.  1M- 

Educational  Development  in  Europe,  by  II.  P.  Tappan, 
I.  247-268. 

Hebrews,  and  their  Education,  by  M.  J.  Raphall,  I. 
243. 

Greek  Views  of  Education,  Aristotle,  XIV.  131 ; 
Lycurgns,  and  Spartan  Education,  XIVt  611; 
Plutarch,  XI.  99. 

Roman  Views  of  Education,  Quintilian,  XI.  3. 

Italian  Views  of  Education  and  Schools,  Acquavivn, 
XIV.  462;  Boccaccio.  VII.  422;  Botta,  m.  513; 
Dunte  and  Petrarch.  VH.  418;  Picus,  Politian, 
Valla,  Vittorino,  VII.  44-> ;  Rosmini.  IV.  479. 

Dutch  Views  of  Education,  Agricola,  IV.  717;  Busch 
and  Lange.  IV.  726;  Erasmus,  IV.  729;  Hierony- 
mions.  IV.  622;  Reuchlin,  V.  65;  Weasel, IV.  714. 

French  Views  of  Education  and  Schools,  Fenelon, 
Xm.  477;  Guizot,  XL  254,  357;  Marcel.  XL 
21;  Montaigne,  IV.  461;  Rabelais,  XTV.  147; 
Rousseau,  V.  459  ;  La  Salle,  TTT,  437. 

German  Views  of  Education,  Abbenrode,  IV.  505, 
512;  Basedow.  V.  487;  Comenius,  V.  257;  Die«- 
terweg,  IV.  235,  505;  Dinter.  VII.  153;  Felbiger, 
IX.  600:  Fliedner,  TTT  487;  Frankg,  V.  481; 
Graser.  VI.  575;  Gtitsmuths,  VU.  191;  Hamnnn, 
VI.  247  ;  HenUchel.  Vm.  <>33;  Herder,  VI.  195; 
Jacobs.  VI.  612:  Jahn.  VUJ.  196;  Luther,  IV. 
421;  Meinotto,  VI.  609;  Melancthon,  IV.  741; 
Neander,  V.  599;  Overberg,  XTJT.  365;  Ratich, 
V.  229;  Raumer,  VTJ.  200,  381;  VJJL  101;  X. 
227,  613;  Riithardt.  VI.  ''00;  Sturm.  IV.  167,  401 ; 
Tobler,  V.  205;  Trotzendorf,  V.  107;  Von  Turk, 
V.  155;  Vogel,  IX.  210;  Wolf.  VI.  260. 

Swiss  Views  of  Education,  Fellenberg,  TTT,  594; 
Kriisi,  V.  189;  Pestalozzi,  UJ.  401;  VII.  513; 
Vehrli.  UJ.  389. 

English  Views  of  Education.  Arnold,  IV.  545;  As- 
cham,  IV.  155;  Bacon,  XUJ.  103;  Bell,  X.  467. 
Colet.  XVI.  657;  Elyot.  XVI.  4-:.:  Hale,  XVJJ. 
Hartlih,  XL  191;  Goldsmith,  XUJ,  347;  John- 
son,  XIJ.  3ti'.t;  I.nlur,  XVI.  33;  Lancaster  and 
Bell,  X.  3:>:>:  Locke  VI.  209:  XI.  4G1 :  XUJ. 
54H :  Mnwiin.  IV.  262 ;  XIV.  262 ;  Milton,  TJ.  »1  ; 
Mtilcaster.  XVII.  177;  Spon.-rr.  XL  445;  Sedg- 
wi.-k.  XVU. ;  Temple,  F.XVU.  ;  \Vheweli,  W., 

xvn. 

Early  Promoters  of  Realism  in  England,  XJJ.  476. 
Bacon,  V.  «»  ;  Cowley,  TTT  651 ;  Iloole,  XIJ. 
647  :  Petty,  XI.  199. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


19 


II.    INDIVIDUAL  VIEWS  AND  SPECIAL  SYSTEMS  OF  EDUCATION. 


Abbenrode.     On  Teaching  History  and   Geography, 

IV.  505,  512. 
Abbot,   G.    D.,  and  the   Useful   Knowledge  Society, 

XV.  241.     Educational  Labors,  XVI.  000. 
Aekland,  Henry  VV.     Natural  Science  and  Physical 

Exercise  in  Schools,  XVLT. 

Acquaviva,  and  the  Ratio  Studiorum,  XIV.  462. 
Adams,  John.     Education  and  the  Stute,  XV.  12. 
Adams,  J.  Q.     On  Normal  Schools,  I,  589.     Educa 
tion  and  the  State,  XV.  12.     Educational  Reform 

in  Sile»in,  XVII. 

Addison,  Joseph.     Education  and  Sculpture,  XI.  16. 
Adelung,  J.  C.     Philological  Labors,  XL  451. 
Agassiz,  L.  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology,  IX.  615. 
Agrioola,  Rudolf.     Life  and  Opinions,  IV.  "17. 
Airy,  G.  B.     Mathematics  and   Natural   Science   in 

Schools,  XVII. 

Akerly,  S.     Deaf-mute  Training,  III.  348. 
Akroyd,  E.     Mode  of  Improving  a  Factory  PopXila- 

tion,  VILI.  305. 

Albert,  Prince.  On  Science  and  Art,  IV.  813. 
Alcott,  A.  Bronson.  School-days,  XVI.  130. 
Alcott,  William  A.  Educational  Views,  IV.  629. 

Plan  of  Village  School,  IX.  540. 
Allyn,  Robert.    Schools  of  Rhode  Island,  H.  544. 
Anderson,  H.  J.     Schools  of  Physical  Science,  I.  515. 
Andrews,  I.  W.     Educational  Labors,  XVI.  604. 
Audrews,  L.     Educational  Labors,  XVI.  604. 
Andrews,    S.    J.    The   Jesuits    and    their    Schools, 

XIV.  155. 
Anthony,  H.     On  Competitive  Examinations  at  West 

Point,  XV.  51. 
Aristotle,   nnd   his   Educational   Views,   XIV.    131. 

Cited,   HI.    45;    IV.   463;    V.   673;    VII.   415; 

VIII.  40-79 ;  X.  132-195. 

Arnold,    Matthew.      Tribute    to    Guizot,    XI.    281. 

Schools  of  Holland,  XIV.  712. 
Arnold,  Thomas,  as  a  Teacher,  IV.  545-581. 
Ascham,     Roger.      Biographical    Sketch,    ILT.     23. 

Toxophilus;    the   Schoole  of  Shootinge,   HI.  41. 

The  Schoolmaster,  IV.  155 ;  XI.  57. 
Ashburton,    Lord.      Prize   Scheme   and   Address  on 

Teaching  Common  Things,  I.  629. 
Austin,  Sarah.     Ends  of  a  Good  Education,  XI.  20. 
Aventinus.     Study  of  German,  XI.  162. 

Bache,  A.  D.  On  a  National  University,  I.  477. 
Education  in  Europe,  VIII.  435,  444,  455,  564,  609 ; 

IX.  167,   210,   569;    XII.    337;  XILT.  303,  307. 
Bacon,  Leonard.     Life  of  James  Hillhouse,  VI.  325. 
Bacon,  Lord.     His  Philosophy  and  its  Influence  upon 

Education,  V.  663.  Essays  on  Education,  and 
Studies,  with  Annotations  by  Whately,  XIII.  103. 

Bailey,  Ebenezer.  Memoir,  XII.  429.  Girls'  High 
School  in  Boston  in  1828,  XIH.  252. 

Baker,  T.  B.  L.     Reformatory  Education,  HI.  789. 

Baker,  W.  S.     Itinerating  School  Agency,  I.  729. 

Banks,  N.  P.     Museum  of  Zoology,  IX.  619. 


Bard,  Samuel.     Schools  of  Louisiana.  II.  473. 

Barnard,  D.  D.  Right  of  State  to  establish  Schools, 
XI.  323.  Memoir  of  S.  Van  Rensellaer,  VI.  223. 

Barnard,  F.  A.  P.  Improvements  in  American  Col 
leges,  I.  269.  Influence  of  Yale  College,  V.  723. 
Memoir,  V.  753-780.  Titles  and  Analysis  of  Publi 
cations,  V.  763-769.  Value  of  Classical  Studies, 
V,  763.  Open  System  of  University  Teaching,  V. 
765.  Post-graduate  Department,  V.  775.  Oral 
Teaching,  V.  775. 

Barnard,  H.  Educational  Labors  in  Connecticut  from 
1837  to  1842,  I.  669;  Speech  in  Legislature  in  1838, 
678;  Address  to  the  People  of  Connecticut,  670; 
Analysis  of  First  Report  in  1839,  674;  Expenditures 
for  School  Purposes.  679 ;  Measures  and  Results, 
685;  Schedule  of  Inquiries,  686;  Topics  of  School 
Lectures,  709 ;  Plan  of  State  Institute,  721.  Labors 
in  Rhode  Island  from  1843  to  184!),  I.  723;  XIV. 
558;  Institute  of  Instruction,  559;  Series  of  Educa 
tional  Tracts,  567;  Educational  Libraries,  568; 
Correspondence  with  Committee  of  Teachers,  579. 
Labors  in  Connecticut  from  1850  to  1854,  XV.  276; 
Plan  of  Public  High  School,  279;  Public  and  Pa 
rental  Interest  and  Cooperation,  285 ;  Legal  Organi 
zation  of  Schools,  289;  School  Attendance,  293; 
Agricultural  Districts,  303;  Manufacturing  Districts, 
305;  Cities,  309;  Gradation  of  Schools,  316;  Pri 
vate  versus  Public  Schools,  323;  Teachers'  Insti 
tutes,  387.  Arguments  for,  VIH.  672.  Normal 
Schools,  I.  753;  X.  15.  Plan  of  Society,  and  Jour 
nal  and  Library  of  Education,  I.  15,  134.  Princi 
ples  and  Plans  of  School  Architecture,  I.  740;  IX. 
487;  X.  695;  XH.  701;  XHI.  818;  XIV.  780; 
XV.  783;  XVI.  781.  National  Education*in  Eu 
rope,  I.  745;  XV.  329.  Reports  and  Documents 
on  Common  Schools  in  Connecticut,  I.  754,  761. 
Reports  and  Journal  of  Public  Schools  in  Rhode 
Island,  I.  755.  Tribute  to  Gallaudet,  I.  417,  759. 
Memoir  of  Ezekiel  Cheever,  I.  297,  769.  Reforma 
tory  Schools  and  Education,  HI.  551,  819.  Mili 
tary  Schools  and  Education,  XH.  3-400.  Naval 
and  Navigation  Schools,  XV.  17,  65.  Competitive 
Examination,  XI.  103.  Educational  Aphorisms, 
VIII.  7 ;  XHI.  7,  717.  German  Universities,  VI. 
9;  VH.  49,  201.  Books  for  the  Teacher,  XIH. 
447.  German  Educational  Reformers,  XHI.  448. 
American  Text-books,  XHI.  209,  401,  628 ;  XIV. 
753;  XV.  539.  English  Pedagogy,  XVI.  467; 
Object  Teaching  and  Primary  Instruction  in  Great 
Britain,  469.  Pestalozzi  and  Pestalozzianism,  VH. 
284,  502.  National  and  State  Educational  Associa 
tions,  XVI.  311  ;  American  College  Education,  339. 
Standard  Publications,  XVI.  797;  Progressive  De 
velopment  of  Education  in  the  United  States, 
XVH;  Educational  Land  Grants,  XVH, 

Barnard,  J.     School-days  in  1689,  I.  307. 

Barnard,  J.  G.  Treatise  on  the  Gyroscope,  HI.  537; 
IV.  529 ;  V.  298. 


20        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Barney,  II.  H.     Schools  of  Ohio,  II.  531. 

Harrow,  Isaac.     Education  defined,  XL  13. 

Basedow,  and  the  Philanthropinum,  V.  487-520. 

Uuteman,  X.     E<lucationnl  labors,  XVI.  105. 

Bales,  S.  P.  On  Liberal  Education,  XV.  155.  Me 
moir.  XV.  682. 

Bates,  VV.  G.     On  Training  of  Teachers,  XVI.  453. 

Becker,  K.  L.    Study  of  Language,  XII.  460. 

Beecher,  Miss  C.  E.  Physical  Training,  II.  399. 
Western  Education,  XV.  274. 

Beecher,  Henry  W.     School  Reminiscences.  XVI.  135. 

Bell,  Andrew,  and  the  Madras  System,  X.  407. 

Benedict,  St.,  and  the  Benedictines,  XVII. 

Beneke,  F.  E.     Pedagogical  Views,  XVII. 

Bernhnrdt.     Teachers'  Conferences,  XUI.  277. 

Berranger.     Training  of  Orphan  Children,  m.  736. 

Bingham,  Caleb.     Educational  Labors.  V.  325. 

Bishop,  Nathan.  Puhlic  Schools  of  Boston,  I.  458. 
Girls'  High  School  of  Boston,  XI.  203.  Plans  of 
Providence  School -houses,  XI.  582.  Memoir, 

xvn. 

Blockmnn,  Dr  Pestalozzi's  Poor  School  at  Neuhoff, 
HI.  585. 

Boccaccio,  and  Educational  Reform  in  Italy,  XH. 
418. 

Podleigh,  Sir  T.    On  Travel,  XV.  380. 

Bolingbroke.     Genius  and  Experience,  XI.  12. 

Booth,  Rev.  J.  Popular  Education  in  England,  m. 
252,  265.  Competitive  Examination,  m.  257. 

Borgi,  Jean,  and  Abandoned  Orphans,  HI.  583. 

Butt  a,  V.  Public  Instruction  in  Sardinia.  HI.  513; 
IV.  37.  479. 

Bowen,  Francis.    Life  of  Edmund  Dwight,  IV.  5. 

Braid  wood,  J.     Education  of  Deaf-mules,  m.  348. 

Brninerd,  T.  Home  and  School  Training  in  1718, 
Xy.  331. 

Braun,  T.     Education  defined.  XIH.  10. 

Breckenridge,  R.  J.     Schools  of  Kentucky,  II.  488. 

Brinsley,  J.    Consolations  for  Grammar  Schools.  I.  311. 

Brocket!,  L.  P.  Idiots  and  their  Training,  I.  593. 
Institutions  and  Instruction  for  the  Blind,  IV.  127. 

Brooks,  Chnrles.  Best  Methods  of  Teaching  Morals, 
I.  336.  Education  of  Tear  hers,  I.  587. 

Brooks,  K.     Labors  of  Dr.  Wayland,  Xm.  771. 

Brougham,  Lord.  Life  and  Educational  Views,  VI. 
467.  Education  and  the  State,  XIII.  722.  Train 
ing  of  the  Orator,  and  Value  of  Eloquence,  XVI.  187. 

Brown,  Thomas.     Education  defined,  XIII.  13. 

Brownson,  O.  A.    Education  defined.  Xm.  12. 

Burkham,  M.  II.  English  Language  in  Society  and 
School,  XIV.  343.  Plan  of  Study.  XVI.  595. 

Buckingham,  J.  T.    Schools  as  they  were,  XIII.  129. 

Kulkley,  J.  VV.    Teachers'  Association*.  XV.  1*5. 

Burgess.  George.  Thoughts  on  Religion  and  Public 
Schools,  n.  562. 

Burke,  Edmund.     Education  defined,  XI.  17. 

Bnrrowes,  T.  II.  Reports  on  Pennsylvania  Schools, 
VI.  114.  556.  History  of  Normal  Schools  in  Penn 
sylvania.  XVI.  195. 

Burton,  W.  District-school  as  it  was,  HI,  456.  Me 
moir.  XVI.  330. 


Bushnell,  Horace.  'Early  Trainins,  XUI.  79.  Pat- 
times,  Plays,  and  Holidays",  XIH.  93.  Homespun 
Era  of  Common  Schools,  XUI.  14'-.  The  State 
and  Education,  XTTT,  723. 

Buss,  J.,  and  Pestalozzianisin,  VI.  293. 

Byron,  Lady.    Girls'  Reformatory  School,  TTT.  785. 

Cady,  L.  F.     Classical  Instruction,  XII.  561. 
Caldwell,   Charles.      Education   in   North    Carolina, 

XVI.  109. 

Calhoun,  W.  B.    Memorial  on  Nor.  Sch.,  XVI.  86. 
Calkins,  N.  A.    Object  Teaching,  XII.  033. 
Carlyle,   T.      Education    defined,   XUI.    13.      The 

State  and  Education,  XTV.  4<Hi.     Reading,  XVI. 

191.     University  Studies,  XVII. 
Carj>enter,  Mary.     Reformatory  Education,  HE.  10, 

785. 

Carj>enter,  VV.  B.     Physical  Science  and  Modern  Lan 
guages  in  Schools,  XVII. 
Carter,  J.  G.    Life  and  Services,  V.  409.     Essay  on 

Teachers'  Seminaries,  XVI.  71.     Memorial,  XVI. 

§0. 

Cecil,  Sir  William.     Aflvice  to  his  Son,  IX.  161. 
Channing,   W.   E.      Teachers   and   their    Education, 

XII.  453.     End  of  Education,  Xm.  15. 
Chauveau,  P.  J.  O.     Education  in   Lower  Canada, 

n.  728. 
Cheever,  Ezekiel.     Memoir  and  Educational  Labors, 

xn.  531. 

Cheke,  Sfr  John.    EQ.  24. 

Chesterfield,  Lord.    Advice  to  his  Son,  XVII. 

Choate,  Rufus.    The  Peabody  Institute,  I.  239. 

Christian  Brothers,  System  of.     HI.  347. 

Cicero.    Cited,  VHI.  13,  14,  43,  79;  X.   133,   151, 

167,  194-196;  XH.  409. 
Cliijus,  and  the  German  Language.  XI.  408. 
Clark,  H.  G.     On  Ventilation,  XV.  787. 
Clark.  T.  M.     Education  for  the  Times,  H.  376. 
Claxton,  T.     First  Manufacturer  of  School  Apparatus, 

Vm.253. 

Clay,  John.    Juvenile  Criminals,  TTT  773. 
Clerc,  Laurent.    HI.  349. 

Clinton,  DeVVitt.     Education  of  Teachers,  XHI.  311 
Cocker,  E.     Methods  of  Arithmetic,  XVH. 
Cogereshall,  VV.  J.    Ohio  System  of  Public  Schools 

VI.  81,  532. 
Colliurn,  Dana  P.     Memoir  and  Educational  Work 

XI.  289. 

Colburn,  Warren.     Educational  Work,  H.  194. 
Cole,  David.     On  Classical  Education,  I.  r.7. 
Coleridge,  D.     St.  Marks'  Normal  College.  X.  531. 
Coleridge,  S.  T.    The  Ten.-!,, T'<  (inn-. «.  H.  102. 
Ci.l.-t,    .John.       Educational    Yiewt     and    Influence, 

XVI.  057. 
Culli-,  J.  D.     Endowed  Grammar  Schools  of  England, 

Vm.  256. 
Colman,   Henry.      Agricultural   School   at  Grignon 

VHI.  555. 
Comenitis,  Amos.     Educational  Labors,  V.  257-298, 

Orbis  Pictus,  VI.  585. 
Confucius.    Cited,  VHI.  10,  11 ;  X.  132,  167. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


21 


Coote,  Edward.     The  English  Schoolmaster,  I.  209. 
Cotirteilles,  Viscount  cle,  and  the  Home  Reformatory, 

III.  572,  647,  704. 
Cousin,    V.     School  System  of  Holland,  VLTI.   598. 

School  Law  of  Prussia,  IX.  382.     Normal  Schools, 

XIII.  28-2. 
Coutts,  Miss   Burdett.     Prize   Scheme   for  Teaching 

Common  Things,  H.  708. 
Cowdery.  M.-F.     Moral  Training,  XVI.  323. 
Cowley,  A.     Plan  of  Philosophical  College,  XII.  651. 
Cowper,  William.     The   Tirocinium,  or   Review  of 

Schools,  VIII.  469.     Discipline,  VILT.  489. 
Cjabbe,  George.    Schools  of  the  Borough,  IV.  582; 

HI.  461. 

Croshy,  Alpheus.     Massachusetts  Schools,  H.  508. 
Currie,  James.     Methods   of  Early   Education,  IX. 

229-293. 

Curtin,  A.  G.     Schools  of  Pennsylvania,  LT.  541. 
Cuvier,  Baron.     Schools  of  Holland,  VIII.  597,  607. 

Dana,  J.  D.     Science  and  Scientific  Schools,  H.  349. 

Dante,  and  the  Revival  of  Education  in  Italy,  VII. 
418. 

Darlington,  W.     Schools  as  they  were,  XHI.  741. 

Dawson,  J.  VV.  Natural  History  in  its  Educational 
Aspects,  m.  428. 

Day,  Henry  N.     English  Composition,  XVI.  641. 

Day,  Jeremiah.     On  Schools  as  they  were,  XVI.  126. 

Degerundo,  Baron.     Monitorial  Methods,  X.  465. 

De  La  Salle,  Abbe.  Memoir,  and  System- of  Chris 
tian  Schools,  HI.  437. 

De  Laspe.  Method  and  Motive  of  Instruction,  VILT. 
180. 

Delille,  James.    The  Village  Schoolmaster,  HI.  153. 

Demetz,  M.  Agricultural  Colonies,  I.  611 ;  LTI.  572, 
G67. 

De  Morgan.     Arithmetics  and  the-r  Authors,  XVLT. 

Dick.     Bequest,  I.  392. 

Diesterweg.  Methods  of  Teaching,  IV.  233,  505. 
School  Discipline  and  Plans  of  Instruction,  VIH. 
616.  Intuitional  and  Speaking  Exercises,  XH. 
411. 

Dinter,  G.  F.  Memoir  and  Educational  Labors,  VII. 
153;  XIV.  738.  Defense  of  Catechetical  Method, 
IX.  377. 

D'Israeli,  I.     Influence  of  Books  and  Authors,  H.  220. 

Doane,  G.  W.    The  State  and  Education,  XV.  5. 

Dole,  Isainh.  Requirements  in  an  English  Lexicogra 
pher,  LTI.  161.  Mary  Lyon,  X.  649. 

Donald.«on,  J.  W.  University  Teaching,  XVI. 
Competition  Tests,  XVLT.  German  and  English 
Scholarship  compared,  XVLT. 

Ducpetiatix,  M.  Reports  on  Reform  Schools,  111. 
677,  597,  599,  604,  716,  749. 

Duffield,  D.  B.     Education  a  State  Duty,  HI.  81. 

Dunn,  PL  Organization  and  Instruction  of  the  Bor 
ough  Road  Schools,  X.  381-459. 

Dunnell,  M.  H.  Report  on  the  Schools  of  Maine,  LT. 
495. 

Dwighr,  Edmund.    Memoir  TV  5 

Dwignt,  Francis.     Educational  Labors.  V.  803- 


Dwight,  Mary.     Art   Education,  LT.  409,  587;    TTJ. 

467;  IV.  171;  V.  305. 
Dwiglit,  Timothy,  as  an  Educator,  V.  567. 

Eaton,  H.    School-houses  of  Vermont,  XL  510. 

Eberhard,  J.  J.  Rural  Reformatory  School  at  Casa, 
III.  599. 

Edgeworth,  Maria.  Extract  from  Practical  Educa 
tion,  XII.  602. 

Edson,  T.  Warren  Colhurn  and  his  System  of  Arith 
metic,  LT.  294. 

Edwards,  N.  W.  Report  on  Schools  of  Illinois,  LT. 
479. 

Edwards,  Richnrd.  Memoir  of  Tillinghast,  LT.  568. 
Normal  Schools,  XVI.  271. 

Elgin,  Lord.  Education  in  the  United  States  and 
Canada,  ILT.  239. 

Eliot,  Samuel.     Arnold  as  a  Teacher,  IV.  535. 

Eliot,  S.  A.  Educational  Benefactions  of  Boston, 
VILT.  522;  IX.  600.  History  of  Harvard  College, 
IX.  129. 

Elyot,  Sir  Thomas.    The  Governour,  XVI.  483. 

Emerson,  G.  B.  Educational  Labors,  V.  417.  Me 
morial  on  State  Superintendent,  V.  652.  Memorial 
on  Normal  Schools,  XVI.  93.  Life  of  Felton,  X. 
265.  Plan  of  School-houses.  IX.  542. 

Epictetus.     Cited,  VILT.  11,  42;  X.  132,  168. 

Erasmus.     Educational  Views,  IV.  729;  XVI,  681. 

Euclid,  and  the  Method  of  Geometry,  VILT.  155. 

Everett,  Alexander  H.     Normal  Schools,  XVI.  89. 

Everett,  Edward.  Uses  of  Astronomy,  II.  004.  John 
Lowell  and  the  Lowell  Lectures,  V.  437.  Influence 
of  Harvard,  V.  531.  Boston  Library,  VII.  266, 
365.  Female  Education,  IX.  635  ;  XLT.  721.  Ex 
tracts  from  Addresses — Public  Schools  Fifty  Years 
Ago — College  Life — Common  Schools  and  Colleges 
— Conditions  of  a  Good  School — Science  and  Popu 
lar-Education— Moral  Education — Popular  Educa 
tion—  VII.  343 ;  XV.  14.  Life  of  Thomas  Dowse, 
IX.  355. 

Faraday,  M.    Claims  of  Natural  Science  in  a  Liberal 

Education.  XVII. 
Felbiger,  J.  I.    Educational  Labors  in  Austria,  IX. 

600. 
Fellenberg.     Principles   of  Education,  HI.  594;  X. 

81;  XIH.  11,523. 
Felton,  C.  C.     Characteristics  of  American  Colleges, 

IX.  112.     Memoir  and  Extracts,  X.  265. 
Fenelon.    Memoir  and  Educational  Views,  XIH.  477. 
Feuerbnch,  L.    Intuition  and  Thinking  in  Education, 

XH.  422. 
Fichte.     On  Learning  by  Heart,  XH.  416.     Physical 

Culture,  VIH.  192.     Cited,  VHI.  29,  620. 
Fletcher,  J.    Borough  Rond  Normal  School,  X.  435- 

465. 
Fliedncr.    Institution  for  Deaconesses  at  Kaiserswerth, 

HI.  487. 
Follenius,   Karl.     Relations  to  Karl   Ludwig   Sand, 

VI.  Ill,  125. 
Forbes,  E.     Educational  Uses  of  Museums.  IV.  788 


22        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD  8  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Fowle,  \V.  B.    Memoir  and   School   Improvement*, 

X,  600. 

Franckg,  A.  H.     His  View*  and  Labors,  V.  441. 
Franklin,  B.     His  Interest  in  Higher  Education,  VII. 

®&;  Vm.  251  ;  X.  283. 

Friesen,  F.,  and  the  German  Gymnastics,  VIII.  197. 
Froebel,  and  the  Kindergarten  System,  U.  449;  IV 

857,  793. 
Fuller,  Thomas.    The  Good  Schoolmaster,  HI.  155. 

Gallaudet,  T.  H.    Life  and  Services,  I.  425.    Educa 

tion  of  Teachers,  X.  16. 
Galloway,   Samuel.    Teachers'   Institute,  XV.   401. 

Memoir,  XVI.  583. 

Gammell,  \V.     Memoir  of  Nicholas  Brown.  HI.  291. 
Gardner,  Francis.     Boston  Latin  School,  XH.  553. 
Garfield,  J.  A.     Department  of  Education.  XVH. 
Gerard-Groote,  and  the  Hieronyrnians,  IV.  G23. 
Gesner,  J.  M.     Educational  Views,  V.  741  ;  VI.  583. 
Gibbs,  J.    \V.     Philological   Contributions,  U.  '  198; 

TTT   101-124. 

Gilfillan.     The  Scotch  School-dame,  m.  456. 
Gillespie,  W.  M.     Mathematical  Methods  of  the  Ecole 

Polytechnique,  I.  533;  U.  177. 
Gilman,  I).  C.     Scientific  Schools  of  Europe,  I.  315. 

Higher  Special  Schools  of  France,  U.  93. 
Gladstone,  \V.  E.    The  Classics  in  a  Liberal  Educa 

tion,  xvn. 

Goethe.     Educational  Views,  Vm.  20,  G19,  648  ;  X. 

51,  161,  199,  225,  617,  621. 
Goldsmith.    Essay  on  Education,  YTTT    347.    The 

Village  Schoolmaster,  TTT,  158. 
Goodrich,  8.  G.  •  Schools  as  they  were,  XTTT,  134. 
Goodwin,  F.  J.     Norwich  Free  Academy,  TTT,  195. 
Gordon,  John.     Normal  Schools  of  Scotland,  X.  583. 
GotUched,  J.  C.    German  Grammar,  XI.  447. 
Gould,  B.  A.     An  American  University,  H.  265-293. 
Graser.     System  of  Instruction,  VI.  575. 
Gray,  Thomas.     Alliance  of  Education  and  Govern 

ment,  VHJ.  287.     Ode  on  Eton  College,  VTTT,  285. 
Green,  L.   VV.     Normal  Schools  for  Kentucky,  TTT, 

217. 
Green,  S.  S.    Educational  Duties  of  the  Hour,  XVI. 

229.    Object  Teaching,  XVI.  245. 
Gregory,  J.  M.    The  Problem  of  Education,  XIV. 

431-5.     Memoir,  XV.  643. 
Grimke,  T.  S.     Plan  of  Study,  JJ.  230. 
Grimm,  the  Brothers.     XI.  454. 
Grimshhaw,  A.  H.     Schools  of  Delaware,  U.  474. 
Griscom,   John.     Memoir  and   Educational    Labors, 


Grote,  J.    Education  defined,  XI.  18. 

Guilford,  Natlmn.     Educational  Labors,  VUJ.  289, 

Gui/ot.    Ministry  of  Public  Instruction  in  Frnnre.  XI. 

254,  357.  The  State  and  Education.  XUI.  '  1  *. 
Gulliver,  J.  P.  Norwich  Free  Academy.  JJ.  W?5. 
GuU-Muths.  System  of  Physicnl  Training,  VTTT.  191. 

Training  of  the  Senses,  VJJI.  207. 

Haddork,  C.  B.    School-houses  in  New  Hampshire, 
IX.  513. 


Hale,  R.     Continental  Reformatories.  IU.  642,  744. 
Ha!e,  Sir  Matthew.     Plan  of  Study,  XVU. 
Hall,  E.  E.     Life  of  Edward  Everett,  VII.  325. 
Hall,  S.  R.     Educational  Labors,  V.  373.    Teachers' 

Seminary  at  Andover  V.  386. 
Hall,  W.     On  Schools  as   hey  were,  XVI.  127. 
Halsey,  L.  J.     Life  of  Philip  Lindsley,  VIL  9. 
Hamann,  J.  G.     Educational  Views,  VI.  247. 
Hamilton,  J.,  and  the  Hamiltonian  Method.  VI.  586. 
Hamilton,    Sir    W.     Education     defined,    XI.    18; 

XIH.  13.     On  Mathematics  XVII. 
llamniill,  S.  M.     School  Government,  I.  123. 
Hammond,  C.     On  X.  England  Academies,  XVI.  403. 
Harnisch.     Cited,  VUI.  58.     Plan  of  Instruction  fo: 

Annaberg  Orphan  House.  VUI.  437. 
Harris,  James.     Education  a  Growth,  XI.  16. 
Hart,   J.   S.     Study   of  the   Anglo-Saxon,  I.   33-66. 

Memoir  and  Views,  V.  91. 
Hnrtlib.     Plan  of  College  of  Husbandry  in  1681,  XI. 

191,  649.     Memoir,  XJJ.  649. 
Hitskins,  G.  F.     Reformatory  School  at  Rome.  JJI. 

580. 

Haupt.    The   Burschenschaften  of  the  German  Uni 
versities,  VU.  161. 
Hniiy,  V.,  and  the  Instruction  of  the  Blind,  IJJ  477; 

IV.  130. 

Haven,  Joseph.     Mentnl  Science  as  a  Stink,  UJ.  li!5. 
Hawley,  Gideon.     Memoir  and  Labors,  XI.  94. 
Hedge,  N.     On  Schools  as  they  were.  XVI.  738. 
Hedge.     On  University  Reform,  XVH. 
Hegius.     Educational  View*.  IV.  7'23. 
Helps,  Arthur.     Learnins  and  Doing,  XI.  18. 
Henfrey,  A.     Study  of  Botany,  XVU. 
Henry,  Joseph.     Philosophy  of  Education,  I.  17. 
Hentschel,  E.     Singing,  VUJ.  <>33;  Drawing,  X.  59. 
Herbert,  J.  F.     Pedagogical  Views.  XVU. 
Herder.     Life  and  Educational  Views,  VI.  195. 
Herschel.  Sir  J.  F.  W.    On  Reading.  XVU. 
Heyder,  W.     Address  at  Jena  in  1607,  VI.  56. 
Hickson,  E.   H.    The  State  and  Education,  XUJ. 

718. 

Hill,  M.  D.     Preventive  Treatment  of  Crime,  TTJ.  766. 

Hill,  Thomas.    True  Order  of  Studies,  VI.   180,449; 

VU.  273,  491.     Powers  to  be  Educated,  XIV.  81. 

Didactics  in  Colleges,  XV.  177. 

Hillard,  G.   S.     Public  Library  of  Boston,  U.   203. 

The  State  and  Education,  XV.  14. 
Hillhoii'e,  James  A.     Education  and  Literature  in  a 

Republic,  XVU. 

Hint/.,  E.     Nntural  History,  IV.  241. 
Hobbs,  Thomas.     Knowledge  and  Experience,  XI.  14. 
Hodgins,  J.  G.     Popular  Education  in  Cannda,  I.  186 
Holbrook,  Josiah.     Tin-  I/n-rnm  S\«ti-m.  XIV.  535 
Educational  Labors,  VUI 

<  I,  C.      Family  R.-fonnatories,  IV.  P24. 
Honcamp.      Instruction  in  Reading,  IV,  234;   Lan- 

K"nge.  XH  482. 

Ho.»d,  Thomas.     The  Irish  Schoolmaster,  IV.  183. 
Hooker,  J.     Study  of  Botany  in  Schools,  XVL  403. 
Hooker,  Richard.    Knowledge  of  and   Obedience  i« 
Law,  XT   13 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION.        23 


Hoole,  C.,  and  Object  Teaching  in  1658,  XII.  647, 
Old  Art  of  Teaching,  XVII. 

Hopkins,  Mark.  Memoir  and  Educational  Publica 
tions,  XL  225.  Extracts— Education — Self-educa 
tion — Female  Education — Academies — Medical  Sci 
ence—Theological  Education — Objections  to  Col 
leges—Taste  and  Morals— XI.  225-231. 

Hornberg,  T.     Thoughts  on  the  Education  of  Girls, 

vin.  319.  - 

Hovey,  C.  E.     Memoir  and  Labors,  VIII.  94. 
Howe,  S.  G.     Laura  Bridgman's  Education,  IV.  383. 

Summary  of  Labors,  XI.  389. 
Hubbs,  P.  K.     Schools  of  California,  II.  4G7. 
Hubbard,   J.   O.     Normal    Schools    in    New    York, 

XIII.  345.  ,» 

Humphrey,    Heman.     Normal    Schools,    XII.    655. 

Schools  as  they  were,  XIII.  125. 
Huntington,   F.    D.     Unconscious   Tuition,   I.    141. 

Public  Prayers  in  Colleges,  IV.  22. 

Ickelsamer,  V.,  and  the  German  Language,  XI.  402. 
Ingraham,    J.     Plan   of  Primary    School-house,  X. 
719. 

Jackson,  W.  L.     Schools  of  Virginia,  II.  557. 

Jacobs,  F.     Method  of  Teaching  Latin,  VI.  612. 

Jacotct,  I.,  and  his  Method,  VI.  295;  XII.  604. 

Jahn,  F.  L.  German  Turning  System  and  Physical 
Education,  VIE.  190;  XV.  229. 

Jameson,  Mrs.  Social  Position  and  Occupations  of 
Woman,  III.  495. 

Jnrvis,  E.  Misdirected  Eflucation  and  Insanity,  IV. 
591. 

Jay,  John.     Education  and  the  State,  XV.  13. 

Jefferson,  T.     The  State  and  Education,  XV.  12. 

Jerome,  St.     On  Female  Education,  V.  593. 

Jewell,  F.  S.     Teaching  as  a  Profession,  XV.  579. 

John  of  Ravenna.     Educational  Views,  VII.  435. 

Johnson,  Samuel.  Thoughts  on  Education  and  Con 
duct,  XIII.  359. 

Johnson,  W.  R.     Educational  Labors,  V.  799. 

Julius,  Dr.     Normal  Schools  in  Prussia,  XVI.  89. 

Kant.  Cited,  V.  504;  VHI.  28,  48;  X.  135,  137, 
191,641;  XIII.  13. 

Kay,  J.  P.  Training  of  Parochial  Schoolmasters,  IX. 
170. 

Kay,  Joseph.  Subjects  and  Methods  of  Primary  In 
struction,  VIII.  416.  Position  of  Prussian  Teach 
ers,  XI.  169.  Normal  Schools  in*  Saxony,  XIII. 
524. 

Keenan,  P.  J.  Monitorial  System  in  Ireland,  X.  462; 
XIII.  150.  School  Organization,  XIIE.  145. 

Kepler.     Estimate  of  Euclid,  VHE.  159. 

Kingsbury,  John.  Young  Ladies'  High  School  at 
Providence,  V.  16. 

Kingsley,  J.  L.     Discourse  on  Yale  College,  V.  541. 

Kliipfel.   History  of  Tiibingen  University,  IX.  57. 

Knight,  Charles.     Economical  Science,  IX.  105. 

Knighton,  W.     Educational  Lectures,  X.  573. 

Krug.  .  Cited,  VHI.  23,  60 ;  X.  122,  123,  133. 


Kriisi.     Life  and  Educational  Labors,  V.  161-186. 
Kurutli,  M.     Reform  School  at  Bachtelen,  TTT.  596. 

Lactantius.     Cited,  X.  168. 

Lalor,  J.    Nature  and  Objects  of  Education,  XVI. 

33-64. 

Lancaster,  Joseph,  and  Monitorial  Schools,  X.  355. 
Landor,  W,  S.     Roger  Ascham  and  Lady  Jane  Grey, 

m.  39. 

Lange,  R.     Educational  Labors,  IV.  726. 

Lathrop,  J.     Boston   Association  of  Teachers,  XV. 

530. 
Leach,  Daniel.     Public  Schools  of  Providence,  I.  4G1. 

Plan  of  School-houses,  IX.  563. 
Leibnitz.     Cited,  VIII.  57;  X.  133,  134,  168. 
Leigh,  Lord.     Reformatory  Results  of  Mettruy,  HI. 

731. 
Lewis,  Dio.    The  New  Gymnastics,  XI.  531;  XII. 

665. 
Lewis,  Tayler.     Methods   of   Teaching  Greek    and 

Latin,  I.  285,  489. 
Lieber,  F.     The  Cooper  Institute,  I.  652.     History  of 

Atheneums,  H.  735. 
Lindsley,  Philip.    Memoir  and  Views  of  Education, 

VII/26. 

Ling,  H.,  and  the  Swedish  Gymnastics,  XV.  236. 
Lloyd,  Robert.     The  School  Usher,  III.  160. 
Locke,     John.     Views     on     Education,     VI.     209. 

Thoughts   on   Education,    XI.   461;    XIII.   548; 

XIV.  305.     School  of  Labor,  HI.  577. 
Locke,  W.     Ragged  Schools,  HI.  779. 
Longstreet.     School  Scene  in  Georgia,  XVI.  121. 
Lord,  A.  D.     Plan  of  School-house,  IX.  562.     Edu 
cational  Labors,  XVI.  607. 
Lothrop,  S,  K.     VV.  Lawrence  and  the  Academies  of 

New  England,  II.  33. 

Lovell,  John.     Eulogy  on  Peter  Faneuil,  IX.  604. 
Loyola,  and  his  Society  and  System,  V.  213 ;  XIV. 

455. 

Lubinus.     Grammatical  Instruction,  VI.  581. 
Luther.    Views  on  Education,  IV.  421-449.     Physical 

Culture,  Vm.  190.     Cited,  VHI.  15,  78,  356;  X. 

137,  141,  151,  163,  183,  191. 
Lycurgus,  and  Education  among  the  Spartans,  XIV. 

611. 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles.    Physical   Science   in   a  Liberal 

Education,  XVII. 
Lyon,   Mary.     Principles  of  Mt.  Holyoke  Seminary, 

X.  670. 
Lytton,  Sir  E.  B.     Address  at  School  Festival,  HI. 

259. 

Macaulay,  Lord  T.  B.  The  State  and  Education, 
XIH.  721;  XIV.  403.  Competitive  Examina 
tions  for  East  India  Service,  XVII. 

Madison,  James.     The  State  and  Education,  XV.  12. 

Mansfield,  E.  D.  The  Military  Academy  at  West 
Point,  XHI.  17-48. 

Marcel,  C.    Conversational  Method,  XI.  21,  330. 

March,  F.  A.     Study  of  English  Language,  XVI.  599 

Marion,  General.     On  Free  Schools,  XVI.  119. 


24        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD  .S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Mann,  Harare.  Tencheri'  Motive?.  XIV.  277.  Col 
lege  Government,  III,  65.  Special  Training  a  Pre 
requisite  to  Teaching,  XHJ.  507.  Methods  of  Ed 
ucation  in  Germany.  VHI.  3p'2.  Results  of  Normal 
Schools  in  Prussia,  VHI.  301.  Analysis  of  Reports, 
V.  6-23.  Plan  of  District  School-house,  IX  64'2. 
Estimate  of  S.  G.  Howe,  XL  389.  Education  de 
fined,  Xm,  16.  The  State  and  Education,  XELT. 
724 ;  XV.  13.  Normal  Schools,  XVI.  100. 

Mason,  S.  \V.     Physical  Exercise  in  Schools,  XIV.  61. 

Mnwon,  D.  College  and  Self-education,  IV.  262. 
Milton's  Home,  School,  and  College  Training,  XIV. 
159-190. 

Muthews,  J.  D.  Report  on  Schools  of  Kentucky,  TJ. 
493. 

Mny,  S.  J.  Life  and  View*  of  Cyrus  Peirce,  IV.  275. 
Educational  Labors,  XVI.  141. 

M:iyhew,  Ira.  School-houses  of  Michigan,  IX.  515. 
Educational  Labors,  XV.  651. 

McElligott,  J.  N.  Debating  as  a  Means  of  Educa 
tional  Discipline,  I.  495. 

Meierotto.  Method  of  Teaching  Latin,  VT.  609. 
Physical  Culture,  VIII.  19 J. 

Meiring.     On  the  Humiltonian  System,  VI.  592. 

Melancthon.  Life  and  Educational  Services,  IV. 
741-764. 

Memminger,  C.  G.  Schools  of  South  Carolina,  H. 
553. 

Mill,  John  Stuart.  State  and  Education,  Xm.  721. 
University  Education,  XVII. 

Mills,  Caleb.     Report  on  Schools  of  Indiana,  JJ.  480. 

Milton.  Treatise  on  Education,  II.  61.  Education 
defined,  XI.  12.  The  Stale  and  Education,  XELT. 
719.  His  Home,  School,  and  College  Training, 
XIV.  15!». 

Molineux,  E.  L.  Physical  and  Military  Exercises  in 
Schools  a  National  Necessity,  XI.  513. 

Montaigne.    On  Learning  and  Education,  IV.  461. 

Montucln.     Elements  of  Euclid,  VHI.  156. 

More,  Sir  Thomas.  The  State  and  Education,  XLTI. 
719.  Education  of  his  Children,  XVII. 

Morrison,  T.  Manual  of  School  Management,  IX, 
294.  Oral  Lessons,  IX.  3-21. 

Moscherosch.    Cited,  VUJ.  "1 ;  X.  190,  198. 

Moseley,  Canon.  Tripartite  System  of  Instruction, 
IX.  316.  English  Training  Colleges,  X.  543-670. 

Mulcaster,  R.     Positions,  XVII. 

Muller,  Max.  French  and  German  in  Public  Schools, 
XVII. 

Neander,  Michel.     Educational  Labors,  V.  599. 
Niebuhr,  B.  S.     Letter  to  a  Student,  XVI.  215. 
Niebuhr,  J.,  and  Pestalo/.zi,  VII.  289. 
Niemeyer.     Cited,  VHI.  52,  56,  61,  67,  71 ;  X.  118. 
Nieuvenhtiysen,  and  the  Society  fur  the  Public  Good 

in  Holland,  XIV.  641. 
Nisten,  II.     Public  Schools  in  Norway,  VILT.  295. 

Olerlin,  John    Friedrich.    The  Practical   Educator, 

V.  505 ;  XVH. 
Oelmger,  Albert,  and  the  Study  of  German,  XI.  406. 


OJmsted,  Dennison.  Democratic  Tendencies  of  Sci- 
ence,  I.  164.  Ideal  of  n  Teacher ;  Timothy  Dwight 
V.  567. 

Osgood,  S.  G.  Address  at  Dedication  of  School- 
house,  XHL  848, 

Overberg,  B.     Educational  Views,  XUL  365. 

Oweh,  R.     Natural  History  in  Public  Schools,  XVII 

Page,  D.  P.     Memoir  and  Processes  of  Teaching,  V. 

819.     Education  denned,  XHt.  14. 
Paget,  J.     Physiology,  XVH.  119. 
Paley,  Dr.     Education  defined,  XI.  15. 
Palmerston,  Lord.    Popular  Education,  H.  712. 
Park,   Prof.     The   School    of  Locality,   XVI.   331. 

Memoir  of  B.  B.  Edwards,  XIV.  381. 
Parr,  Samuel.     Principles  of  Education,  XI.  17. 
Partridge,  Alden.    Educational  Views,  XHI.  54,  063. 
Pattison.     On  Prussian  Normal  Schools,  XVI.  395. 
Paulet.     System  of  Monitorial  Instruction.  X,  464. 
Payson,  T.     Boston   Association   of  Teachers,   XV. 

533 ;  X.  464. 

Peabody,  George.     Public  Library  of  Baltimore,  TTT, 
Peel,  Sir  R.     Study  of  Classics,  XVII. 

226.     Educational  Benefactions,  XVTI. 
Peet,  II.  P.     New  York  Institution  for  the  Deaf  and 

Dumb,  m.  347.     Memoir,  m.  366. 
Peirce,  B.  K.     Reformatory  for  Girls,  XVI.  652. 
Peirce,  Cyrus.     Ideal  of  Education,  IV.  285.     Normal 

Schools,  IV.  306. 
Perkins,  G.   R.    Labors   in   Normal  Schools,  XTTT. 

544. 

Perry,  Gardner.     On  SchooMiouses,  IX.  520. 
Perry,  W.  P.     Schools  of  Alabama,  JJ.  465. 
Pestulozzi.     Life  and  Educational  System,  HI.  401 ; 

IV,  65.     Pestalozzi  and  the  Schools  of  Germany, 
IX.  343.     Pestalozzi,  Fellenberg,  and  Wehrli,  X. 
81.     Poor  School  at  Neuhof,  TTT.  585.     His  Assist 
ants  and  Disciples,  VII.  285.     Hundredth  Birthday, 

V.  503.     Publications  by  and  relating  to,  VII.  513. 
Selections    from    his   Publications,  VH.   519-7-2-2. 
Evening  Hours  of  a  Hermit,  VI.  169.     Leonhard 
and  Gertrude,  VU.   519.     Christopher  and   Alice, 
VH.  665.     His  Account  of  his  Educational  Expe 
rience  and  Methods,  VII.  671. 

Petrarch,  and  Education  in  Italy,  VTJ.  424. 

Petty,  Sir  W.    Plan  of  a  Trades  School,  1647,  XI.  191 

Peurbach,  G.     Method  of  Arithmetic,  VUJ.  170. 

Phelps,  W.  F.  Normal  Schools,  HJ.  417.  Educa- 
tional  Labors,  V.  7. 

Philbrick,  J.  D.  On  the  National  Teachers'  Associa 
tion,  XIV.  49.  Extracts  from  Reports,  H.  261. 
Report  on  Schools  of  Connecticut,  JJ.  469.  Plans 
of  School-houses,  X.  740;  XVI.  701. 

Phillips.  J.  H.     S-l b  (rf  N. •«  .l.-wy.  U.  517. 

rn  ki  t.  A.    Teachers'  Association,  XV.  493. 

Pierce,  Benjamin.    On  a  National  University.  H.  88. 

Pierpont,  J.     Public  High  School  for  Girls.  XTTT  '244. 

Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham.     Studies  and  Conduct,  XVU. 

Plato.  Cited,  IV.  166;  VETJ.  II,  43,  76-78;  X. 
141,  157,  162,  167,  170,  194;  XL  101,  105;  XII. 
409 ;  XIJJ.  8. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION.       25 


Plutarch.  Views  of  Education,  XI.  99-110.  Cited, 
VEX  77;  X.  118-1D5. 

Poggius,  and  Education  in  Italy,  VII.  442. 

Porter,  J.  A.     Plan  of  an  Agricultural  School,  I.  329. 

Porter,  Noah.  Essay  on  Educational  Reform  in  Con 
necticut,  XIV.  244.  Norwich  Free  Academy,  HI. 
200. 

Potter,  Alonzo.  Consolidation,  &c.,  of  American 
Colleges,  I.  471.  Moral  and  Religious  Instruction, 
II.  169.  School  Houses  in  New  York,  IX.  507. 
Normal  Schools,  XIII.  344.  What  and  How  to 
Read,  H.  215.  Memoir,  XVI.  599. 

Pullicino,  and  Education  in  Italy,  H,  721. 

Pythagoras.  Cited,  VHL  11,  12,  38,  43;  X,  132, 
102,  16G ;  XI.  109 ;  XIII.  8,  81. 

Quincy,  Josiah.     Girls'  High  School  in  Boston,  XIH. 

297.     Phillips'  Academy  in  1778,  XIQ.  740. 
ftuincy,  Josiah,  Jr.     School  Policy  of  Boston,  XII. 

70(5. 
Quintilian.     Views  of  Education,  XI.  3. 

* 

Rabelais,  and  his  Educational  Views,  XIV.  147. 
Ramsauer.     Memoir,  VII.  301.    Life  at  Hofwyl,  IV, 

84,  119. 

Ramsden.     The  Heart  of  a  Nation,  XI.  17. 
Riimusat.     Circular  to  Teachers,  adopted  by  Guizot, 

XI.  278. 
Randall,  S.  S.     On  Francis  Dwight,  V.  809.     Josinh 

Holbrook.     Educational  Labors,  XIII.  227.     New 

York  Normal  School,  Xm.  532. 
Ruphall,  H.  L.    Education  among  the   Hebrews,  I. 

243. 
Rntich.     Life  and  Educational  Methods,  V.  229;  XL 

418.     On  Teaching  Latin,  VI.  586. 
Raumer,  Kivrl  von.     History  of  Education,  q.  v.  under 

SECTION  I.    German  Universities,  VI.  9 ;  VII.  47, 

1(30.     Essays  on  University  Reform,  VH.  200. 
Raumer,   Rudolf.     Instruction  in   the  German   Lan 
guage,  XI.  155,  419-429 ;  XII.  460-527. 
Ravaisaon,  F.     Instruction  in  Drawing,  H.  319. 
Reid,  D.  B.     College  of  Architecture,  H.  629. 
Reisch,  Gregorius.     Margarita  Philosophica,  XVH, 

Roman  System  of  Measures,  XVII. 
Rendu,   Eugen.     Public   Instruction   in   France    and 

Prussia,  II.  337. 
Reuchlin,  and   German   Educators  of  the  Fifteenth 

Century,  V.  65. 

Rice,  V.  M.     Schools  of  New  York,  II.  518. 
Richard,  VV.  F.     Methods  in  the  National  Schools  of 

England,  X.  501-540. 
Richards,    Z.     Discipline,  I.    107.     The  Teacher  an 

Artist,  XIV.  69. 
Richter,  J.  P.    Cited,  VILT.   27,  50,  618;  X.   119- 

199. 
Rickoff,  A.  J.     National  Bureau  of  Education,  XVI. 

299. 
Rider,  Captain.     On  System  of  Navigation  Schools, 

XV.  67. 

Rosenkrantz.     Present  Age  to  the  Educator,  XIL  425. 
Rosmini,  A.    Philosophy  of  Pedagogy,  IV.  491. 


Ross,  William.    Cathechetical  Method,  IX.  368. 

Ross,  W.  P.    Education  among  the  Cherokees,  I.  120 

Rousseau,  and  his  Educational  Views,  V,  459— 18G 
Education  defined,  XIII.  11. 

Rush,  Benjamin.    The  State  and  Education,  XV.  13 

Ruskin,  John.    Material  of  Education,  XL  19. 

Russell,  William.  Principles  and  Methods  of  Intel 
lectual  Education,  H.  113,  317;  III.  47,  311;  IV. 
199.  Moral  Education,  IX.  19-48.  National  Or 
ganization  of  Teachers,  XIV.  7.  Educational  La 
bors  of.  Lowell  Mason,  IV.  141.  Recollections  of 
Josiah  Holbrook,  VIII.  339.  Legal  Recognition 
of  Teaching  as  a  Profession,  X.  297. 

Russell,  W.  H.    Plan  of  Gymnasium,  IX.  534. 

Ruthardt,  J.  C.  Method  of  Teaching  Latin  and 
Greek,  VI.  600. 

Sarmiento,  D.  F.  The  Schoolmaster's  Work,  XVI. 
65.  BasisofU.  S.  prosperity,  XVI.  533.  Educa 
tional  Labors,  XVI.  593. 

Schmid,  Joseph,  and  Pestalozzi,  VLT.  297. 

Schmidt.    Definition  of  Education,  XHL  9- 

Schottelius,  J.  G.     Philological  Labors,  XI,  429. 

Schwartz.     Cited,  VLTL  34,  53 ;  X.  164. 

Sears,  Barnas.     Schools  of  Massachusetts,  H.  498. 

Sears,  E.I.     Henry  Lord  Brougham,  V.  467.     Memoir. 

Sedgwick,  C.  M.     What  and  How  to  Read,  H.  215. 

Seguin,  E.     Treatment  and  Training  of  Idiots,  H;  145. 

Seneca.     Cited,  Vm.  12-68 ;  X.  135-196 ;  XII.  409. 

Seton,  S.  S.    Extracts  from  Manual,  XIII.  858. 

Shea,  J.  G.     Catholic  Institutions  in  the  U.  S.,  435. 

Shearman,  F.  W.     Schools  in  Michigan,  H.  510. 

Sheldon,  E.  A.     Object  Teaching,  XIV.  93. 

Shenstone,  William.  The  Schoolmistress,  with  An 
notations,  m.  449. 

Shnrtleff,  N.  B.     Boston  Latin  School,  XII,  559. 

Shuttleworth,  Sir  J.  K.  Educational  Progress  in  En 
gland,  m.  245.  Vehrli,  HI.  392.  Training 
Schools,  IX.  171-200. 

Sidney,  Sir  H.     On  Conduct,  XV,  378. 

Simonson,  L.  Cadet  System  in  Switzerland,  XILT. 
693. 

Simpson,  J.     Education  defined,  XLTI.  13. 

Slade,  William.     Education  at  the  West,  XV.  274. 

Smith,  Adam.     The  State  and  Education,  XIH.  720 

Smith,  B.  B.     Visit  to  Radleigh  School,  IV.  803. 

Smith,  Elbridge.    Norwich  Free  Academy,  III.  208. 

Smith,  Goldwin.     History,  XVII.  119. 

Smith,  H.  B.     The  Dutch  Universities,  I.  387. 

Smyth,  Sidney.     Objects  of  Education,  XIII.  12. 

Snell,  E.  S.    The  Gyroscope,  LT.  701. 

Socrates.  Cited,  IV.  156;  VLTI.  77;  X.  167,  187; 
XL  61,  62,  103,  107.  Methods  of  Philosophy,  X. 
375. 

South,  R.     Educational  Viewi,  XVII. 

Southey,  Robert.  The  State  and  Education,  XLTI. 
719.  Views  of  Home  Education,  XVI.  433.  Con 
duct  and  Knowledge,  XVI.  223. 

Spencer,  Herbert.  Thoughts  on  Education,  XL  485- 
512;  Xin.  372-400. 

Spencer,  J.  C.    Education  of  Teachers,  XTTT,  342 


26        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Sprngue,  W.  B.     Influence  of  Yale  College,  X.  681. 
Spurzheim.     Mutual  Instruction,  X,  till.     Education 

defined,  Xm.  H. 

Stanley,  Lord.     Lyceums  and  Popular  Edu..  HI.  241. 
Stephens,  L.     Normal  Schools  of  Prussin,  VlLT.  308. 
Stewart,  Unpaid.     Ol.jerts  of  Education,  XIII.  13. 
Stifler,  Michael,  and  Algebraic  Signs,  XVI. 
Stiles,  VV.  H.     Education  in  Georgia,  LT.  477. 
Stow,  David.     Gallery  Training  Lessons  IX.  413. 
Stowe,  C.  E.    Life  and  Labors,  V.  586.     Educational 

Wants  of  Ohio.  V.   588.     Primary   Instruction  in 

Germany,  Vm.  371.  Teachers'  Seminary,  XV.  68*. 
Sturm,  J.  Life  and  Educational  Labors,  IV.  1«>7,  401. 
Sullivan,  O.  Teaching  the  Alphabet.  XLT.  601. 

Premiums  for  Knowledge  in  Com.  Things,  X.  93. 
Swett,  John.  Educational  Labors,  XVI.  025.  790. 
Swift,  J.  On  Manners,  XVLT. 

Tafel,  L.    The  Hamiltnnian  System,  VI.  591. 
Tappan,  H.  P.     Educational  Development  in  Europe, 

I.  247-268.     Educational  Labors,  XTTT  452. 
Tarbox,  I.    N.     Statistics  of  New  England  Colleges, 

I.  405.     American  Education  Society,  XTV.  367. 
Tasso.     Memoir  and  Educational  Views,  XVII. 
Temple,  F.     Literature  and  Science,  XVLT. 
Tenney,  Jonathan.     Schools  of  New  Hampshire,  LT. 

511.     Memoir,  XVI.  761. 

Teutleben,  K.  von,  and  Society  of  Usefulness,  XI.  424. 
Timer,  August,  and  Gymnastics,  VIII.  197. 
Thnyer,  G.  F.     Letters  to  a  Young  Teacher,  I.  357; 

II.  103,  31)1,  057  ;  HI.  71,  313  ;  IV.  219.  450 ;  VI. 
435;  Vm.  81.    Chauncey  Hall  School,  XLTI.  851. 

Thayer,  S.    Com|»etitivc  Examination,  XV.  5ti. 
Thibaut.     On  Purity  in  Music,  X.  635. 
Thompson,  A.     Industrial  School.  HI.  780. 
Tice,  J.  H.     Public  Schools  of  St.  Louis,  I.  348. 
Tillinghast,  Nicholas.  N  As  an  Educator,  LT.  568.    On 

Normal  Schools,  XVI.  453. 
Timbs,  John.     Endowed  Schools  of  England,  VHI. 

261.    The  Hornbook,  XII.  687. 
Tixier,  J.     School  Dialogues,  XVI.  445. 
Tobler,  J.  G.     Methods  of  Teaching.  V.  210. 
Town,  Salem.     Schools  as  they  were.  XLTI.  737. 
Trask,  A.  B.     Town  School  of  Dorchester,  XVI.  105. 
Trench,  R.     English  Language.  XVLT. 
Trotzendorf,  V.  F.     Educational  Views,  V.  107. 
Turk,  R.  C.  W.  von.    V.  155. 
Turner,  Sydney.     Reformatory  Schools,  ITT,  772. 
Tyndall.     Study  of  Physics,  XVLT. 

Vail,  T.  H.    Methods  of  Using  Books,  LT.  215. 
Vassar,  M.     Plan  of  Vassar  Female  College,  XL  55. 
Vehrli.    Hofwyl  and  Kruitzlingen,  LIT.  3rt»:  X.  PL 
Verplanck,  J.  C.    Memoir  of  D.  H.  Ilnrnp*.  XIV.  -r>13. 

Scientific  Knowledge  and  Bu-ino-i.  V.  116. 
Vinci,  Leonardo  di.     Drawing,  H.  425. 

Wadsworth,  James.     Labors  of  Education.  V.  395. 
Watts,  Isaac.     Improvement  of  the  Mind.  LT.  215. 
Webster,   Daniel.      Normal   Schools,  I.   590.      Free 
Schoolf,  I.  591.     Education  defined,  XLTI.  14. 


Wayland,  Francis.    Objects  and  Methods  of  Intellect 
ual  Education   Xm.  H)l.     Dedicatory  Address  at 
Pawtucket,  VLTI.  843.     Educational   Labors  and 
Publications,  XLTI.  771.     Extracts  on  Method  of 
Recitation— System  of  University  Educat ion— Sys 
tem  of  Public  Schools  for  a  City — The  Library  in 
Popular  Education— Theological  Education— Moses 
Stuart— Dr.  Nott— Thomas  K.  Arnold— YTTT  776. 
Webster,  Noah.     Schools  as  they  were,  XHL  123. 
Weld,  Theodore  D.,  and  Manual  Labor,  XV.  -'34. 
Wells,  W.  H.     Life  and  Educational  Labors,  VLTI. 
52U.    Teachers'  Conferences,  XITT.  272.    Teach 
ing  English  Grammar,  XV.  241.     Exercises  on  Re 
tiring  from  Chicago  High  School,  XIV.  811. 
Wessel,  John.     Educational  Views,  IV.  714. 
VVhately,  Archbishop.     Annotations  on  Bacon,  XLTI. 

103.     Education  defined,  XL  18. 
Whewell,  W.     Education   defined,  XL  11.     School 

Studies  and  University  Examinations,  XVLT. 
White,  E.  E.    National  Bureau  of  Edu..  XVI.  177. 
White,  H.  R.     The  Vilhige  Matron.  HI.  400. 
White,  S.  H.    National  Bureau  of  Edu.,  XV.  180. 
Wicliern,  T.  H.     Reformatory  Education,  HI.  5,  G03. 
Wickcrsham,  J.  P.     Education  ns  an  Element  of  Re 
construction  of  the  Union,  XVI.  283. 
Wilbur,  H.  B.     On  Object  Teaching,  XV.  189. 
Wilderspin,  S.     Infant  School,  IX.  531 ;  XLTI.  163. 
Wiley.  C.  H.     Schools  of  North  Carolina,  LT.  527. 
Wilhrd,  Mrs.  Emma.     Female  Education,  VL  125. 

Female  Association,  XV.  612. 

Willm,  J.    The  Monitorial  System,  X.  466.    Teach 
ers'  Libraries,  XLTI.  293,  298. 

Wimmer,  H.     Public  Instruction  in  Saxony,  V.  350; 
IX.  201.     Educational  Intelligence,  HI.  272 ;  IV. 
243,  793.    On  Real  Schools  of  Austria,  TTT  275. 
Winthrop,  R.  C.     Free  Schools,  I.  645. 
Wise,  Henry  A.     Schools  of  Virginia,  LT.  557. 
Wiseman,  Cardinal.     Education  of  the  Poor,  XVLT. 
Wohlfarth,  J.   F.    F.     Pedagogical  Treasure  Casket, 

VLTI.  H-80;  X.  116-290. 
Wolf,  T.  A.     Educational  Views,  VL  260. 
Wolsey,  Curdinal.  Plan  forGrammar  School,  VLT.4P7. 
Wnodhridge,    W.     Suggestions  on    School  Improve 
ments,  XV.  6C9.    Reminiscences  of  Female  Educa 
tion  prior  to  1801,  XVI.  137. 
Woodbridge,  W.  C.     Life  and  Educational  Labors, 

V.  51.    Education  defined.  XLTI.  16. 
Woolsey,  T.  D.     Historical  Discourse  on  Yule  Col 
lege,  V.  546.     Norwich  Free  Academy,  TTT,  197. 
Wordsworth,  W.     State  and  Education,  XHL  719. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry.     Survey  of  Edura.,  XV.  123-141 
Wyatt,  Sir  T.     On  Conduct.     XV.  37f,. 
Wykeham,  and  Winchester  College,  VLTI.  261. 

Young.  Snmuol.     S-hool«  of  New  York,  IX.  505. 
Young,  T.  U.    Infant  School  Teaching,  XTT.  155. 

« 
Zeller,  C,  II.    Teaching?  of  Exj>erience  for  Christian 

Schools,  HL  386.     Memoir,  VTTT  305. 
Zoroaster.    Cited,  X.  167. 
Zschokke.    Cited,  VTTT  21,  30,  51 ;  X.  142-196. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION.        27 


A  B  C-shooters,  V.  90,  (>03 ;  books,  XLT.  593. 
Absence,  H  444,  504  ;  V.  631 ;  XV.  293. 
Academy,  plan  for,  XVI.  403. 
Accuracy,  XILT.  515. 
Acquisition,  XLU,  512. 
Acting  plays,  IV.  175  ;  VII.  503  ;  XIV.  474. 
Activity,  independent,  VIII.  617  ;  XIH.  13,  376. 
Adult  education,  I.  634  ;  VIII.  -30  ;  XVI.  343. 
Advice  to  Students  on  Studies  and  Conduct,  XIH. 
193;  XV.  377;  XVI.  186,  216,  223.     Lord  Bacon, 


III.    STUDIES  AND  METHODS ;  SCHOOL  ORGANIZATION  AND  DISCIPLINE. 

Boy-tutors,  XVI.  227. 

Burgher,   or  Citizens'  School,  VILT.  414 ;    IX.  210, 

384  ;  XL  248  ;  XLT.  520. 
Benschenschaff,  VII.  80,  91,  165. 
Calisthenics,  H.  405. 

Catechism  on  Methods,  from  Diesterweg,  IV.  233,  505. 
Catechetical  Method,  VV.  Ross,  IX.  367. 
Character,  X.  129;  XIII.  571. 
Chemistry,  V.  712  ;  VII.  277  :  VIII.  665  ;  XI.  210; 

xm.  s»i. 

XVI.  186;  Sir  Thomas  Bodleigh,  XV.  381;  Lord    Childhood,  IV.  424;    V.  467;    VII.  382;    XL  483; 
Brougham,   XVI.    186;    Carlyle,   XVI.    191;   Sir        XLL  629;  XVI.  193. 
Matthew  Hide.  XVLT;   Niebuhr,  XVI.  216;   Sir     Chiding,  XHI.  559. 
H.  Sidney,  XV.  379 ;    Southey,  XVI.   233;   Vail,    Church-cross-row,  XVH.  195. 

H.  215;  Whately,  XHI,  106;  Wyatt,  XV.  377.       Christianity  in  Schools,   I.  251;    H.  567,  693;    IV. 
Algebra,  H.  177.  527,  572  ;  V.  77  ;  XHI.  118,  287,  325. 

Christmas  Festival,  X.  26U;  XLH.  95. 
42 ;    V.  449  ;   X.  25(5  ;   XHL  93  ;     Chronological  Method.  IV.  515. 

City  Influence,  LH.  323.   VH.  33,  240;   VHL  143; 
IV.        XV.  309. 

Classical  Instruction,  by  Ascham,  XL  70;  I.  Cady, 
XH.  561;  David  Cole,  I,  67:  Erasmus,  IV.  729; 
T.  Lewis,  I.  285;  Raumer,  VH.  471;  Sturm,  IV. 
]69;  Woolsey,  VH.  487. 
Aphorisms  on  Studies  and  Conduct,  XV.  376;  Sub-     Collective  Teaching,  X.  395. 

jects   of  Instruction,  X.  141;  Discipline  X,   187;     Common  Things,  by  Lord  Ashburton,  I.  629;  Morri- 
Early  Training,  XHI.  79. 
Appetites,  X.  137  ;  XIH  512,  578;  XVI,  53. 
Aptness  to  teach,  XHI,  762. 
Archery,  HI.  41 ;  XVI.  496. 


Alphabet,  Modes  of  Teaching.  XII.  593. 
Amusements, 

XIV.  474. 
Analysis  and   Analytic   Method,  U,  122,  133 

505;  VIII.  169;  IX.  205. 
Anger,  XI,  482,  504. 

Anglo-Saxon  Language,  I.  33;  XVI.  568. 
Anthropology,  XIII.  327. 


Architectural  Game,  XI.  27. 


son,  IX.  321 ;  Stow,  IX,  413 ;  Specimen  Lessons, 

X.  105,  575 ;  IX.  349. 
Competitive   Examination,   by   Barnard,  XIV.  108; 

Booth,  HE.  267. 
Common  Sense,  V.  476;  XHI.  599. 


Arithmetic,  Currie,  IX.  247;  Hill.  VI.  454;  Gilles-    Composition,  HI.  331;    VHL  387  ;    X.  415;  XI. 

pie,  I.  539 ;  Raumer,  VLH.  170 ;  Richards,  X.  534.        122  ;  XH.  494  ;  XIV.  363 :  XVI.  641. 
Art— as  a  Study,  by  Miss  A.  M.  Dwight.  H. 

HI.  467 ;  IV.  191 ;  V.  305. 


3,  587 ;     Compulsion  in   attendance,  XL  266  ;    in  study,  VII. 
213 ;  XHI.  373. 


Art  and  Science,  by  Dana,  H.  349;  Raumer,  X.  218.    Conduct,  IV.  161  ;    X.  141 ;    XHI.  79 ;  XV.  123, 


Attendance,  Barnard,  XV.  293. 
Ball-frame,  IX,  255  ;  XI,  24. 
Basedow's  Methods,  V.  487. 
Beans  in  Arithmetic.  VI.  454. 


378;  XVI.  191. 
Conversation,  XL  106,  339;  XHI,  556;  XIV.  360; 

XV.  152  ;  XVI.  682. 

Conversational  Method,  by  Marcel,  XL  106,  339. 
Beating  of  Children,  IV.  156,  165  ;  V.  509;  XL  479.     Constructive  Method,  by  Abbenrode,  IV.  507. 
Bible,  H.  613;    Arnold,  IV.  443  ;   Locke,  XH.  471  ;    Corporal    Punishment,     Bell,    X.    486;    Diesterweg, 

619;    Erasmus.    XVI.    680;    Goldsmith, 
352  ;    Johnson,  XHI.  363;    Locke,  XHI. 
5f>3;  Austria,  XVI.  614,  690;  England,  HI.  157. 


XIV.  308  ;   Luther,  IV.  443  ;    Raumer,  VH.  402  ; 

VHL  104 ;  Whately,  XHI.  108. 
Bifurcation,  XH.  47. 

Biographical  Method  in  History,  IV.  514,  577. 
Biology,  XHI.  392. 
Bipartite  Organization,  XTTT,  150. 
Birch,  LH,  462  ;  V.  509. 


Country  Training,  HI.  323  :  V.  472 ;  X.  644  ;  XTTT 

141 ;  XV.  303. 
Counters,  VHL  182 

Courage,  IX.  41 ;  X.  57  ;  XHI.  5R4  ;  XVI.  57. 
Blackboard  or  surface,  V.   499;   X.  600;    XH.  648;    Crime  and  Education,  IV.  579;    VI,  311,  494;   XL 

XLH.  32.  77. 

Blocks  in  Geometry,  VI.  451.  Curiosity,  H.  118 ;  V.  477 ;  XHI.  112,  572. 

Books,  Value  of,  H.  205,  215;   X,  158;  XHI.  788;     Debating,  by  J.  M.  Elligott.  I.  495. 

XVI.  191. 

Book-learning,  H.  561;  VH.  2G7,  366;  XLH.  837. 
Borough-road  School  Methods,  X.  381. 
Botany,  VH.  296 ;  VTTT  126 ;  IX,  77, 109  ;  X.  640 ; 
XL  46. 


Discipline,  by  Diesterweg,  VIH,  619;  Locke, 
557;  Hamill,  I.  122;  Spencer,  XL  498;  Thayer, 
VI.  435 ;  XHI.  831 ;  Dorchester  School  in  1645, 
XVI.  106;  Hopkins  Grammar  School,  1684,  IV.  710. 

Drawing,  by  HenUchel,  X.  59  ;  Ravaison,  n.  419. 


28        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD  8  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


English  Language  and  Literature,  by  Buckhnm, 
XIV.  343;  XVI.  556;  Day,  XVI.  641;  G.bbs, 
II.  193;  m.  1"!  ;  Hart,  I.  33;  Felton,  X.  284; 
March,  XVI.  502  ;  Wells  XV.  145. 

Fagging  in  English  Schools.  IV.  569 ;  V.  80 ;  XV.  107. 

French  Language,  XV.  772. 

German  Language,  XI.  155,  400 ;  XII.  460. 

Geography — .Methods  of  Teaching,  by  Abbenrode, 
IV.  505 ;  Currie.  IX.  269 ;  Dunn,  X.  421 ;  Hill, 
VII.  275;  Key.  IX.  186 ;  Mann,  VTTT  390;  Mar 
cel.  XI.  3T»;  Pestalozzi,  X.  150;  Phelps,  IX.  0-.' ; 
Raunur,  VIH.  3  ;  Thayer,  VHI.  81. 

Geometry,  Busedow,  V,  5J2  ;  Diesterwes,  IV.  239 ; 
Euclid.  Vm.  155;  Gillespie,L  541  ;  Hill,  VI.  191, 
449;  Uniiiiier,  Vffl.  155;  Saucer.  YTTT,  383. 

Geology  IV.  785;  VI.  238 ;  VII.  71,  203;  VTJJ. 
241  ;  XL  40. 

Gradation  of  Schools.  TJ.  455. 

Greek  Language,  XII.  501 ;  I.  284,  482. 

Grouping  Method  in  History,  IV.  515. 

Gymnastics,  Lewis'  System,  XI.  53J  ;  XII.  665. 

History,  Method  in,  by  Abbenrode,  IV.  512  :  XLT. 
665;  Arnold,  IV.  565;  Basedow,  V.  503;  Hill, 
VI.  184;  VII.  490;  Marcel,  XI.  41;  Niemeyer, 
X.  156 ;  Raumer,  VIII.  101  ;  X.  64J  ;  Uichter, 
X.  154  ;  Whntely,  XILI.  H'J. 

Intellectual  Training,  by  Eliot,  XVI.  488;  Fellen- 
berg,  TTT  594  ;  Goldsmith,  XTTT  347  ;  Hill,  VI. 
180;  Kriisi,  V.  187;  Lalor,  XVI.  40;  Locke, 
XTV.  305;  Milton,  IJ.  79;  Montaigne,  IV.  161; 
Pestalozzi,  VII.  512 ;  Uuintilian,  XI.  3  ;  Riiumer, 
VILT.  81;  Rousseau,  V.  459;  Russell,  TJ.  112: 
Sjieucer,  XI.  484  :  Xm.  37'J ;  VVaylnnd,  XIII. 
801. 

Infant  Schools  and  Instruction,  Currie,  IX.  228; 
Froebel,  H.  449  ;  IV.  237;  Home  and  Colonial  So 
ciety,  Xm.  78;  Marcel,  XL  21;  Prussian 
Schools,  VHI.  371 ;  Raumer,  VII.  381 ;  Young, 
XIV.  165. 

Intuitional  Instruction,  IV.  233  ;  XII.  411. 

Italian  Language,  VIL  434,  459. 

Itinerating  Schools,  VIII.  296. 

Jesuit  System  of  Schools,  V.  212;  XIV,  455. 

Kindergarten,  IV.  257. 

Lacedamonian  System.  TTT,  85  ;  XIV.  612. 

Lancasterian  System,  X.  402. 

Latin  Language,  by  Acquaviva,  XIV.  462 ;  Arnold, 
IV.  564;  A>ham,  XI.  70;  Bates,  XV.  155;  Co- 
meniiis,  VI.  585:  Erasmus,  IV.  729;  Gesner,  V. 
744;  VI.  583;  Hamilton,  VI.  58(5;  Herder,  VI. 
207  ;  Hoole,  XVIJ.  2-J5 ;  Jacotot,  VI.  5<»5 ;  Ja 
cobs,  VI.  612:  Locke,  XIV.  311 ;  Luther,  IV.  44  ; 
Melancthon,  IV.  755,  764  ;  Meierotto,  VI.  •>:|  li(;'' : 
Meiring.  VI.  592;  Milton.  TJ.  7!) :  M«nitaigno.  IV. 
473  ;  VI.  5*4  ;  Ratich,  V.  234  :  VI.  >6 :  Raumor, 
VI.  ;~>--l  :  VIJ.  »71  ;  Rousseau,  V.  473  ;  Ruthardt, 
VI.  600;  Sturm,  IV.  169;  VI.  581  ;  Tnfel.  VI. 
591  ;  Texlor,  XV.  444  ;  Trapp,  VI.  2»>1  ;  Vossius, 
VI.  .V2  ;  Wolf  VI.  268  ;  Woolsey,  VIJ.  487. 

Latin  Pronunciation.  XV.  171. 

Lectures  and  University  Teaching,  Barnard,  V.  775 ; 


Johnson,   XTTT,  363;  Mnvion.  IV.   271;  Raumer, 

VIJ.  201.  i>13;  Vaughn,  IV.  271  ;  Wolf.  VIJ.  487. 
Liberal  Education  and  Studies,  B-ites,  XV.  155;  Ev 
erett,  VTTT.  304  ;  Felton,  X.  281. 
Madras  System,  X.  467. 
Manners,  Hopkins,  XI.  930;  Locke,  VI.  213  ;  XIU. 

551  ;  Montaigne,  IV.  409  ;  Thayer,  TJ.  103  ;  1  lu- 

tarch,  XI,  106. 

Mathematics,  French  Polytechnic  system.  I.  533. 
Memory,  IJ-  385;  IV,   171,  201,  7-21;  V.  678.  VI. 

464,602;    VU.  27U;    X-  12li;   XH.  4 Hi;   XIV. 

87,  321,  469 ;  XVU.  230. 
Mental  Arithmetic,  II.  301  ;  VHJ.  385,  459. 
Mental  Science,  by  J.  Haven,  HJ.  125. 
Methods,  Essays  on,  by  Currie,  IX.  229:  DieMerweg, 

IV  233,  505;    Dunn,  X.  391 ;  Morrison,  IX.  294  ; 

Raumer,  VHJ.  101  ;  Richards.  X.  505 ;  Ross,  IX. 

367;    S|iencer,  XUJ.  372;    Thayer,  HJ.  313;  IV. 

219,  450. 

Military  Exercises  in  School,  by  Molineux.  XL  513. 
Monitorial  System.  English  National  Schools.  X.  503; 

Irish  National  Schools.  XHJ.  150. 
Moral  Education,    Brooks,   I.  336;   Cowdery,  XVI. 

323;  Fellenberg,  HJ.  595 ;  Lalor,  XVI.  48 ;  Locke, 

XI-  473;  XUJ.  548;    Russell.  IX.  19;  Spencer, 

XI.  4%. 

Music,  or  Singing,  VLTL  633  :  IX.  267  :  XVI.  38. 
Mutual   Instruction,  Bell,  X.  491 ;    De  Gcrando,   X. 

465;  Fowle,  X.  611 ;   Keenan,  X.  462;  Lancaster, 

X.  402. 

Mother  Tongue,  UJ.  327  ;  IV.  473 ;  V.  235,  246. 253 ; 
•    VI.    1!I7.  201;    VH.   375;    XI.  458;    XII.  46-1; 

XIV.  343  :  XVI.  340. 
Motives  to  Study,  Lyton.IJL  295;  Mann.  XLTJ.  518; 

XVI.  279;    Rousseau,  V.  477;    Spencer,  XIII. 

377  ;  Thayer.  VI.  435. 
Natural  Science,  IV.  445;  VUL  '23;  X.  145:  XV. 

i>5  ;  XVI.  528. 
Number,  Early  Sessions  In,  TJ.  132;    V.  188;    VU. 

698;  IX.  247,  467;  XL  24. 
Natural  History,  Dawson,  HJ.  428. 
Natural  Consequences  of  Actions,  the  Law  of  Disci 
pline.  Spencer,  XL  498. 
New  Gymnastics,  XI.  531  ;  XU.  665. 
Object  Teaching,  Bacon,  V.  674.  f>80  ;  Calkin*.  XLL 

633;   Comenius,  V.  680;    Halm,  V.  696 ;    Hecker, 

V.  693,  696;    Henzky,  V.  694;    Hoole.  XU.  647; 

Gesner,  V.  748  ;    Greene,  X.  245 ;  Lorke,  VI.  220; 

Marcel,  XL  21 ;  Oswego  System,  XU.  604  ;  XIV. 

93;    Pestalozzi,  V.  7(i;    Ratich,  V.  689;  Semler, 

V.  691;   Sheldon.  XIV.  93;  SjKMiror.  XHJ.  378; 

Wilbur,  XV.  189. 

Oral  Teachins,    Barnard.   V.  777:    Currie.  IV.  104; 
M   V.  '-'TO;    Mnrr-pl.  XI.  31,  330;    Morrison, 

IX.  :«»:»-  321  :  Wolf  VI.  272;  Vnii»h.  IV.  271. 
lYi.m.u.sl.ip.  Everett.  IV.  452 :    XIJ.  556;  Mulhau- 

»en,  X.  524;    Niebuhr,  XVI.  207;    Raumer,  X. 

626 ;  Thayer,  IV.  450. 
Perception  and  Perceptive  Faculties,  Bacon,  XU.  42; 

Hill.  XJV.   86;  Marcel,  XL  21;  Raumer,  VTLT. 

207  ;  Russell,  IJ.  113,  316 ;  Spencer,  XUJ.  396. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


29 


Physical  Education,  Aphorisms,  VLTI.  75 ;  Aristotle, 

XIV.  140 ;    Ascham,  LLT.  41  ;    Bandow,  V.  510 ; 

Beecher,  II.  399 ;    Comenius,  V.  281 ;    Currie,  XI. 
•  233  ;  Elyot,  XVI.  490,  Fellenherg,  HI.  596  ;  Guts- 

muths,  VLTI.  191;  Jalm,VLTI.  190;  Lalor,  XVI. 

34  ;  Locke,  XI.  402 ;  Lorinser,  VLLT.  187 ;  Luther, 

IV.  448;  VIII.  190;  Lycurgus,  XIV.  620;  Mann, 

Mason,  XIV.  01  ;  Milton(  LT.  83  ;  Montaigne,  IV. 

465;    Pestalozzi,  VILT.  192;    Plutarch,  XI.  105; 

Quintilian,  XI.   118;    Rabelais,  XIV.  149;  Rau- 

mer,  VLTI.   185;    Rousseau,  V.  475,  VLTI.    185; 

Spencer,  XI.  485;    Trotzendorf,  V.  112;  Vehrli, 

ILL  390,  394 ;  English  Public  Schools,  XV.  105. 
Pictures  in  School-books,  IV.  509  ;  V.  506,  512  ;  VI. 

585 ;  XLT.  647. 

Picturing-out  Method.  IX.  413,  424. 
Pleasure  in  Study  and  Work,  VI.  464  ;  XLTI.  386, 

488,  587. 
Pleasure-grounds  of  Knowledge,   XILT.  121 ;    XVI. 

438. 

Play-state  of  Childhood,  XILT.  93. 
Physiology,  V.  499,  512 ;  XI.  49 ;  XVI.  44. 
Plays   and   Pastimes,   V.    284;    X.  259;    XI.  490; 

XLTI.  93,  539,  594 ;  XIV.  474. 
Poetry,  Study  of,  LT.  82  ;  LLT.  329  ;  VI.  220,  226,  467, 

517  ;  VLLT.  226  ;    X.  161 ;    XI.  509  ;  XLLT.  117  ; 

XVI.  47. 
Political  Science,  LT.  82  ;  HI.  82;  V.  513  ;  IX.  105; 

XL  214 ;  XIV.  135,  326. 
Posture  in  Devotion.  IV.  29  ;  VTTT,  631. 
Pouring-in  Method,  V.  819. 
Powers  to  be  Educated,  Hill,  XLV.  84. 
Practicality,  IV.  477  ;    V.  48J  ;  X.  129,  414  ;    XLLT. 

13,  103,812. 

Praise,  VLH.  618  ;  XVI.  62. 
Prayers  in  Colleges,  H.  002 ;  IV.  23 ;  V.  515. 
Precocity,  V.  473,  749  ;   XL  492,  508. 
Prize  Schemes,  1.629;   H.  708;   HI.  249,  255;    V. 

226 ;  VI.  287. 

Printing-press,  uses  of  to  Bovs,  IX,  636. 
Private  Schools,  H.  719  ;  VI.  213 ;  XIH,  553. 
Progression,  XVI.  043. 
Progressives  of  the  16th  Century,  VI.  463. 
Promotion  by  merit,  XHI.  667  ;  XV.  92.          ^ 
Pronunciation  of  English,  IV.  226 ;  XIV,  354;   of 

Greek  and  Latin,  IV.  226  ;  XV.  171. 
Public   Schools   in   England,  VIH.  257 ;    XV.  81 ; 

XVI.  501,  567. 
Public  Schools  and  Private  Schools',  XI.  114  ;  XLLT. 

361  ;  XV.  323. 
Punctuality,  H.  059  ;  V.  520. 
Pupil-Teachers,  IV.  191  ;  X,  385,  504. 
Puzzling  Pupils,  XIV.  313. 
Quadriennium,  XIV.  172. 
Quadrivium,  I.  254  ;  VI.  21. 
Quick-wits,  XI.  58. 

Questions  for  Examining  a  School,  I.  686  ;  X.  449. 
Ratio  Studiorum,  of  the  Jesuits,  XIV.  462. 
Reaction,  Law  of,  XI.  493,  502. 
Real  Schools,  VI.  248  ;  V.  661,  674,  691 ;  VLU.  508 ; 

IX.  247 ;  XTV.  425  ;  XV,  440,  767. 


Reading,  Methods  of  Instruction,  Currie,  IX.  273, 
277;  Dunn,  X.  399;  Harwich,  VLTI.  436;  Hon- 
camp,  IV.  234;  Lloyd,  IV.  225;  Locke,  VI.  219, 

XIV.  304;    Morrison,  IX-  307;    Olivier,  V.  508 ; 
Prinsen,  VLLT.  6J2;  Quintilian,  XL  120  ;  Burner, 
X.  624  ;    XII.  473 ;    Thayer,  IV.  218  ;    Wilbur, 

XV.  201. 

Reasoning  with  Children,  V.  471  ;  XLLT.  562. 

Reflection  and  Reflective  Faculties,  Marcel,  XI.  33; 
Russell,  IV.  198,  309. 

Religion  and  Religious  Instruction,  Acquaviva,  XIV. 
471 ;  Arnold,  IV.  559  ;  Bible,  X.  167  ;  Basedow, 
V.  501,  513;  Brooks,  I.  336;  Burgess,  LT.  562; 
Currie,  IX.  284;  Cousin,  XILT.  287;  Comenius, 
V.  226  ;  Cowdery,  XVI.  323  ;  Dunn,  X.  427 ;  Fel- 
lenberg,  XILT.  325;  Fisher,  X.  180;  Hegel,  X. 
171;  Hoole,  XVLT.  238;  Huntington,  IV.  23; 
Kriisi,  V.  195;  Lalor,  XVI.  49;  Lindsley,  VLT. 
35;  Locke,  XIV.  308;  Luther,  X.  183;  Nie- 
meyer,  X.  132,  173,  177,  184  ;  Plato,  X.  170 ;  Pes 
talozzi,  X.  175,  182 ;  Potter,  LT.  154,  162 ;  Pytha  • 
goras,  X.  167 ;  Randall,  LT.  156 ;  Raumer,  VLT. 
401;  X.  241,;  Richards,  X.  512;  Socrates,  X.  169 ; 
Thayer,  ILL  71  ;  Zchokke,  X.  169,  176. 

Religion  in  Public  Schools  of  Baden,  X.  206;  Bava 
ria,  VI.  281  ;  VLTI.  501 ;  England,  IV.  559,  573  ; 
X.  513;  XV.  101);  XVI.  670;  Greece,  XLT.574; 
Holland,  XIV.  642,  693 ;  Hanover,  XV-  426,  769  ; 
Ireland,  XI.  137,  152  ;  Jesuit  Schools,  XIV.  471 ; 
Prussia,  VLLT.  420  ;  Scotland,  IX.  222. 

Requisitions  and  Prohibitions,  XILT.  851, 

Rewards  in  School,  VI.  212,  435  ;  XL  480. 

Rote-learning,  V.  247,  474 ;  VI.  405  ;  VLT.  405*; 
XLT.41G;  XIH.  113,373. 

Rules  for  School  Attendance,  XIV.  816  ;  Good  Be 
havior,  VLLT.  613  ;  X.  438  ;  XLLT.  171,  549,  851 ; 
Hopkins'  Grammar  School,  IV.  710;  Dorchester 
School,  XVI.  106. 

Science  in  Schools,  I.  164,  514;  LT.  66,  81,  349,  447; 
LLT.  147,  265 ;  IV.  757 ;  V.  671,  779 ;  VI.  233, 
448 ;  XILT.  399. 

Science  and  Art,  I.  102,  315,  388  ;   LT.  715  ;  X,  218. 

Simultaneous  Method,  IX.  299. 

Socratic  Method,  IX.  375  ;  Currie,  IX.  283. 

Spelling,  Dunn,  X.  409;  Richards,  X.  517;  Thayer, 
LTI.  312. 

Studies,  True  Order  of,  Hill,  VI.  180,  449  ;  VI.  273, 
491  ;  Spencer,  XILT.  374. 

Synthetical  Method,  IV.  504. 

Synchronistical  Method  in  History,  IV.  515. 

Text-books,  Catalogue  of  American,  XILT,  208,  401, 
627  ;  XIV.  601,  753. 

Topical  Method  in  Geography,  VLTI.  82. 

Tripartite  Organization,  IX.  316  ;  XILT.  149. 

Turners  and  Turning  System,  VLT.  92  ;   VLLT,  189. 

Unconscious  Tuition,  I.  141. 

Utility  of  Studies,  LT.  386  ;  V.  479;  XV.  101. 

Virtue,  V.  494  ;  VLLT.  10;  X.  167  ;  VLLT.  550. 

Will,  V.  511,  671 ;  IX.  37  ;  V.  137  ;  XTV.  472,  617. 

Writing  and  Reading,  IV.  234  ;  VLT,  694 ;  *TT.  477. 

Writing  and  Drawing,  VLTI,  388. 


30 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOUANAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


IV.    TEArilKRS;  FORMAL  AM)  MODEL  SCHOOLS ;  TKACIIEK*'  LVSTITTTEB, 


The  School  nnd  the  Teacher  in  English  Literature, 
UX  155,  449;  IV.  «3;  VUJ.  283;  XVI.  432. 

Legal  Recognition  of  Teaching  as  a  Profession  ;  Me 
morial,  X.  297-308. 

The  Teacher  us  an  Artist,  by  Z.  Richards,  XIV.  69 

The  Teacher's  Motives,  by  Horace  Mann,  XIV.  277. 

Essentials  to  Success  in  Teaching,  I.  5(51. 

Letters  to  a  Young  Teacher,  by  G.  F.  Thayer,  I.  357 ; 
EL.  103,  31)1,  (157  ;  TTT  71,  313  ;  IV.  219,  450 ;  VI. 
435;  VTH.  81. 

Lectures  to  Young  Teachers  ;  Intellectual  Education, 
by  W.  Russell,  TJ.  113,  317;  TTT  47,  3-21;  IV. 
199,  309.  Moral  Education,  IX.  19. 

Special  Training  a  Pre-requisite  to  Teaching,  by  II. 
Mann,  XTTT.  507. 

Teachers  and  their  Education,  by  W.  E.  Channing, 
XH.  453. 

Professional  Training  of  Teachers,  XUJ.  269. 

Didactics  as  a  Department  in  Colleges,  by  T.  Hill, 
XV.  177. 

German  Views  upon  Female  Teachers,  IV.  795. 

Teachers'  Conferences  and  other  Modes  of  Profession 
al  Improvement,  XTTT,  273. 


Holland.     Normal  School  at  Haarlem.  XIV.  501.    ft 

Prussia.  Provisions  for  Education  and  Support  of 
Teachers,  XI.  165-190.  System  of  Normal  Schools, 
XIV.  191-240.  Seminary  School  at  Weissenfels, 
VIJJ.  455;  XIV.  219.  Dr.  Julius  on,  XVL  ^J- 
Regulations  of  1854,  XVI.  395. 

Normal  Schools  in  Switzerland.  XTTT.  313-440. 

Normal  and  Model  Schools  of  Upper  Canada,  XIV. 
483. 

United  States  —  Documentary  History  of  Normal 
Schools— Adams,  I.  58<J  ;  Baclie.  VIJJ.  360  ;  Bar 
nard.  X.  24,  40  ;  Bates,  XVI.  •< 33  :  Brooks,  I.  587 ; 
Bnrrowes,  XVI.  195;  Calhoun,  XVL  86 ;  Carter, 
XVI.  77 ;  Channing,  XTT,  453 ;  Clinton,  XTTT. 
341;  Dwijrht.  IV.  16:  Edwards,  XVI.  271  ;  Em 
erson,  XVI.  93  :  Everett,  XTTT,  758;  Gollaude^ 
X.  16  ;  Hull,  V.  386 ;  XVI.  75  ;  Humphrey,  XJJ. 
655  ;  Julius,  XVL  89  ;  Johnson,  V.  798 ;  Lindsley, 
VLT.  35  ;  Mann,  V.  646  ;  VJII.  300  ;  Olmsted,  V. 
369;  Peirce.IV.  305;  Phelps.  JTJ.  417  ;  Putnam,  L 
588 ;  Sears.  XVI.  471 ;  Stephen*,  VUL  368 ; 
Stowe,  XV.  6f8;  Tillinghast,  L  67  ;  Webster,  I. 
590;  Wickersham,  XV.  221. 


Teachers'    Institutes   in    Wisconsin,   VHI.    673.     In     Chapter   in   the    History  of  Normal  Schools   in  New 


Different  States — Historical  Development,  XV.  387. 
Connecticut,  387 ;  New  York,  395 ;  Ohio,  401  ; 
Rhode  Island,  405  ;  Massachusetts,  412. 

School  for  Teachers,  by  W.  R.  Johnson,  V.  799. 

Teachers'  Seminaries,  by  C.  E.  Stowe,  XV.  688. 

Relation  of  Normal  Schools  to  other  Institutions,  by 
W.  F.  Phelps,  UJ.  417. 

Historical  Development  of  Normal  Schools  in  Europe 
and  America,  XIJI.  753-770. 

Germany  and  other  European  States — Number,  Loca 
tion  and  Results  of  Normal  Schools,  VTTT,  360 ; 
Professional  Training  of  Teachers  in  Anhalt,  XV. 
345;  Austria,  XVI.  345  ;  Baden,  X.  212;  Bavarin, 
VI.  289;  Belgium,  VUJ.  593;  Brunswick,  XV. 
453;  France,  XUJ.  281  ;  Greece,  YTJ.  579;  Han 
over,  XV.  419;  Hesse-Cussel,  XV.  439;  Hesse 
Darmstadt,  XIV.  410;  Holland,  XIV.  501,  647; 


England  ;  Charles  Brooks,  L  587. 
California.     State  Normal  School,  XVI.  628. 
Connecticut.    History  of  State   Normal   School,  X. 

15-58.     History  of  Teachers'  Institutes,  XV.  387. 
Illinois.    State  Normal   University  at   Bloomington, 

IV.  774. 

Kentucky.    State  Normal  School,  JTJ.  217. 
Maine.     State  Normal  School,  XVU. 
Maryland.    State  Normal  School,  XVIJ. 
Massachusetts.     State  Normal  School  at  Bridgewater, 

V.  «>46  ;  XVI.  595.     At  Barre ;  Everett's  Address, 
XIJI.  758.     At  Westfield,   XU.   652.    Teachers' 
Seminary  at  Andover,  V.  386.    History  of  Teach 
ers'  Institutes,  XV.  387. 

New  Jersey.    State   Normal   School,   TTT,  221.    Its 
Aims,   by  D.  Cole,  V.  835.    Faruuin   Preparatory 


School,  TTT  397. 

Lippe  Detmold.  XV.  4"">:    Mecklenburg,  XV.  464,     New  York.    State  Normal  School  at  Albany,  XUJ. 
472;  Nassau,  U.  444;  Prussia,  XI.  165;  Russia,        341,  531.    History  of  Teachers'    Institutes,   XV. 


XIJ.  727;    Sardinia,  TTT    517;    Saiony,  V.  353; 
Switzerland,  XTTT,  313. 


395.     Training  School  at  Owrjro,  XVL  230.    Nor 
mal  School  at  Brockport,  XVII. 


Great  Britain.      Training  Colleges   in   England   and     Ohio.      History   of  Tearhers'    Institutes,    XV.   401. 


Wales,  X.  349.  Normal  Schools  of  the  British  and 
Foreign  School  Society,  X.  435.  Normal  and 
Model  Schools  of  the  Home  and  Colonial  Society, 
IX.  449.  St.  Mark's  Training  College  for  Masters 
of  the  National  Society,  X.  .r>.'U.  Battersea  Train 
ing  School  for  Parochial  S<-ho<. lumbers.  IX.  170. 
Chester  Diocesan  Training  College,  X.  553.  Nor 
mal  Schools  for  Training  Schoolmistresses,  X.  571 ; 
Normal  Schools  at  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow,  X.  583. 
Irish  System  of  Training  Teachers,  XL  136. 
France.  Normal  Schools  and  Training,  XUJ.  281. 
Normal  Schools  of  the  Christian  Brothers,  UL  437. 


Normal  Schools  in,  XVU. 
Pennsylvania.      Professional  Training    of  Teachers, 

XIV.  721.    Normal   School    at    Millem-ille.    XV. 

221.      Philadelphia    Normal     School    for    Female 

Teachrr«.  XIV.  727.     XVI.  195.    Normal  School 

at  Mansfield.  XVU. 
Rhode   Island.      Education    of  Tenchen,   XL   282. 

History  of  Teachers'  Institutes,  XV.  405. 
Vermont.     Teachers'   Seminary   in   1823,  XVI.  146. 

State  Normal  Schools,  XVLT. 
Wisconsin.    Teachers'  Institutes,  VIU.  G73.    Normal 

Schools,  XVtL 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION.        3! 


V.    STATE  AXD  i\ATIO\  VL  SYSTEMS. 


Educational  Statistics,  I.  040-651. 

Anlialt.    System  of  Public  Instruction,  XV.  344. 

Austria.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  IX.  589. 
Educational  Statistics,  TTTT  '275  ;  IV.  257  ;  XVI. 
5,  337,  609 ;  XVH.  127. 

Baden.  System  of  Public  Instruction  ;  Primary,  X. 
201.  Secondary,  XI.  233.  Seminary  for  Orphans 
at  Beuggen,  HI.  383. 

Buvnriu.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  VI.  273,  571 ; 
VLLT.  491.  Educational  Statistics,  I.  625. 

Belgium.     System  of  Public  Instruction,  Vm.  581. 

Brunswick.     System  of  Public  Instruction,  XV.  447. 

Canada.  History  and  System  of  Public  Instruction  in 
Upper  Canada,  by  J.  G.  Hodgins,  I.  186.  Statistics 
of  Education  in  Upper  Canada,  XIII.  649.  Edu 
cational  Institutions  in  U.  and  L.  Canada,  H.  728. 

Denmark.     System  of  Public  Instruction,  XIV.  625. 

England.  Historical  Sketch  of  Elementary  Instruc 
tion,  X.  323.  British  and  Foreign  School  Society 
and  Borough  Road  Schools,  X.  371-459.  National 
Society  for  Promoting  the  Education  of  the  Poor, 
X.  499-574.  Home  and  Colonial  Infant  and  Juve 
nile  Society,  IX.  449.  Lord  John  Russell's  Scheme 
of  National  Education,  I.  638.  Ashburton  Prizes 
for  Teaching  Common  Things,  I.  629 ;  X.  93.  Miss 
Coutts'  Prizes,  U.  708.  Public  Endowed  or  Found 
ation  Schools,  IV.  807;  VHT.  257;  XV.  81-117. 


Lippe-Detmold  and  Schaumburg  Lippe.  System  of 
Public  Instruction,  XV.  473,  576. 

Luxemburg  and  Limberg.  System  of  Public  Instruc 
tion,  XIV.  664. 

Mecklenburg.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  XV. 
459.  Ignorance  in,  HE.  278. 

Nassau.     System  of  Public  Instruction,  U.  444. 

New  South  Wales.     Statistics  of  Education,  I.  639. 

Norway.     System  of  Public  Instruction,  VIII.  295. 

Portugal.    System  of  Public  Instruction,  XVII. 

Prussia.  History  and  Statistics  of  Public  Instruction, 
IV.  245;  VIII.  403-434  ;  IX.  569.  Expenditures 
for  Public  Instruction  in  Prussia  and  France,  U. 
337.  Public  Schools  of  Berlin,  VIII.  440.  Fred 
eric  William  Gymnasium  and  Real  Schools  of  Ber 
lin,  V.  699.  Burgher  School  at  Halle,  VIII.  434. 
Higher  Burgher  School  of  Potsdam,  VLTI.  457. 

Russia.     National  Education,  XII.  725 

Sardinia.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  HI.  513; 
IV.  37,  479. 

Saxony.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  V.  350.  Sec 
ondary  Instruction,  IV.  251.  Burgher  School,  IX. 
201  '  Early  School  Code,  VI.  432. 

Scotland.  Elementary  Education,  IX.  215.  Paro 
chial  School  System,  II.  716  ;  VII.  319. 

Spain.    Public  Instruction,  XVII. 

Sweden.    Public  Instruction,  H.  720  ;  XVI.  C39. 


Appropriations  to  Education,  Science,  and  Art,  I.    Turkey.    System  of  Education,  H.  725. 


385;  H.348;  X.  347. 

France.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  VI.  293 ;  IX. 
481-412.  Guizot's  Ministry  of  Public  Instruction, 
XI.  254,  357.  Statistics  of  Education,  IV.  257. 
Expenditures  for  Public  Instruction,  LI.  337,  717. 

Free  Cities  ;  Frankfort,  Hamburg,  Bremen,  and  Lii- 
beck.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  XV.  333. 

Germany.  History  and  Course  of  Primary  Instruction, 
Vm.  348-402.  Real  Schools,  V.  689-714.  Edu 
cational  Intelligence,  TTT.  273  ;  IV.  245. 

Greece.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  XLT.  571-592. 
Statistics  of  Education,  I.  628. 

Hanover.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  IV.  250 ; 
XV.  415,  752. 

Hesse  Cassel.     System  of  Public  Instruction,  XV.  431. 

Hesse  Darmstadt.     Public  Instruction,  XIV.  409-430. 

Holland.  System  of  Public  Instruction,  IV.  801; 
VHT.  -r)95  ;  XIV.  495,  641-720.,  Proposed  Revis 
ion  of  System,  LT.  719.  Statistics  of  Public  Schools, 
I.  401.  Scheme  of  Christian  Education  adopted  at 
Dort,  1618,  V.  77. 

Honduras.     Condition  of  Education,  H.  236. 

India.    Progress  of  Education,  LT-  727. 

Ireland.  Elementary  Education,  XI.  133-154.  Sys 
tem  of  National  Education,  ILL  272;  IV.  363. 
National  Schools.  XLTI.  145.  Educational  Appro 
priations,  I.  390 ;  n.  348,  716.  Endowed  Grammar 
and  English  Schools,  XV.  721. 

Italy.  Institutions  for  Public  Instruction,  U.  721. 
History  of  Education,  VLT.  413. 


Wurtemburg.  Early  School  Code,  VI.  426.  System 
of  Public  Instruction,  XVII. 

UNITED  STATES.  Official  Exposition  of  Common 
Schools,  n.  257,  465-561.  School  Funds  and  Pub- 
lie  Instruction  in  the  several  States,  I.  371,  447. 
Statistics  of  Population,  Area,  and  Education  in 
1850,  I.  364.  Statistics  of  Public  Instruction  in 
Cities  and  large  Towns,  I.  458.  Educational 
Movements  in  the  several  States,  I.  234,  641  ;  LT. 
257,  452,  734  ;  IV.  824.  Plan  of  Central  Agency 
for  Advancement  of  Education,  by  H.  Barnard,  I. 
134.  National  Bureau  of  Education,  XV.  180. 
Lord  Elgin  on  the  American  School  System,  HI. 
239.  Education  among  the  Cherokees,  by  W.  P. 
Ro»s,  I.  120.  Schools  as  they  were  Sixty  Years 
ago,  XLTL  123,  737  ;  XVI.  National  Department 
of  Education,  XVLT.  49.  Constitutional  Provision, 
XVLI.  81.  Educational  Land  Policy,  XVII.  65. 

Alabama.  School  Statistics,  I.  368,  371 ;  H,  464. 
Constitutional  Provision,  XVLT. 

Arkansas.     Statistics,  I.  368,  371. 

California.    XVI.  625.     Statistics,  I.  372  ;  LT.  467. 

Connecticut.  History  of  Common  Schools,  by  H 
Barnard,  IV.  657 ;  V.  1 14 ;  XLTI.  725 ;  XIV.  244; 
XV.  275 ;  XVI.  333.  History  of  the  School  Fund, 
VI.  367-415.  Henry  Barnard's  Labors,  I.  669. 
Public  Schools  and  other  Educational  Institutions, 
XI.  305.  Free  Academy  and  School  Movements 
in  Norwich,  LT.  665  ;  HI.  191.  Statistics,  I.  372; 
H.  469.  Constitutional  Provision,  XVH. 


32        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD  S  AMERICAN  JOt;RNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Delaware.    Statistics.  I.  368,  373;   EL  474. 

Florida.    Statist  ic»,  L  367,374. 

Georgia.     L  368,  374  ;  JJ.  477. 

Illinois.    I.  368,  375 .  TJ.  479. 

Iiidmnn.     I.  368.  375  ;  EL  480. 

Iowa.    I.  368,  374  ;  EL 

Knnsus.     XVII. 

Kentucky.     I.  368,  377 ;  H.  488. 

Louisiana.    I.  368.  377  :  H.  473. 

Mnine.    1.368,378;  H.  495. 

Maryland.    L  368,  378. 

Massachusetts.  Doctrine  of  Free  Schools,  XV.  15. 
Analysis  of  Horace  Mann's  Reports,  V.  6-23.  Sphool 
Sujierintendence ;  Memorial  of  American  Institute 
of  Instruction,  V.  653.  Legal  Recognition  of 
Teaching  as  a  Profession ;  Memorial  of  Worcester 
County  Teachers'  Association,  X.  297.  £  3t>8, 
379 ;  II.  499. 

Michigan.    I.  368,  447;  H.  510. 

Minnesota.    1.368. 

Mississippi.    I.  368,447. 

Missouri.    1.368.448.      % 

Nebraska.     XVII. 

Nevada.     XVII. 

New  Hampshire.    I.  3fi8,'448  ;  U.  510. 

New  Jersey.    I.  368,  449 ;  EL  517. 

New  York.    I.  368,  449  ;  II.  518 

North  Carolina.  I.  368,  431 ;  EL  527.  Schools  as 
they  were  in  17l»4,  XVI.  1. 

Ohio.  System  <>!"  ( 'ommori  Schools,  by  W.T.  Cogge- 
shall,  VI.  8J,  532;  I.  368,  451  ;  JJ.  531. 


Oregon.     I.  368  ;  XVH. 

Pennsylvania.     History  of  Common  Schools,  VI.  107, 

555;  I.  36.".  452:  JJ.  511. 
Kho.lf  Maud     I.  3ii.*.  45»  :  n.  514.    Labors  of  Henry 

n«rnnrd.  I.  723. 
South  Carolina.     I.   368.  455;    H.  553.     Marion    on 

Free  Schools  for,  XVI.  Jl'->. 
Tennessee.     I.  3H8,  455. 
Texas.     I.  3(*v  1 1.. 
Vermont.    I.  368,  466. 
Virginia.    I.  368,  457  ;  Gov.  Wise  on  Education,  EL 

557. 

West  Virginia.     XVH. 
Wisconsin.    I.  368,  457. 
District  of  Columbia.     XVEL 
Cities.    Statistics  of  Population,  I.  479.     Gradation 

of  Schools  tor,  XV.  316,  '.W.I     Reports  on,  I.  458. 
Boston  :  Edward  Everett  and  the  Boston  Schools,  I. 

642.     Latin  Grammar  School  of  Boston,  XEL  529. 

Girls  in  the  Public  Schools  of  Boston.  XHL  243. 

Dedication  of  the  Everett  School  House,  IX.  633. 

Report  of  N.   Bishop,  I.  458.    School  Houses  in, 

XVI.  701. 
Chicago   High   School,   by  VV.  H.  Wells,  TTT,  531. 

Retirement  of  Mr.  Wells,  XTV.  811. 
Cincinnati ;  Woodward  High  School,  IV.  520. 
New  York  City.    Public  School  Society,  XV.  489. 
Philadelphia  High  School,  by  J.  S.  Hart,  L  93.    Report 

on  Public  Schools,  I.  465. 
Providence  :  Report  on,  I.  468. 
St.  Louis  System  of  Public  Instruction,  L  348. 


VI.    SECONDARY,  INTERMEDIATE  AND  ACADEMICAL  SCHOOLS. 

Anhalt.     Gymnasiums  and  Higher  Schools,  XV.  346.     Hesse-Darmstadt.     Classical,  Real,  Trades,  and  Higher 

Austria.     Sv>tem  .virl  Stati.-ties  of  Secondary  Jnstruc-         Female  School  Systems.  XIV.  419. 

Holland. 


tion,  IX.  5118.     XVI.  465.     XVIJ.  127. 
Baden.     Sy-tem  of  Sec.  Instruction,   XI.  233-253. 
Bavaria.     Secondary  Schools,  VIJI.  491-521. 
Belgium.     Secondary  Schools,  VIJI.  587. 
Brunswick.     Clascal  Schools.  XV.  456. 
Canada.     Secondary  Schools.  XHJ.  649. 
Denmark.    Outline  of  System  and  Statistics,  XIV. 

625. 
England.     Public  or  Foundation  Schools,  VJJI.  257  ; 

XV.  81.     Mr.   Sewall's  School  at  Radleigh,  IV. 

803.     St.  Mary's  C.dl--.-  at  Winchester.  XVI.  501. 

St.   Paul's   School    in   London,   XVI.    667.     Eton 

College,  XVH. 
France.     Lyci-unis  and  Secondary  Schools,   VI.  2114. 

Statistics  of  Secondary  Education  in  1843.  IX.  41  N). 

Secondary  Instruction  under  Guizot's  Mini-try,  XI. 

357.     School*  of  Preparation    for   the   Polytechnic 

School,  XU.  47. 
Free  Cities.     Gymnasiums  and  Secondary  Institutions, 

XV.  339. 
Greece.    Secondary  Schools,  Gymnasiums,  &c.,  XU. 

581. 
Hanover.    Real  Schools  and  Girls'  High  School,  IV. 

250.    Secondary  Instruction,  XV.  753-781. 
Hesse  Cassel.    Secondary  Institutions,  XV.  435. 


Secondary  Schools,  XTV.  654. 

Ireland.  Endowed  Grammar  and  English  Schools, 
XV.  721. 

Mecklenburg.    Secondary  Schools  XV.  465. 

Nassau.     Secondary  Education.  TJ.  445. 

Norway.  Burgher,  Real,  and  Learned  Schools,  VUJ. 
301. 

Prussia.  Statistics  of  Secondary  Instruction,  TJ,  341 ; 
IV.  247.  Higher  Institutions  of  Berlin,  V.  699. 
Secondary  Education,  IX.  569. 

Sardinia.     Secondary  Instruction,  UJ.  518;  J/V.  37. 

Saxony.  Real  and  Classical  Schools,  V.  354;  IV. 
251.  Serondaiv  Education.  IX.  -'"I. 

I'nited  States.  Historical  Development  of  Incorpora 
ted  Academies,  XVI.  403.  Stntisties  of  Acade 
mies,  &C.  in  1850,  I.  36>:  Lawrence  Academy, 
Gn.f.m,  MH-S..  I.  4'.l.  Willi.-ton  Semunrv 
hampton,  Mass.,  JJ.  113.  Norwich  Tree  Academy, 
Norwich,  Conn.,  TJ.  ''•'''•">:  III.  190.  Public  High 
Scho.l  in  Chi.-.-iffo.  UJ.  531.  Woodward  II-L-h 
School  in  Cineinnnti,IV.  520.  Phillips  Academy, 
Andover,  Mnn..  VI.  73.  Phillips  Academy.  Exe 
ter,  N.  H.,  VI.  76.  Boston  Latin  School.  XII.  ">-"' 
Public  Grammar  Schools  of  Philadelphia,  XIII. 
818. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


33 


VII.   UNIVERSITY  AND  COLLEGE  EDUCATION. 


Signification  of  the  term  University,  IX.  49-56. 

University  Honors,  VIII.  313. 

University  Studies  and  Teaching,  Rnumer,  VLT-  201. 

Classical  Education.  Erasmus' Views,  IV.  729.  Da 
vid  Cole  upon,  I,  67.  Discussion  before  the  Amer 
ican  Association,  I,  86.  S.  P.  Bates,  XV,  155. 
Speaking  and  Writing  Latin,  Raumer,  VII.  471. 

College  Education  and  Self-Education,  IV.  262. 

Prayers  in  Colleges,  by  F.  D.  Huntington,  IV.  23. 

College  Code  of  Honor,  by  Horace  Mann,  HI.  65. 

Authorities  upon  the  History  of  Universities,  and 
Academical  Degrees,  II.  747 ;  VLT.  49 ;  IX.  56. 

Canada.  University  ond  Colleges  of  Upper  and 
Lower  Canada,  II.  728  ;  VLT.  188  ;  XIII.  649. 

England.  Government  Grunts  in  1856,  H.  348.  Ox 
ford  Commemoration,  H.  234.  Expenses  in  Eton 
College  in  1560,  IV.  259.  University  for  Legal 
Education,  I.  386.  Working  Men's  College,  I,  389. 

France.     University  and  Colleges,  VI.  296. 

Germany.  German  Universities  in  the  Sixteenth  Cen 
tury,  froin  Raumer,  V.  535.  History  of  German 
Universities,  from  Raumer,  VI.  0-65;  VLT.  47-152. 
Student  Societies  in  German  Universities,  VLT.  160. 
Essays  on  the  Improvement  of  German  Universities, 
from  Raumer,  VII.  200-251.  Statistics,  I.  401. 

Greece.    The  Otho  University,  XLT.  591. 

Holland.     Condition  of  the  Universities,  I.  397. 

Ireland.     Queen's  Colleges  and  University,  IX.  579. 

Prussia.    Receipts  and  Expend,  of  Universities,  LT.  338. 

Russia.     Universities,  I,  381. 


Sardinia.     University  Education,  IV.  43. 

Saxony.     University  of  Leipsic,  V.  362. 

Scotland.     University  of  Edinburg,  IV.  821. 

Wurtemburg.     University  of  Tubingen,  IX,  57. 

United  States.  Characteristics  of  American  Colleges, 
by  C.  C.  Felton,  LX.  122. 

Improvements  Practicable  in  American  Colleges,  by 
F.  A'.  P.  Barnard,  I.  175,  269. 

Consolidation  and  other  Modifications  of  American 
Colleges,  by  Alonzo  Potter,  I.  471. 

An  American  University,  by  B.  A.  Gould,  LT,  265- 
293.  By  A.  D.  Bache,  I,  477.  By  an  Alabumian, 
ILT,  213.  Discussion,  I,  86. 

Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Collegiate  and  Theolog 
ical  Education  at  the  West,  I.  235  ;  XV-  261. 

Statistics  of  New  England. Colleges  in  1855-6,  I.  405. 

Harvard  University.  History,  IX.  129.  Grants  and 
Donations  to.  IX.  139-165.  Progress  under  Pres. 
Felton,  X,  293.  Museum  of  Zoology,  IX.  613. 

Yale  College.  History,  V.  541-566.  Elihu  Yale,  V. 
715.  List  of  Deceased  Benefactors,  X,  693.  De 
partment  of  Philosophy  and  the  Arts,  I.  459,  In 
fluence  of,  by  F.  A.  P.  Barnard,  V.  723;  by  W. 
B.  Sprague,  X,  681. 

Illinois  College.     History,  I,  225. 

Transylvania  University,  Kentucky,  ILT.  217. 

Cumberland  University,  Tennessee;  History,  IV.  765. 

University  Convocation  of  New  York,  XV,  502. 

St.  John's  College,  Maryland,  Charter,  XVI.  549. 
Report  on  Reorganization,  XVI.  539. 


VIII.    SCHOOLS  OF  SCIENCE 

Democratic  Tendencies  of  Science,  D.  Olmsted,  I.  164. 

Progress  of  Science  in  the  United  States,  I.  641. 

Science  and  Scientific  Schools,  by  J.  D.  Dana,  LT.  349. 

Schools  of  Science  and  Art,  X.  216. 

Physical  Science.     By  H.  J.  Anderson,  I.  515-532. 

Scientific  Schools  in  Europe,  by  D.  C.  Gilman,  I.  315. 

Department  of  Science  and  Art,  Eng.,  LT.  233,  715. 

Higher  Special  Schoo's  of  Science  and  Literature  in 
France,  by  D.  C.  Gilman ,  LT.  93. 

Special  Instruction  in  Science  and  Art  in  France, 
IX.  405. 

Polytechnic  Schools.  At  Paris,  VLTI.  661 ;  XLT. 
51-130.  Le  Verrier's  Report  upo,n  Mathematical 
Study  preparatory  to  the  Polytechnic  School  of 
Paris,  I.  533-550;  LT,  177-192.  Conditions  for 
Admission,  XLTI.  678.  Polytechnic  Institute  at 
Vienna,  VLTI.  670.  Polytechnic  School  at  Carls- 
ruhe,  XI-  209.  Polytechnic  Scho  1  at  Zurich,  XI, 
218.  Polytechnic  Schools  of  Bavaria,  VLTI.  510. 

Russia.    Schools  of  Special  Instruction,  I,  382. 

Lawrence  Scientific  School  at  Cambridge,  I.  216. 

Scientific  Department  in  Yale  College,  I.  359. 

Cooper  Scientific  Union,  New  York,  I.  652 ;  IV-  526. 

Industrial  School  at  Chen>nitz,  ILT,  252  :  IV-  798. 

School  of  Mines  at  Freyburg,  Saxony,  IX,  167. 


AND  ARTS;  MUSEUMS,  &C. 

Drawing  ;  Report  of  a  French  Commission,  LT.  410. 

Art  Education,  by  Miss  M.  A.  Dwight,  LT.  409-587  ; 
LTI.  407  ;  IV.  191 ;  V.  305. 

O*a  Ci  liege  of  Architecture,  by  D.  B.  Reid,  LT.  629. 

Dudley  Observatory,  LT.  593.  Uses  of  Astronomy, 
by  E.  Everett,  LT,  605-628. 

United  States  Coast  Survey,  I,  103. 

Geological  Hall  and  Agricultural  Rooms  of  New 
York,  IV.  785. 

British  Museum,  VLTI.  314.  British  Museum  of 
Practical  Geology,  VI.  239.  Museum  of  Compara 
tive  Zoology  at  Harvard,  IX.  613.  Educational 
Uses  of  Museums,  by  Prof.  E.  Forbes,  IV.  785. 

Institute  of  Agriculture  and  Forestry  at  Hohenheun, 
VLTI.  564.  At  Tharand,  Saxony,  IV.  797. 

Agricultural  Education  in  France,  VLTI.  545-563. 
In  Ireland,  VLTI.  567-580. 

Plan  of  Agricultural  School,  by  J.  A.  Porter,  I,  329. 

Hartlib's  Plan  of  a  College  of  Husbandry,  XI.  191. 

Mechanics'  Institutes  in  England,  I.  388;  LT,  712. 

Plan  of  aTn.de  School,  by  Sir  W.  Pelty,  1647,  XI.  199. 

Industrial  Training  of  Poor,  X.  81.  Industrial  School* 
in  England,  I.  653.  Ireland,  I.  545.  Belgium.  I. 
384;  VLTI,  588.  Bavaria,  VLTI.  510.  Nassau,  II . 
446.  Saxony,  IV.  252,  798.  Wurtemburg,  IV.  7'JU. 


34        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD  S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


IX.    MILITARY  AND  NAVAL  EDI C ATIO\. 


Physical  and  Military  Exercises  in  Public  Schools  a 
National  Necessity,  by  E.  L.  Molmeux,  XI.  513. 

Military  Schools  and  Kducntion  in  England.  IV.  808; 
XIV.  5-J3.  France,  I.  626;  XTI.  7-274.  Hol- 
Und,  XTV.  241.  Prussia.  XTI.  275-399 ;  VLTL 
437.  Russia,  I.  383;  XIV.  503.  Switzerland, 
689-710.  Sardinia,  XIH.  455.  Austria, 
409-446,  711.  Persia,  JJ.  "27. 

United  States ;  Military  Academy  at  West  Point, 
XHI,  17-48.  Regulations  for  Admission,  XLTI. 


659.  Report  of  Visitors,  1863,  XLTI.  661  ;  XV, 
51.  On  the  Conditions  for  Admission,  by  H.  Bar 
nard,  XIV.  103-127.  Military  Academy  at  Nor 
wich,  Vt.,  3CTTT,  65.  Eagleswood  Military  Acad 
emy,  at  Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.,  XIH.  471. 

Naval  and  Navigation  Schools  in  England,  XIV. 
6-27 ;  XV.  65. 

French  Naval  School  at  Brest,  XII.  263. 

United  States  Naval  Academy;  Report  of  Visitors, 
1864,  XV.  17-50. 


X.    PREVENTIVE  AND  REFORMATORY  EDUCATION. 

Education   a  Preventive  of  Misery  and  Crime,  by  E.     Agricultural  Reform  Schoob  in  Belgium  and  France, 


C.  Tainsch,  XI  77. 

Crimes  of  Children  nnd  their  Prevention.  I.  345. 
Publications  on  Reformatory  Education,  HI,  812. 


HE.  621-736. 
Agricultural  Colonies  of  France,  particularly  Mettray, 

I.  raw ;  m.  653. 


Family  Training  and  Agricultural  Labor  in  Reforma-     Reformatory  Education  in  the  United  States,  IV.  824  ; 


tory  Education,  I.  609-624. 
Crime,  Pauperism,  and  Education  in  G.  Brit.,  VI.  31 1. 


Statistics  of  State  and  City  Reform  Schools  in  the 
United  States,  m,  811 ;    VlII.  339. 


Preventive  nnd  Reformatory  Kducntion,  HI  .liil-81-'.     State  Industriaf  School  for  Girls,  ut  Lancaster,  Mass., 

IV.  359;  XVI.  652. 
Mode     of    Improving    Factory    Population,    VTH. 

305. 
Special  Training  of  Women  for  Social  Employments, 

HI,  485. 
International   Philanthropic  Congress  at  Brussels,  TJ, 

236 ;  TTT   231. 
Industrial  Training  of  the  Poor.  I.  384,  635  ;  JJ.  446; 

HI.  585  ;  IV.  252,  798;  X.  81. 


Reform  Schools  in  En-Hand,  HJ.   753.     In  Ireland, 
HJ.  807.     In  Scotland,  HJ.  801.     In  France.  HJ, 
653.     In    Holland,  JJI.    C19-     I"   Italy,  TTT,   580. 
In  Switzerland,  TTT.  591. 
Reformatory    Establishment    of    Dusselthal    Abbey, 

Prussia,  H.  231. 

Prison  for  Juvenile  Criminals,  Isle  of  Wight,  HJ.  H>- 
Wichern  and  the   Rauhe  Haus,  TTT,  5,  10,  603  ;  IV. 
824. 


XI.    EDUCATION  FOR  DEAF-MUTES,  BLIND  AND  IDIOTS. 

Statistics  of  the   Deaf,    Dumb,   Blind,   Insane,   and  Account  of  Laura  Bri.lgman,  by  S.  G.  Howe,  IV.  383. 

Idiotic  in  the  U.  S.  in  1850.  I  650.  Idiots  and   Institutions  for  their  Training,  by  L.  P. 

Statistics  of  the    Deaf  and    Dumb  Institutions  in  the  Brockett.  I,  593. 

United  States,  I.  444.  Origin  of  Treatment  and  Training  of  Idiots,  by  E. 

American  Asylum  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb.  I.  440.%  Segnin.  H.  145. 

N.  V.  Institution  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb.  HI.  347.  New  York  Asylum  for  Imbeciles  at  Syracuse,  IV.  416. 

Institutions  and   Instruction  for  the  Blind,  by  L.  P.  Butler  Hospital   for  the  Insane,  at  Providence,  R  I., 

Brockett,  IV.  127.  JJI  309. 

Valentine  llniiy  and  the  Instruction  of  the  Blind,  JJI.  Insanity  ns  the  Result  of  Misdirected  Education,  by 


177  ;  IV.  130. 


E.  Jurvis,  IV.  591. 


XII.    MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION;  DENOMINATIONAL  SCHOOLS. 


Thoughts  on  Religion  and  Public  Schools,  by  George 

Burgess,  JJ.  562. 

Christianity  in  Education,  from  Raumer.  VIII.  216. 
Relisiotis  Instruction,  from  Ranmer,  VH.  401. 
Religions  and  Moral   Instruction    in   Public  Schools ; 

Discussion  by  the  American  Association,  U.  153. 
Importance  and  Methods  of  Moral  Training,  by  G.  F. 

Thayer.  UJ.  71. 

•Best  Methods  of  Moral  Teaching,  by  C.  Brooks.  I.  336. 
Moral  and    Mental   Discipline,   by  Z.   Richards,  I. 

107. 


Moral  Education,  by  W.  Russell,  IX.  19-48  ;  Fellen- 
berg,  JJI  595;  Kriisi,  V.  193;  Lalor.  XVI.  48; 
Locke,  XI  473;  1CTTT,  548;  Spencer.  XI.  • 

Aphorisms  on  Religious  and  Moral  Training,  X.  166; 

XH  407. 

Prayers  in  Colleges,  by  F.  D.  Huntington.  IV.  "-3. 
Catholic    Educational    E-itaMishments  in  the  United 

Stat^.  II.  -135. 

The  Ilieronyminns;  from  Raumer.  IV.  622. 
Jesuits    and   their  School',   XIV.    4.~>5-4ev2.      From 

Raumer,  V.  213:  VI.  615. 


Formation  of  Moral  Character,  the  Main  Object  of    The    Chriitian    Brothers,    (Freres   Chrgtiens,^    ITJ. 
*    Schools,  by  M.  F.  Cowdery,  XVI.  353.  437. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION.       35 


XIII.    EDUCATION  AND  SCHOOLS  FOR  FEMALES. 

Girls  in  the  Public  Schools  of  Boston,  XILL  243. 


Aphorisms    upon     Female    Education,    XTTT,    232. 

Views  of  German  Authorities,  XLTI.  4i)5. 
St.  Jerome— Letter  to  Lieta.  on  the  Education  of  her 

Daughter,  V,  593. 

E.  Everett,  Female  Education,  IX.  635;  XLL  721. 
Education  of  Girls,  from  Ranmer,  X.  227,  613. 
Mental  Education  of  Women,  hy  C.  McKeen,  I.  567. 
Training  of  Women  for  Social  Employments,  HI.  485. 
Sisters  of  Charity — Mrs.  Jameson.  HI,  495. 
Female  Adult  Education  in  Ireland,  I.  634. 
School  for  Girls  in  Pans,  I.  :i94. 


Female  Colleges  in  the  State  of  Ohio,  XILL  267. 

New  York  Grammar  School  for  Girls,  I,  408.  Packer 
Collegiate  Institute  for  Girls,  I,  579.  Young  Ladies' 
High  School,  Providence,  R.  I.,  V.  14.  Troy  Fe 
male  Seminary,  VI.  145.  Mt.  Holyoke  Female 
Seminary,  X.  670.  Bailey's  Young  Ladies'  High 
School,  Boston,  XII.  435.  Ohio  Female  College, 
College  Hill,  XIII.  503.  Girls'  High  School, 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  XTTT  620.  Vassar  College,  XI. 

55.  xvn. 


XIV.    PHYSICAL  EDUCATION. 

Aphorisms  and  Suggestions  upon  Physical  Training,     Physical  and  Military  Exercises  in  Schools  a  National 
VIII.  75.  Necessity,  hy  E.  L.  Molineux,  XI.  513. 

By 


Physical    Education ;    hy   Raumer.   VIH.    185. 
Locke,  XI.  462.     By  Lalor,  XVI,  34.     By  Spen 
cer,  XI.  485. 

Health  of  Teachers,  by  Miss  C.  E.  Beecher,  H,  399. 

Physical  Exercises,  hy  S.  W.  Mason,  XTV.  6J. 

New  Gymnastics,  hy  Dio  Lewis,  XI.  531  ;  XII.  CG5. 


Plays,  Pastimes,  and  Holidays  of  Children,  hy  Horace 

Bushnell,  XLU.  £>3. 
Progressive   Development  of  Physical  Culture  in  the 

United  States,  XV.  231. 
Militnry   Gymnastic   School    at   Vincennes,   France, 

XII.  265. 


XV.    SUPPLEMENTARY,  SELF  AND  HOME  EDUCATION. 


Hints  on  Reading;  Selections  from  Authors,  hy  T.  H. 
Vail,  TJ.  215. 

Advice  to  Students  and  Young  Men  on  Education, 
Studies,  and  Conduct,  XV.  377  ;  XVI.  187,216, 
223. 

Pestalozzi— Address  on  Christmas  Eve,  VTJ.  701.  On 
New  Year's,  VH.  712.  Paternal  Instructions, 
VH.  722. 

Home  Education  ;  Labors  of  Rev.  W.  Burton,  TJ.  333. 

College   and  Self-education,  by  D.  Masson,  IV,  262. 

Lowell  Lectures,  V.  439. 

Mechanics'  Institutes.  VHL  250. 

Origin  of  Lyceums,  VTTT,  249.  The  American  Ly 
ceum,  XTV.  535-558. 


Lyceums,  Mechanics'  Institutes  and  Libraries  in  Eng 
land,  I.  388 ;  TJ.  712  ;  HI.  241-272. 

Statistics  of  Libraries  in  Europe,  I.  370 ;  JJ.  214.  In 
the  United  States  in  1850,  I.  369. 

Libraries  for  Teachers  in  France,  XJJI,  293.  Econ 
omic  Library,  England,  HI.  271. 

Astor  Library,  I,  648.  Boston  Public  Library,  H. 
203;  VH,  252.  Baltimore  Public  Library,  HL 
226.  Worcester  Free  Public  Library,  XIH.  606. 
Providence  Atheneum,  HI,  308.  Lawrence  Li 
brary  for  Factory  Operatives,  I,  649. 

Management  of  Libraries — Edward's  Library  Manual, 

H.  210. 

Books  of  Reference,  VLLL  315. 


XVI.    EDUCATIONAL.  ASSOCIATIONS. 


Association  for  Educational  Purposes,  by  H.  Barnard, 

XIV.  3G6;  XV.  819. 

American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Edu 
cation,  I.  3-136,  234 ;  XV.  267. 

American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Sci 
ence,  m,  147. 

American    Association   for  the  Supply  of  Teachers, 

XV.  237. 

American  Common  School  Society,  XV,  247. 

American  Education  Society,  XIV.  367. 

American  Institute  of  Instruction,  II.  19,234.  Index 
to  Lecturers  and  Subjects,  H.  241.  Memorial  on 
State  School  Superintendence,  V.  653.  Biographi 
cal  Sketches  of  Presidents,  XV.  211. 

Ameriran  Lyceum,  XTV.  535. 

American  School  Society,  XV.  118. 

American  Social  Science  Association,  XVI.  391. 


American  Sunday  School  Union,  XV.  705 

American  Women's  Educational  Asso.,  XV,  273. 

Baltimore  County  and  City  Association,  XVI.  377. 

Board  of  National  Popular  Education,  XV.  271. 

Boston  Associated  Instructors  of  Youth,  XV,  527. 

British  and  Foreign  School  Society,  X.  371-459. 

College  Delegates  (New England)  Association,  XVLL 

Guild  of  Schoolmasters,  XV.  337. 

Home  and  Colonial  Infant  and  Juvenile  Society,  LX, 
449-486. 

Literary  and  Scientific  Convention ;  New  York,  1830, 
XV.  221. 

National  Associations,  XV.  237,  823. 

National  Association  (England)  for  Promotion  of 
Social  Science,  IV.  818. 

National  Convention  and  Association  of  Superintend 
ents  of  Schools,  XVI.  389. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


National  Organization  of  Teacher*,  by  W.  Russell, 

XIV.  7. 

National  Teachers'  Association  ;  Proceedings,  XIV. 
5-92,  593.  Its  Nature  and  Objects,  by  J.  D.  Phil- 
brick,  XIV.  49. 

National  Society  (England)  for  Promoting  the  Educa 
tion  of  the  Poor,  X.  499-474. 

National   Society  of  Science,   Literature,   and   Arts, 

XV.  61. 

New  York  (City)  Society  of  Teachers.  XTV.  807 ; 
XV.  491.  Teachers'  Associations,  XV.  495. 

New  York  University  Convocation,  XV.  502. 

North-Western  Educational  Society,  XV.  275. 

Public  School  Society  of  New  York,  XV.  489. 

Society  for  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge,  XV. 
239. 

Society  for  Promoting  Manual  Labor  in  Literary  In 
stitutions,  XV.  231. 

Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Collegiate  and  Theolog 
ical  Education  at  the  West,  I.  235;  XV.  261. 

State  Convention  of  County  Superintendents ;  New 
York,  XV.  505. 

TEACHERS'  ASSOCIATIONS  in  France,  XTTT,  293. 

General  Assembly  of  German  Teachers,  IV.  258. 

United  Association  of  Schoolmasters,  Eng.,  TTTT  202. 


Teachers'  Conference!  and  other  Modes  of  Profes 
sional  Improvement,  XTTT,  273. 

Western  Literary  Institute  and  College  of  Professional 
Teachers,  XTV.  739. 

Middlesex  County  (Conn.)  School  Association,  XTV 
397 :  XV. 

State  Teachers'  Associations,  Educational  Societies 
and  Conventions— Alabama.  XVI.  375.  Arkansas, 
XVI.  381.  California.  XVI,  785.  Connecticut, 

XV.  393.     Delaware,   XVI.  369.     Florida,  XVI. 
381.      Georgia,   XVI.    358.      Illinois,  XVI.    149. 
Indiana,    XVI.    765.     Iowa.  XVI.  745.     Kansas, 

XVI.  385.      Kentucky,   XVL   352.      Louisiana, 
XVI.  382.     Maine,  XVI.  777.     Maryland,  XVI. 
377.     Massachusetts,   XV.    507.     Michigan,   XV. 
633.     Minnesota,  XVII.     Mississippi,  XVI.    381. 
Missouri,  XVI.  3«>5.     New  Hampshire,  XVI,  751. 
New   Jersey,   XVI.   729.     New  York,  XVI.  349, 
477.     North  Carolina,  XVI.  361.     Ohio,  VI.  532. 
Oregon,    XVI.    383.      Pennsylvania,    XV.    647. 
Rhode  Island,  XIV.  559.     South  Carolina,  XVI. 
364.    Tennessee,   XVI.  357.    Texas,   XVI.  373. 
Vermont,  XV.  617.     Virginia,   XVI-   172.    Wis 
consin,  XTV.  583;  XVII.     District  of  Columbia, 
XVI.  380.     West  Virginia,  XVI.  383. 


XVII.    PHILOLOGY  A\D  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Philological   Contributions,  by  J.  W.  Gibbs,  TJ.  198  ;     Books  of  Reference,  VUL  315. 

m.  101-124.  American   Text   Books— Catalogue  of  Authors  and 

English   Language  in  Society  and  the  School,  by  M.        Books,  XTTT,  209,  401,  626;  XIV.  601,  751 ;  XV, 

H.  Buckham,  XIV.  343.  539. 

Study  of  the   Anglo-Saxon,   or  the   Relation  of  the    Educational   Literature — Book  Notices,  I.  415;  JX 
English  to  other  Languages,  by  J.  S.  Hart,  I.  33.  256,  737,  739  ;    IV.  261,  272,  831  ;    V.  318  ;    IX. 

351 ;  XI.  319  ;  XUJ.  223,  G52  ;  XIV.  400. 
Statistics    of    Newspapers    and    Periodicals    in    the 

United  States  in  1850, 1.  651. 
Educational   Periodicals    of   America,  I,   413,   656. 


Dictionary  of  the  English  Language  ;    Requirements 

in  a  Lexicographer,  by  Isaiah  Dole,  III,  161. 
Modern  Greek  Language,  by  S.  G.  Howe,  H.  193. 
Latin  Language,  from  Raumer,  VII.  471. 
Early  Illustrated  School  Books,  XTTT,  205.    Primers 


Complete  List,  XV.  383. 

and   Hornlinoks,   VTTT,   310.      ABC  Books  and    English   Educational   Journals,  1,^14.     French,  I, 
Primers,  XTT,  593.  413.    German.  I,  413.    Italian,  IV,  802. 

XVIII.    SCHOOL  ARCHITECTURE. 


Defects  in  School  Constructions,  IX.  487. 

Principles  and  Practical  Illustrations  of  School  Archi 
tecture,  by  Henry  Barnard,  IX.  487  ;  X.  6»5;  XI. 
563  ;  XII.  701  ;  XTTT  817  ;  XTV.  778  ;  XV. 
782;  XVI.  701. 

District  Schools,  or  for  Children  of  every  age.  Plan 
by  H.  Mann,  IX.  540 ;  by  G.  B.  Emerson,  542, 
548  ;  by  H.  Barnard,  550,  553,  555  ;  by  R.  S.  Burt, 
556;  by  T.  A.  Teft,  559;  by  A.  D.  Lord,  562 ;  by 
D.  Leach,  563. 

Primary  and  Infant  Schools.  General  Principles,  X, 
695.  Playground  and  Appliances,  X,  697.  School 
room,  by  Wilderspein,  X.  699  ;  by  Chambers,  702  ; 
by  British  and  Foreign  School  Society,  705 ;  by 
National  Society,  706  ;  by  Committee  of  Council 
on  Education,  710 ;  by  Dr.  Dick,  714  ;  by  J.  Ken- 
dal,  715;  by  J.  W.  Ingraham,  for  Boston  Primary 


Schools,  718;  by  J.  D.  Philbrick,  740  ;  by  New  York 
Public  School  Society,  750 ;  in  Providence,  XI. 
583. 

Baltimore  Female  High  School,  V.  198 ;  Cincinnati 
Hughes  High  School,  XTTT,  623;  Boston  Latin 
School,  XII.  551 ;  Woodward  High  School,  IV. 
522  ;  Chicago  High  School.  UJ.  537  ;  High  S. •Imol, 
Hartford.  XI.  606;  Public  High  School,  Mi<!<Hf 
town,  XI.  612  ;  New  York  Free  Academy.  XIV. 
788;  Providence  Public  High  School.  XI.  597; 
Norwich  Free  Academy,  TJ.  696 ;  St.  Louis  High 
S-hool.  I.  348. 

Seminaries  for  Girls.  Packer  Collegiate  Institute, 
Brooklyn,  L  581  ;  Richmond  Female  College,  X, 
231 ;  Public  Grammar  School  for  Girls  in  New 
York,  I.  408;  Providence  Young  Ladies'  High 
School,  V.  14  ;  Vassar  College,  XVH. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD  S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Union  and  Graded  Schools— Plans,  Elevations,  &c., 
X.  563-612;  XH.  701.  Union  School,  Ann  Ar 
bor,  Mich..  VLTI.  91.  Public  Floating  School, 
Bultimore.  V.  -01.  Haven  School  Building,  Chi 
cago,  XIII.  610.  Newberry  Public  School,  Chi- 
cngo,  VI.  513.  Putnam  Free  School,  Newburyport, 
Muss.,  Xni.  1)16.  Public  Schools  No.  20  and  No. 
33,  New  York  City,  VI.  524.  School  Houses  in 
Philadelphia,  XLLT.  «17.  Graded  School,  Simcoe, 
U.  C.,  VLn.  679.  Union  Public  School,  Ypsilanti, 
Mich.,  IV.  780.  Norwich  Central  School,  LI.  699. 
Grammar  Schools — Plans.  Lincoln  Grammar  School, 
Boston,  VI.  518.  D wight  Grammar  School,  Bos 
ton,  IV.  769.  Fifteenth  Ward  (N.  Y.)  Public 
Grammar  School  for  Girls,  I.  409.  Central  High 
School,  Philadelphia,  I.  92;  XTTT,  831.  Grammar, 
Providence,  XI.  5fc8,  594.  Prescott  Grammar, 
XVI.  7 11. 

Normal  Schools— Plans,  Elevations,  &c.  Illinois  State 
Normal  Sclio  .1,  IV.  774.  New  Jersey  State  Nor 
mal  School,  m.  220.  Mnssachusetts  State  Normal 
School  at  Westh'eld,  XII.  653.  New  York  State 
Normal  School,  XHI.  539.  Philadelphia  City 
Normal  Schools,  XIV.  737.  Girls'  High  Normal 
School,  Charleston,  S.  C.,  XIII.  620.  Normal  and 
Model  Schools  at  Toronto,  U.  C.,  XIV.  488.  Os- 
wego  Training  School,  XVI.  213.  New  Britain,  X. 
51.  Bridgewater  Normal  School,  XVI.  466.  Fra- 
mingham,  XVI.  469.  Salem,  XVI.  470. 
Public  Library,  Boston,  VLI.  252.  Cooper  Scientific 
Union,  N.  Y.,  I.  652.  Dudley  Observatory,  Albany, 
I.  594.  Yale  College  in  1764,  V.  722.  American 
Asylum  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb,  Hartford,  Ct..  I. 
440.  New  York  Institution  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb, 
HI.  346.  New  York  Asylum  for  Imbeciles,  Syra 
cuse,  IV.  416.  N.  Y.  State  Geological  Hall.  IV.  781. 
Harvard  Hall,  V.  530.  Yale  College,  1764,  V.  722. 


Apparatus  for  Physical  Exercise.  IX.  530  ;  XI.  539; 

XII.  677  ;  for  illustration,  XIV.  569. 
Blackboard     and    wall-surface,   IX.   546,   563;    X. 

739  ;  XVI.  575. 
Crnyons,  how  made,  XVI.  574. 

Dedicatory  Exercises  and   Addresses,  IH.  193  ;    IX. 
633  ;  XIII.  836  ;   V.  648 ;  XLI.  655  ;  XILI.  532  '; 
XVI.  453  ;  I.  645,  647. 
Drawing-room  and  Desks,  X,  554  ;  XIV.  795  ;  XVI. 

722. 

Furniture  for  Schools,  IX.  551  ;  X,  754  ;  XLI.  687  ; 
Defective   Construction,  IX.  492,  518  ;    XI.  537  ; 
Chase's  Adjustable  Desk,  XILI.  656 ;    Mott's  Re 
volving  Seat,  X.  563. 
Library  of  Reference,  I.  739  ;  IX.  545. 
Location   and   Playground,  IX,  492,  503,  507,   510, 

527,542;  X.  731. 
Privies  and  Facilities  for  Cleanliness,  IX.  520,  539 ; 

X.  728;  XI.  607;  XILT.  853. 
Worming,  IX.  546,  552  ;  X.  705,  727  ;  XI.  584,  598  ; 

XLI.  832 ;  XVI.  579,  713. 

Ventilation  in  American  Dwellings,  V.  35.     In  School 
Houses,  IX.  563,  547,  568 ;    X.  724  ;    XLLI.  612, 
832,  858  ;  XIV.  801 ;  XV.  782  ;  XVI.  716,  727. 
Ornamentation,   X.    731  ;    Mrs.   Sigourney  on,  732 ; 

Salem  High  School,  XIV.  804  ;  IX.  543. 
Specifications,  Terms  of,  X.  733  ;  XLI.  708. 
Seats  and  Desks,  Arrangement  of,  IX.  551 ;  XI.  583 ; 
XLH.  056;  Octagonal  Plan,  XVI.  728;  Barnard's 
plan,  with  division,  X.  760,  761. 
Size  of  building,  XVI.  716. 
Stand,  movable,  for  blackboard,  XVI.  709. 
Furnaces,    XVI.    579,  582 ;     Hot-water    apparatus, 

XVI.  713. 

Rules  for  Care  of  School-house,  XLTI.  851,  857 ;  for 
use  of  Furnaces,  XV.  803 ;  setting  furnace,  XVI. 
584. 


XIX.    EDUCATIONAL  ENDOWMENTS  AND  BENEFACTORS. 


Land  Grants  of  the  Federal  Government  for  Educa 
tional  Purposes,  to  1854,  I.  202  ;  XVLI.  65. 

List  of  Benefactions  to  Harvard  University,  IX.  139. 

List  of  Deceased  Benefactors  of  Yale  College,  X.693. 

Boston  Educational  Charities,  VLTI.  528;  IX.  606. 

Individual  Benefactors.  Samuel  Appleton,  XLI.  403. 
J.  J.  and  W.  B.  Astor,  I.  638.  Joshua  Bates,  VLI. 
270.  John  Bromfield,  V.  521.  Nicholas  Brown, 
ILL  289.  Peter  Cooper,  LV.  526.  Thomas  Dowse, 
HI.  284;  IX.  355.  Mrs.  Blandina  Dudley,  II. 
593.  Edmund  Dwight,  IV.  5.  Peter  Faneuil.  IX. 
603.  Paul  Farnum,  TTT.  397.  John  Green,  XLTI. 


606.  John  Harvard,  V.  523.  Edward  Hopkins, 
IV.  668.  John  Hughes,  IV.  520.  William  Law 
rence,  LI.  33.  John  Lowell,  V.  427.  Theodore 
Lyman,  X.  5.  James  McGill,  VLI.  188.  S.  J. 
North.  VI.  104.  George  Peabody,  I.  237  ;  LI.  642 : 
TTT  226.  T.  H.  Perkins,  I.  551.  Miss  Caroline 
Plummer,  XLH.  73.  John  and  Samuel  Phillips, 
VI.  66.  Henry  Todd,  IV.  711.  Stephen  Van 
Rensselaer,  VI.  223.  Matthew  Vassar,  XI.  53. 
James  Wadsworth,  V.  389.  David  Watkinson,  IV. 
837.  Samuel  Williston,  LI.  173.  William  Wood 
ward,  IV.  520.  Elihu  Yale,  V.  715. 


XX.    MISCELLANEOUS. 


The  Gyroscope,  or  Mechanical  Paradox.  LT.  238.  Ex 
planation  of  the  Gyroscope,  by  E.  S.  Snell,  TJ.  701. 
Treatise  upon  the  Gyroscope,  by  Maj.  J.  G.  Barnard, 
LLT.  537  ;  IV.  529  ;  V.  299. 

Lowe's  Printing  Press,  IX.  636. 

Stereoscope.  Educational  Uses  of,  LX.  632. 

Museum  of  Zoology,  IX.  61. 


Indexes.     Vol.  I.  ix.-xix. ;    TJ.  749  ;    TTT,  819  ;   IV. 

839 ;  V.  851  ;  VI.  317,  623;  VLI.  723  ;  VLTJ.  681  ; 

IX.  637  ;    X.  703  ;    XI.  613  ;    XLT.  731 ;    XILT. 

865  ;    XIV.  817 ;    XV.  829  ;  XVI.  791. 
General  Inctex  to  Vols.  I.  to  V.,  V.  857. 
Classified  Index   to  Vols.  I.   to  XVI..  XVLT.    17- 

40. 


38        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


XXI.    EDUCATIONAL  IIIOGRAPIIY  A\D  LIST  OF  PORTRAITS. 


Abbot,  Benjamin,  VI.  BO. 
Abbott,  Gorlmrn  D.,  XVI.  GOO. 
Agricola,  Rudolph.  IV.  717. 
Adelung,  J.  C  ,  XI.  451. 
Alcott.W.  A,  IV.  629. 
Alcott,  A.  B..  XVI.  130. 
Allen,  C.  H.,  XTV.  396. 
Allen,  F.  A.,  XV.  681. 
Allen,  W.,  X.  365. 
Alexander,  de  Villa  D&i,  IV.  726. 
Andrews,  I.  W.,  XVI.  605. 
Acquaviva,  Claudius,  XIV,  46-2. 
Andrews,  L.,  XVI.  604. 
A|ipleton,  Samuel,  XLI.  403. 
Aristotle,  XIV.  131. 
Arey,  Oliver,  XV.  484. 
Arnold,  Thomas  K.,  IV.  545. 
Astley,  J  ,  IV.  1<>5. 
Aschnm,  Roger,  JTT.  23. 
Aventinus,  XI.  J63. 
Bailey,  Ebeuezer,  XLI.  429. 
linker,  W.  M.,  XVI.  166. 
Baker,  W.  S.,  X.  5Sh!. 
Baldwin,  Thcron,  XV.  261. 
Barnard,  F.  A.  P.,  V.  753. 
Barnard,  Henry,  I.  659, 
Barnard,  John,  I.  307. 
Barnes,  D.  H.,  XTV.  513. 
Busol,  Marquise  de,  HI.  510. 
Biisedow,  T.  B.,  V.  487. 
Basedow,  Emile,  V.  491. 
Bateman,  Newton,  XVI.  165. 
Bates,  J.,  VII.  270. 
Bates,  S.  P.,  XV.  682. 
Beck,  T.  Romeyn,  I.  654. 
Beecher,  Mist  C.  E  ,  XV.  250. 
Benton,  A.  R.,  XVI.  775. 
Bell,  Andrew,  X.  467. 
liiid,  V.  «6. 

Hingham,  Caleb,  V.  325. 
Bishop,  Nathan,  XVI. 
Blewett,  B.  T.,  XVI.  431. 
Bodiker,  J.,  XI.  437. 
Boccaccio,  VLI.  422. 
Boyd,  E.  J.,  XV.  645. 
Braidwood,  J  ,  ITT.  348. 
Bridgrnan.  Laurn,  IV.  383 
Brainerd,  J  ,  XVI.  331. 
Borgi,  Jean,  I.  583. 
Bromfield,  John,  V.  521. 
Brooks,  Charles.  L  581. 
Brougham,  Lord,  VI.  467. 
Brown,  J.  Horace,  XV.  764. 
Brown,  Nicholas.  TTT,  2S)I. 
Buckingham.  J.  T.,  If  TTT,  129. 
Buckley,  J.  W.,  XTV.  28. 
Burrowei,  T.  H.,  VI.  107,  555. 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCHES. 
Burtt.  Andrew,  XV.  679. 
Burton,  Warren,  JJ.  333. 
Busch,  V.  727. 
Butler,  Caleb,  JJ.  54. 
Butler,  J.  I).,  XVTJ. 
Butler,  Cyrus,  IJJ.  310. 
Buss,  Johannes,  V.  293. 
Caklwell,  C.,  XVI.  109. 
Calhoun,  W.  B.,  XV.  212. 
Cssariui,  J.,  IV.  2  5. 
Carlton,  Oliver.  XV.  523. 
Carter,  James,  V.  337. 
Carter,  J.  G.,  V.  407. 
Cecil,  Sir  W.,  IV.  161. 
Cheever,  E/ekk-l,  I.  297 ;  XU.  530. 
Cheke,  Sir  John,  IV.  168. 
Chrysoloras,  Emamiel,  VU.  440. 
Clajus,  Johannes,  XL  412. 
Claxton,  Timothy,  VHX  253. 
Clerc,  Laurent,  IJJ.  349. 
Coburn,  C.  R..  XV.  679. 
Coclenius,  C.,IV.  2  5. 
Coffin,  J.  II.,  XVI.  784. 
Colburn,  Dana  P.,  XI.  289. 
Colburn,  Warren,  TJ.  294. 
Colet,  John,  VLTJ.  2'J1  ;  XVI.  405. 
Cornenius,  V.  25. 
Cosmo  de  Medici.  VLT.  445. 
Conover.  A.  M..  XIV.  3U3. 
Cowley,  A..XJJ.  «51. 
Courteilles,  M.de,  TTTT  704. 
Corston,  William,  X.  363. 
Corte,  P.  A..  IV.  4H1. 
Cowdrcy,  M.  F.,  XVL  589. 
Craig,  A.  J.,  XIV.  394. 
Crato.  V. 

Cross,  M.  K.,  XVI.  751. 
Cruikshank,  J.,  XV.  4a5. 
Crozet.  Claude,  XTTT  31. 
Curtis,  Joseph,  I.  <>55. 
Curtis,  T.  W.  T.,  XV.  607. 
Dante.  VLT.  418. 
Davies,  Charles,  XV.  479. 
Davis,  Wm.  Van  L.,  XV.  675. 
Day.  J.,  XVI.  126. 
Den  man.  XV.  395.  . 

Denzel,  B.  G.,  VLT.  315. 
Del il lee,  J.,  TTT,  158. 
Dewey,  Chester,  XV.  477. 
Dewitt,  G.  A..  V.  17. 
Dienterwfv.  VII.  312. 
Dirk,  Jnnip>,  I.  392. 
Dinter.  VLT.  153. 
Donatus,  XVIJ. 

Dowse,  Thomas.  TTT  284 ;  IX,  355. 
Dringenberg,  Louis.  V.  65 
Dudley,  Mrs.  E.,  JJ.  598. 


Dunnell,  M.  IL,  XVI.  783. 
Duncan,  Alexander.  TTT,  311. 
Dwight,  Edmund,  IV.  5. 
Dwight,  F,  V.803. 
Dwight,  Theodore,  XIV.  558. 
Dwight,  Timothy,  V.  567. 
Eaton,  Theophiius,  I.  298  ;  V.  30. 
Ebranlt,  U.,  XL  160. 
Edson,  H.  K.,  XVI.  750. 
Edwards,  B.  B  ,  XIV.  381. 
Edwards,  Richard,  XVI.  169. 
Elyott,  Sir  Thomas.  XVL  483. 
Emerson,  G.  B.,  V.  417. 
Erasmus,  IV.  729. 
Ernesti,  I.  A.,  V.  750. 
Everett,  Edward,  VLT.  325. 
Faneuil,  P.,  XI.  603. 
Farnum,  Paul,  TTT,  397. 
Farnham.G.L..  XV.  483. 
Faville,  O.,  XVI.  750. 
Fellenberg,  E.,  TTT  591. 
Felton,  C.  C.,  X.  265. 
Fenelon,  XUJ.477. 
Fisk,  Wilbur,  VI.  297. 
Fliedner,  T.,  I.  :  LTL  487. 
Ford,  Jonathan,  XIV.  395. 
Froebel,  F.,  IV.  ",»t 
Fowle,  X.  5'J7. 

Franklin,  B.,  I.  45:  VIII.  25L 
Fuller,  Thomas,  TTT,  155. 
Fox,  X.  363. 
Fry,  Elizabeth,  TTT  508. 
Frangk,  Fabian,  XL  163. 
Franke,  V.,  441. 
Frisch,  J.  L.,  XI.  439. 
Gall,  James.  IV. 
Gallaudet,  T.  H.,  I.  417. 
Gottsched,  J.  C.,  XL  448. 
Galloway,  P.,  XVI.  601. 
Geneintz,  Christian,  XL  426. 
George  of  Trebizond,  VLT.  440. 
Gesner,  J.  M.,  V.  741. 
Gerard,  IV.  622. 
Goodnow,  I.  T.,  XVL  386. 
Goodrich,  S.  G..  XLTJ.  134. 
Green,  John,  XLTJ.  006. 
Grant,  Mi**,  X.  l'>"*i 
Gubert.  John,  XI.  42. 
Greene.  S.  S..  XIV.  600. 
Grimm,  J  .  XI.  454. 
(Jr.-jnrv.  .1    M.,   XV. 
Goswin,  IV.  715. 
Griscom,  John,  VUL  325. 
Gunrino,  VU.  43t>. 
Guilford,  Nathan.  VTTT.  289. 
Guizot,  XT,  254. 
Hagar,  I).  B .,  XV.  217. 


CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


39 


Hadden,  IV.  1C4. 

Hall,  S.  R.,  V.  373. 

Hull,  W.,  XV.  127. 

Halm,  V.  625. 

Hamann,  J.  G.,  VI.  247. 

Hancock,  .1.,  XVI.  002. 

Harnisch,  Wilhelm,  VII.  317. 

Hart,  J.  S.,  V.  91. 

Harvard,  John,  V.  523. 

Harvey,  T.  H.,  XVI.  608. 

Hauherle,  V.  509. 

Haiiy,  V.,  TTT,  477. 

Hawley,  G,  XI,  94. 

Hazeltine,  L.,  XV.  481. 

Hecker,  V.  (595. 

Hedges,  Nathan,  XVI,  737. 

Hegius,  Alexander,  IV,  723. 

Henkle,  XVI. 

Herder,  VI.  195. 

Higginson,  John,  XHI.  724. 

Hillhonse,  James,  VI.   325. 

Holbrook,  J.,Vin.  229;  XIV,  558. 

Hopkins,  Mark,  XI.  219 

Hovey,  C.  E.,  VTTT.  95. 

Howe,  S.  G.,  XI.  389. 

Hoole,  C.,  XII.  647. 

Hopkins,  E.,  IV.  668. 

Hoss,  G.  W.,  XVI.  775. 

Hubbard,  F.,  XV. 

Hubbard,  R.,  V.  316. 

Huntington,  XV.  606. 

Hurty,  J.,  XVI.  776. 

Ickelsamer,  XI.  402. 

Ives,  M.  B.,  V.  311. 

John  of  Ravenna,  VII.  435. 

Johnson.  Sumuel,  VII.  461. 

Johnson,  Walter  R.,  V.  781. 

Jones,  R.  D.,  XV.  481. 

Kelly,  Robert,  I.  655  ;  X.  313. 

Kempis,  Thomas  a,  IV.  626. 

Kingsbury,  John,  V.  9. 

Kneeland,  John,  XV.  526. 

Krachenberger,  V.  79. 

Kriisi,  Hermann,  V.  161. 

Kyrle,  John,  the  "Man  of  Ross,' 

IE.  654. 

Ladd,  J.  J.,  XIV.  592. 
Lancaster,  Joseph,  X.  355. 
Lange,  Rudolph,  IV.  726. 
Lawrence.  Abbot,  I,  205. 
Leo  X.,  VIE.  454. 
Lewis,  Samuel,  V.  727. 
Lindsley,  Philip.  VLT.  9. 
Locke,  John,  VI.  209. 
Long,  W.,  XVI.  497. 
Lord,  A.  D.,  XVI.  607. 
Lowell,  John,  V.  427. 
Loyola,  Ignatius,  XTV.  455. 
Lycurgus,  XIV.  611. 
Lyman  Theodor^  X.  5. 
Lyon,  Mary,  X.  649. 


Lawrence,  Amos,  XVLT. 
Lawrence,  William,  H.  33. 
May,  Samuel  J.,  XVI.  141. 
McDonqugh,  John,  H.  736. 
McGill,  James,  VII.  188. 
McJilton,  J.  N.,  XVII. 
McKeen,  Joseph,  I.  655. 
McMynn,  XIV.  391. 
Mann,  Horace,  V.  611. 
Marks,  D.,  V.  64. 
Marvin,  J.  G.,  XVI.  626. 
Mason,  Lowell,  IV.  141. 
Mayhew,  Ira,  XV.  641. 
Medici,  Lorenzo  di,  VH.  445. 
Melancthon,  Philip,  IV.  741. 
Micyllus,  IV.  464. 
Mildmny,  Sir  W.,  IV.  164. 
Mirandola,  Picus  di,  VIE.  449. 
Milton,  John,  XIV.  159. 
Morhof,  XI.  436. 
Morse,  Augustus,  XV.  608. 
Mowry,  William  A.,  XIV.  592. 
Nagali,  VIE.  300. 
Neander,  V.  599. 
Niederer,  VII.  289. 
North,  Ed  ward,  XV.  486. 
North,  S.  J.,  VI.  104. 
Northend,  C.,  XV.  220. 
Oberlin,  XVII- 
Oelinger,  XI.  406. 
Olivier,  V.  508. 
Olmsted,  Denison,  V.  367. 
Orbilius,  TTT   157. 
Orcutt,  XV.  630. 
Overberg,  XIII.  365. 
Page,  D.  P.,  V.  811. 
Parish,  A.,  XV.  523. 
Partridge,  A.,  XILT.  49,  683. 
Penbody,  George,  I.  328  ;  XVII. 
Peabody,  S.  H.,  XIV.  395. 
Pease,  Calvin,  XV.  631. 
Peckham,  J.,  XVI.  743. 
Peers,  B.  O.,  XVI.  147. 
Peet,  H.  P.,  HI.  365. 
Peirce,  C.,  IV.  275. 
Pelton,  J.C.,  XVI.  626. 
Perkins,  T.  H.,  I.  551. 
Pestalozzi,  HI.  401. 
Phelps,  W.  F.,  V.  827. 
Petrarch,  VII.  424. 
Philbrick,  J.  D.,  XIV.  32. 
Philelphus,  VLT.  441. 
Phillips,  John,  VI.  75. 
Phillips,  S.,  VI.  66. 
Pickard,  J.  L.,  XIV.  392. 
Picket,  Aaron,  XIV.  393. 
Picket,  Albert.  XVIJ. 
Picus,  J  ,  VII.  449. 
Pierce,  J.  D.,  XV.  640. 
Plamann,  VII.  309. 
Platter,  Thomas,  V.  79. 


Phimmer.  Caroline,  XHI.  73- 
Poggius,  VH.  44'2. 
Politian,  VII.  445. 
Pomeroy,  E.  C.,  XV.  486. 
Potter,  Alonzo,  XVI.  599.       • 
Powell,  W.  H.,  XVI.  167. 
Pradt,  J.  B.,  XIV.  394. 
Putnam,  D.,  XV.  646. 
Radwin,  Florentius,  IV.  623. 
Ramsauer,  J.,  VLT.  301. 
Randall,'  S.  S.,  XHI.  227. 
Ratich,  V.  229. 

Ray,  J.,  XVI.  603. 

Raumer,  IV.  149. 
Redfield.  W.  C.,  IV.  833. 
Reuchlin,  V.  67. 
Rice,  V.  M.,  XV.  391. 
Richards.  Z.,  XIV.  23. 
Richard,  C.  S.,  XVI.  764. 
Richardson,  M.,  XV.  605, 
Rickoff,  A.  J.,  XIV  24. 
Ripley,  E.  L.,  XV.  645. 
Robbins,  T.,  HI.  279. 
Rousseau,  V.  459. 
Russell,  W.,  HT.  139. 
Rytwise,  J.,  XVI.  682. 
Sams,  XVI.  602. 
Sanborn,  E.  D.,  XVI.  762. 
Sandinus,  VII. 
Sapidus,  V.  66. 
Sarmiento,  XVI.  593. 
Sargano,  VII.  435. 
Sawyer,  H.  E  ,  XVI.  763. 
Scheurl,  C.,  XI.  161. 
Schmidt,  VII.  297. 
Seymour,  D.,  X.  321. 
Sheldon,  E.  A.,  XV.  484. 
Sheldon,  W.  E.,  XV.  525. 
Sherwin.  T.,  VHI.  461. 
Shottelius,  XI.  429. 
Sill,  D.  M.  B  ,  XV.  645. 
Slade,  W.,  XV.  250. 
Simler,  V.  66. 

Smith,  Sir  Thomas,  IV.  165. 
Spicer,  A.  C.,  XIV.  392. 
Standish,  J.  V.  N.,  XVI.  165. 
Stearns,  XV.  524. 
Sticler,  XI.  435. 
Stoddard,  J.  V.,  XV.  480. 
Stone,  A.  P.,  XV.  219. 
Stowe,  C.  E.,  V.  586. 
Strong,  E.  F.%,  XV.  607. 
Sturm,  IV.  1»>7. 
Swett,  J.,  XVI.  790. 
Tappan,  H.  P.,  XHI.  451. 
Taylor,  J.  O.,  XV.  248. 
Thayer,  G.  F.,  IV.  613, 
Tenney,  J.,  XVI.  761. 
Thayej,  Sylvanus,  XVII. 
Thomasius,  J.,  V.  74-2. 
Thompson,  J.  B.,  XV.  487. 


40        CLASSIFIED  INDEX  OF  BARNARD'S  AMERICAN  JOURNAL  OF  EDUCATION. 


Thompson,  Z.,  I.  654. 
Tillinghast,  N.,  L  655. 
Tobler,  J.  G  ,  V.  '205. 
Todd,  Henry,  IV.  711. 
Trotzendorf,  V.  H)7. 
Valentine,  T.  \V.,  XV.  48-2. 
Valla,  VJJ.  443. 
Van  Rensseliter,  VL  223. 
Vassar,  M  ,  XI.  53. 
Vehrli,  TTT  3H9. 
Vetrier,  XVI.  665. 
Vitellius,  XVI.  669. 
Vittorino,  VII.  436. 
Von  Turk,  V.  155 


Wads  worth.  J.,  V.  3881 
Warton.J.,  XVL511. 
Wayliind,  F.,  XTTT,  771. 
Watkiniun,  I)..  IV.  837. 
Welch,  A.  S.,  XV.  642. 
Weld,  T  ,  XV.  234. 
Wells.  F.  I).,  XVI- 
Wells,  W.  II.,  VHL  529. 
Werner,  G.,  IV.  7UU. 
Wessel,  IV.  714. 
Weston,  E.  P.,  XVI.  784. 
White,  E.  E.,  XVI.  606. 
Wickersham,  J.  P..  XVI.  28*. 
Wicheru,  HI.  5. 


Willard,  Mm.  Emmn,  VI.  125. 
Wunj>heling,  V.  65. 
Wme»,  E.  C.,  IX.  'J. 
Wolf,  F.  A.,  VI.  -260. 
Woodbndge,  W.  C.,  V.  51. 
Woodbridge,  W.,  XVI   136. 
Woodman,  J.  S.,  XVL  761. 
Woolworth,  S.  B.,  XV.  498. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  XV.  1'23. 
Wright,  L.,  n.  176. 
Wykehom,  William  of,  XVI.  497. 
Yale,  Elilui,  V.  7J5. 
Zeller,  VIL  305. 
Zerbult,  Gerurd,  IV.  625. 


Abbott,  Gorham  D.,  XVI.  600. 
Alcott,  W.  A.,  IV.  6iJ>. 
Allen,  F.  A.,  XV.  6i-2. 
Andrews,  I.  W.,  XVI.  605. 
Appleton,  Samuel,  XH.  1. 
Arnold,  Thomus,  IV.  545. 
Bailey,  Ebenezer.  XII.  401. 
Baker,  W.  S.,  XIV.  401. 
Baldwin,  Theron,  XV.  269. 
Barnard,  F.  A.  P.,  V.  753. 
Barnard,  Henry,  I.  1. 
Bateman,  N.,  XVI.   166. 
Bates,  S.  P.,  XV.  1. 
Bishop,  N.,  XVII. 
Blewett,  B.  G.,  XVI.  432. 
Brooks,  Charles,  I.  587. 
Brown,  Nicholas,  IJJ.  291. 
Bulkley,  J.  W.,  XIV.  28. 
Burrowes,  T.  II..  VI.  107. 
Camp,  D.  N..  XV.  605. 
farter,  J.  G.,  V.  407. 
Coburn,  C.  R.,  XV.  679. 
Colburn,  D.  P.,  XI.  289. 
Colburn,  Warren,  n.  294. 
Davies,  Charles,  XV.  479. 
Dowse,  Thomas,  IX.  355. 
Dwight,  Edmund,  IV.  1. 
Dwight,  Francis,  V.  803. 
Edwards,  Richard,  XVI.  167. 
Emerson,  G.  B.,  V.  417. 
Everett,  E.,  VII.  3'25. 
Farnum,  Paul,  TTT,  397. 
Faville,  O.,  XVI,  759. 
Felton,  C.  C.,  X.  265. 
Fiik,  Wilbur,  VI.  '297. 
Fowle.  W.  B.,  X.  597. 
Gallaudet,  T.  II,  I.  417. 
Galloway,  S.,  XVI.  601. 
Garfield,  James  A.    XVJJ.  1- 
Goodnow,  I.  T.,  XVI.  3H7. 
Green,  John,  XIJI.  606. 
Greene,  98.,  XIV.  609. 
Gregory,  J.  M.,  XV.  643. 


PORTRAITS. 

Griscom,  John,  VJJI.  325. 
Hagar,  D.  B.,  XV.  517. 
Hall,  S.  R.,  XV.  5. 
Hart,  J.  S..  V.  91. 
Haiiy,  V..  m.  477. 
Hazeltine,  L  ,  XV.  481. 
Henkle,  William  D.,  XVI.  432 
Hillhouse,  James,  VI.  345. 
Holbrook,  Josiah,  VIII,  1. 
Hopkins,  Murk,  XI.  219. 
Hovey,  C.  E.,  XIJJ.  94. 
Howe,  S.  G.,  XI.  321. 
Johnson,  W.  R.,  V.  781. 
Kelley,  Robert,  X.  313. 
Kingsbury,  John,  V.  9. 
Lawrence,  Abbott,  I.  137. 
Lawrence,  VVillinm,  II.  1. 
Lewis,  Samuel,  V.  727. 
Lindsley,  Philip,  VIL  9. 
Lord,  A.  D.,  XVI.  M7. 
Lynmn.  Theodore,  X.  1. 
Lyon,  Mary,  3|.  609. 
McCarty,  II.  D ,  XVI.  388. 
McGill,  James,  VJJ.  188. 
McJilton,  J.  X.,  XVH. 
McMynn,  J.  G.,  XIV.  391. 
Mann,  Horace,  V.  611. 
Mason,  Lowell.  IV.  141. 
Mayhew,  Ira,  XV.  641. 
North,  E..  XVU. 
North,  S.  J..  VI.  104. 
Northern!,  Charles.  XVI.  510. 
Olmsted,  Denison.  V.  367. 
Orcutt,  Hirnm,  XV.  630. 
Page.  D.  P.,  V.  811. 
Parish,  A.,  XV.  » 
Partridge,  AM™,  XTJT  657. 

Piv-llic'dv.  (icnrir*1.  II 

Peckhnrn.  fsaif.li,  XVI.  743. 
Peet,  H.  P  ,  TTT  366. 
Peirce,  Cym>.  IV.  '275. 
Perkins,  T.  H  .  I.  551. 
Pestalozzi,  IV.  65. 


Phelps,  Mrs.  A.  Lincoln,  XVU. 
Phelps,  W.  F.,  V.  H-27. 
Philbrick,  J.  1).,  XIV.  3-2. 
Phillips,  Samuel.  VI.  66. 
Pickard,  J.  L.,  XIV.  129. 
Potter,  Alon/o,  XVI.  1. 
Randall,  S.  S ,  1C  TTT,  227. 
Ray.  I.,  XVI.  603. 
Richards,  Z.,  XIV.  23. 
Rickolf,  A.  J.,  XIV.  24. 
Russell,  VVillinm.  TTT   139. 
Ryerson,  E.,  XVII. 
Sarmiento,  D.  F.,  XVI.  -VJ3. 
Sawyer,  II.  E.,  XVI.  7<B. 
Scammon,  Jos.  T.,  XVJJ. 
Scars,  B.,  XVJJ. 
Sheldon,  E.  A.,  XV.  484. 
Sheldon,  W.  E..  XV.  5-25. 
Sherwin,  Thomas,  VUI.  461. 
Sillinmn,  Benjamin,   XVTJ. 
Stand ish,  J.  V.  N.,  XVI.  165. 
Stoddnrd,  J.  F.,  XV.  675. 
Stone,  A.  P.,  XV.a)9. 
Stowe,  C.  E  ,  V.  -r>86. 
Swett,  John,  XVI.  790. 
Tappan,  H.  P.,  XIJI.  449. 
Thayer,  Sylvaims.  XVIJ. 
Thayer,  G.  F.,  IV.  613. 
Tillinghast,  N.,  JJ.  568. 
Van  Renwelaer,  Stephen,  VI.  223. 
Vassar,  Matthew,  XI.  I. 
Wadsworth,  James,  V.  389. 
Watkinson,  David,  XVTJ. 
Wayland.Franris.  XTJL  1. 
Weil*.  P.  F.,  XVI.  '  1H. 
Wells.  W.  II.,  VIII.  529. 
Weston,  E.  P  ,  XVI.  783. 
Whit  ford.  W.  C  ,  XVU. 
Wichern,  J.  H..  HJ.  I. 
Wickenhitm.  J.  P  .  XV.  677 
Willard,  Mrs.  Emma,  VI.  1 
Wines,  E.  C.,  IX.  9. 
Woolworth,  S.  B.,  XV.  385. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES 


BARNARD'S  AMERICAN   JOURNAL   OF   EDUCATION. 

[VOLUME  xvn — xxiv,  ENTIRE  SERIES.] 

With  References  to  the  Classified  Index  to  Volumes  1—XVI,  and  the  General  Index  to  Volumes  I—V, 
including  subjects  which  will  be  still  further  treated  in  the  International  Series  (I.  S.) 


Aarau,  Teachers  Seminary,  vii,  509;  xx,  35. 

A-B-C  Books  and  Methods,  xvii,  27. 

A-B-C,  Shooters  and  Bacchants,  xvii,  27. 

Abacus,  xi,  (513. 

Ahbenrode.  Geography  and  History,  xvii,  19. 

Abbot,  B.,  Memoir  and  Jubilee,  xvii,  38. 

Abbot,  G.  D.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  19. 

Abbot,  Jacob,  The  Teacher,  i,  769;  v,  857. 

Abbey,  xxiv,  835 ;  I.  S. 

Abelard,  Schools  and  Teaching,  xxiv,  835. 

Aberdeen,  Burgh  School,  xix,  817. 

University,  xxiv,  817. 

Reformatory  Movement,  v,  857. 
Abo,  University,  xxiv,  217. 
Abrahanson,  xiv,  62(5;  xx,  458. 
Absence,  xvii,  27  ;  xix,  421 ;  xx,  769. 

German  Rule,  xxii,  749. 
Abstract  and  Abstraction,  xvi,  260. 
Abyssinia,  xviii,  805. 
Academical  Degrees,  Origin,  v,  857,  865. 
Academical  Degrees,  xx,  9, 16;  xxiv,  837. 
Academic  Education,  Ancient,  xxiv,  835. 

England,  182(5— Macaulay,  I.  S.  451. 
Academic  Statutes,  xxiv,  752.  [xiv,  740. 

Academic  Pioneer,  first  Ed.  Journal  in  the  West, 
Academic  Board,  xxiii,  961. 

Academic  Senate,  xix,  665  ;  I.  S.  [495. 

Academic  Turbulence— Ancient  and  Modern,  xxiv. 
Academician,  School  Journal,  18,  i,  818;  vii,  753. 

Analysis  of  Contents,  I.  S. 
Academy,  v,  a57;  vii,  434;  xvii,  32,  561. 

Athens,  xxiv,  23. 

France,  xx,  769. 
Academies  in  179(5  and  1800,  xxiv,  136,  835. 

Census  of  1840,  171;  1850,  I.  368;  1870,  S.  V. ' 

Massachusetts  Policy,  xvii,  574;  S.  V  I.,  455. 

New  England,  xvii,  32;  Nonconformists,  32. 

New  York  Policy,  v,  876 ;  I.  S. 

Free,  xvii,  32. 

Pennsylvania  Policy,  vi,  623. 

Circular  for  Information,  xvii,  561. 
Academy,  defined,  vi,  244 ;  xvi,  791. 
Ackland,  H.  W.,  xxiii,  479. 
Acoustics  and  Light,  xii,  731 ;  xxiv,  835. 
Acoustics,  in  Music,  viii,  635. 
Acqnaviva,  C.,  Ratio  Studiorum,  v,  216;  xvii,  19. 
Acquisition,  Instinct  of,  xvii,  27. 
Act,  The,  for  Degree  at  Oxford,  I.  S. 

Exercises,  1311,  1(528,  1704.  1714,  1733,  I.  S. 

Terrue  Filius— Tripos  Verses-Music  Speeches, 
Acting  Plays,  v,  857;  vii,  372;  xvii,  27.  [I.  S. 

Activity,  Independent,  xii,  731;  xvii,  27;  xix,  612. 
Actus,  or  Closing  Exercises  of  a  Gymnasium,  v,  362. 
Accomplishments,  vi,  317;  xxiii,  379. 
Accuracy,  vii,  31 ;  xii,  865;  xxiii,  961. 
Adalbert,  xxiv,  353. 

Adam,  Rector  of  Edinburgh  High  School,  xxii,  903. 
Adams,  F.  C.,  Art  at  the  Capitol,  xix,  725. 


Adams,  John,  Constitution  of  Mass.,  xvii,  19,  85. 

Adams  Academy  at  Quincy,  I.  S. 
Adams,  John  Q.,  xvii,  19,  125 ;" xix,  889 ;  S.  V.1  670. 
Nat.  Univ'ty— Observatory— Smithsonian,  I.  S. 
Adams,  Francis,  Am.  Free  School  System,  I.  S. 
Adams,  Samuel,  Town  School  and  Academy,  I.  S. 
Adams,  W.  J.,  School-houses,  ii,  241. 
Addiscombe,  Military  School,  iv,  811 ;  xxiii,  536. 
Addison,  Joseph,  xvi,  19, 1.  S. 
Adelung,  J.  C.,  xvii,  19. 
Admission  to  Public  Schools,  xix,  423. 
Admission  to  Special  Schools,  xvii,  791. 

Military  Schools,  xxiii,  861. 
Administration,  xx,  769  ;  xxiv,  835. 
Adolescence,  Training,  xvi,  427. 
Adornment  of  Schools,  v,  857. 
Adrian  IV,  at  Louvain,  xxiv,  789. 
Adults,  Schools,  v,  857:  ix,  399;  xvii,  27,  35;  xx, 

769 ;  xxi,  80,  801 ;  xxiii,  961. 
Female,  i,  (534. 

Adventists  and  Annihilationists,  S.  V.  I.,  662. 
Adventure  Schools,  ix,  226 ;  xxii,  903. 
Advertisements,  through  the  School,  xix,  424. 
Advice  on  Studies  and  Conduct,  xvii,  27;   xxiii, 
Contents  of  Volume,  xxiii,  973.  [963,  970. 

Aerolites,  xviii,  14. 
^Eschylus,  v,  681. 
^Esop,  Fables,  xiv,  817. 
^Esthetics,  xix,  579 ;  xxi,  801 ;  xxiii,  961. 
Deficiency  in  U.  S.,  xix,  579,  890. 
Recognized  in  Sparta,  xiv,  621. 
Afra,  School  of  St.,  xx,  531. 
Africa,  xviii,  805. 

j  African  Schools  in  U.  S.,  xix,  889. 
I  Agassiz,  L.,  xvii,  19;  I.  S. 

Age,  for  School  Attendance,  xix,  889;  xxiii,  861. 
Aggrege,  in  France,  xx,  317. 
Agnew.  J.  H.,  v,  857. 
Agricola,  Rudolph,  xvii,  19. 
Agricultural  Reform  Schools,  iii,  819  ;  v,  857. 
Agricultural,  or  Rural  Districts,  xv,  303. 

Supply  Cities  with  Fresh  Talent,  xv,  204. 
Agricultural  Schools,  details  of  Instr.,  xxi,  801. 

Military  Tactics  in,  xxiii,  961. 

i  Agriculture,  v,  857;  vi,  317;  xvii,  33,  334;   xviii, 
183,  623.  [191. 

Schools,  xvii,  33;   xviii,  212;  xxi,  801;  xxiii, 
Reform  Schools,  xvii.  34;  xxii,  626;  xxiv,  731. 
Common  Schools,  xx,  801. 
Department,  xviii,  183. 

i  Agronomic  Institute  at  Versailles,  viii,  548. 
j  Aiken,  John,  Art  of  Seeing,  xxiii,  239. 
l  Aime-Martin,  L.,  Education  of  Mothers,  i,  772. 
j  Air-pump,  first  in  America,  x.  603. 
!  Airy,  G.  B.,  xxiii,  448.  [348. 

Akerly,  S.,  Pioneer  in  Deaf-mute  Instruction,  iii, 

Institution  for  the  Blind,  S.  V.,  497. 
Akroyd,  E.,  Factory  Population,  xvii,  19. 

(49) 


50 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Alaska,  xviii.  482. 

Alain,  School  of  Mines,  xxi,  801. 

Alabama,  xviii,  805. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  103;  xxiv,  713. 

Common  Schools  in  1840  and  1850,  xvii,  464; 
in  1870,  xxiv.  227. 

Colleges,  xvii.  S.  V.1  546. 

Colored  Population,  xix,  223,  889. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvii,  36. 

Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts,  S.  V.  571. 

Female  Seminaries,  S.  V.  572. 
Albany,  Schools,  xix,  NS«.». 

Geological  Hall,  iv,  785. 

Normal  School,  xvii,  703. 

Dudley  Observatory,  xvii,  83. 
Albert,  Prince,  v,  a57;  xvii,  19  ;  xxii.  903. 
Albert,  the  Great  of  Cologne,  xxiv,  770. 
Alcala  University,  xxiv,  777. 
Alcott,  A.  B.,  Memoir,  I.  S.  [19.;  1.8. 

Reminiscences  of  Schools  as  they  were,  xvii, 
Alcott.  W.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Memoir  of  W.  C.  Woodbridge,  v,  51. 

Slate  and  Blackboard  Exercises,  i,  771. 

Confessions  of  a  Schoolmaster,  i,  770. 
Alcuin,  xxiv.  44,  339. 
Alexandria.  Schools.  &c.,  xxiv,  33,  464,  510,  835. 

Museum,  xxiv,  835. 

Medical  School,  xxiv,  467. 
Alexander  de  Villa  Dei,  v.  837;  xvii,  38. 
Alfonzo  X,  xxiv,  835:  Code  of  1254,  I.  S. 
Alfort,  Veterinary  School,  xxi,  801. 
Alfred,  the  Great,  x,  763;  I.  S. 
Algebra,  xvii.  27;  xxiii.  460;  xxiv,  37,  835. 
Algiers,  v,  857:  xviii,  805. 
Algorism,  vi,  22.  317. 
Allen,  C.  H.  and  F.  A.,  xvii,  38. 
Allen.  William,  Doer  of  Good,  x,  365. 
Allen's  Reading  Tables,  xvi,  571. 
Allurements  to  Study— Praise,  xvii,  29;  xi,  71. 
Allyn.  R.,  Schools  of  Rhode  Island,  xvii,  19. 
Allston,  Washington,  American  Art,  x,  276. 
Alms,  Practice  of  Begiring  by  Students,  xxiv,  99. 
Altorf  University,  vi,  317;  vii,  723. 
Altenstein.  xvii,  441 ;  xx,  363.  411. 
Alphabet.  Methods  of  Teaching,  v,  857;  viii,  383; 

x.  769 ;  xvii,  27.  197 :  xix,  553. 
Alumnea,  vii,  723;  xix,  659. 

Ambition  as  a  Motive,  xi,  116;  xx,  267;  xxiii.  %1. 
Ambulatory  Schools,  xvi,  31:  xxii,  708;  xxiv,  214. 
America,  General  View,  xviii.  805.  [xix,  801. 

American  Polity  and  Universal  Education,  v,  868; 
American  Public  School.  Hist.  Development,  I.  S. 

Family  and  Neighborhood,  S.  V.  346. 

Church.  Congregation,  Town,  S.  V.  847. 

State  and  Church— Puritan,  S.  V.  395. 

State  and  Church— Protestant.  I.  S. 

State— Irrespective  of  Sect,  I.  S. 
American  Schools,  about  1800,  xxiv,  137,  159. 

United  States,  xvi,  30,  81,  32,  33;  xxiv,  225. 

General  View,  S.  V.1,  333. 

American  Association  for  Advancement  of  Edu 
cation,  v,  857;  xv,  829;  xvii,  35.     • 
American  Asylum  for  Deaf-mutes,  v,  858;  S.  V.  684. 
American  Institute  of  Instruction,  xvii.  35. 

Index  Lectures  and  Proceedings,  v,  858,  241. 
American  Journal  of  Education,  xvii,  9. 

Notices  of  the  Press  in  18T>6,  I.  S.,  41. 

Notices  of  the  Press  in  1875,  I.  S.,  47. 

Special  Index  at  the  end  of  each  Volume. 

Classified  Index  to  Volumes  I-XVI,  xvii,  17. 

General  Index  to  Volumes  I— V,  v,  857-888. 

Gen.  Index  to  Subjects,  XVII-XXIV,  I.  S.,49. 
American  Journal  of  Education,  1826-30,  v,  858. 
American  Pedagogy— Contents,  xxiii,  973. 
American  Preceptor,  of  Bingham,  v,  839. 
American  School  Society.  \*'>\.  y,  64. 
American  Common  School  Society,  xv.  -211. 
American  Education  Society,  xh 
American  Lyceum,  xiv,  535. 
American  Social  Science  Association,  xvi,  391. 
American  Sunday  School  Union,  xv,  705. 


American  Text  Books,  xiii.  865;  S.  V.  539. 

American  Women's  Education  Association, xv,  273. 

Amherst  College*  v.  858.  S.  V. 

Growth  and  Endowments,  I.  S. 

Amusements,  iii,  816;  x,  763:  xvii.  27. 

Anaclet,  Christian  Brothers,  xx,  275. 

Analysis  and  Analytic  Methods,  xvii.  27;  xxiii,  961. 

Anatomy,  vii.  281 ;  ix,  637;  xxiii,  861. 

Ancient'civili/.ation.  xxiv,  468;  Refuge,  536. 

Ancient  and  Modern  I. animates,  I.  S.  456. 

Anderson,  II.  J.,  Physical  Science,  xvii,  19. 

Anderson,  John,  xxii,  31. 

Andersonian  University,  xxii,  41. 

Anderson,  T.  C.,  Cumberland  I  Diversity,  v,  868. 

Andover,  Academy,  vi,  317  ;  xvi,  791. 

Act  Incorporating  Phillips  Academy,  vi,  73. 

Andover  Theological  Seminar}-,  xviii,  204 ;  S.  V.  560. 

Andreas,  Valerius,  xxiv.  788. 

Andrew,  John  A.,  National  Land  Grant,  S.  V.  235. 

Andrews,  Abraham,  ii,  24,  241. 

Andrews,  E.  A.,  Memoir, 

Andrews,  I.  W.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  19. 

Andrews,  Lorin,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  19. 

Andrews,  S.  J.,  Jesuits  and  their  Schools,  xvii,  19. 

Andrews,  St.,  University,  xxiv,  803. 

Angia,  Abbey,  xxiv.  835*. 

Anglican  Church,  xviii.  616. 

Anger,  xvii,  27;  xxiii,  961. 

Anglo-Saxon  Language,  xvii,  27. 

Study  in  Am.  Schoools  and  Colleges,  xvi,  599. 

Angelico,  Fra,  xxiv,  390. 

Anhalt,  xviii,  561. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31,  32;  xxii,  744. 
City  Schools,  xix.  587. 

Ann  Arbor,  Union  Schoolhouse,  xxiv,  689. 
Michigan  State  University,  xiii,  643;  I.  S. 

Annaburg,  Orphan  Home,  xii,  731. 

Annals  of  Education  1830-39,  v,  857. 

Annapolis,  Naval  Academy,  xxiii,  961. 

Anselm.  at  Bee,  xxiv,  835. 

Anscharius  of  New  Corny,  xx,  732;  xxiv,  346. 

Anthon,  Charles,  Memoir,  xv,  829;  I.  S. 

Anthony,  Henry,  Competitive  Examination,  xxiii, 

Anthropology,  xvii.  27.  [809. 

Antioch.  Ancient,  xxiv,  468,  835. 

Antioch  College,  xvii,  33. 

Antoninus.  Aurelius.  and  Pius,  v,  858. 

Endowment  of  School  of  Athens,  xxiv,  476. 

Antwerp.  School  of  Commerce,  xxi,  623,  801. 

Apathy,  Public,  xiv.  817;  xv,  829. 
Methods  of  Breaking  up,  i,  708. 

Aphorisms  on  Education,  xvii.  18;  Education  De 
fined.  18;  State  and  Education,  18:  Man— His 
Dignity  and  Destiny,  18;  Essence  of  a  Good, 
18;  Parents  and  Teachers.  18;  Physical,  35; 
Intellectual,  2M;  Religious  and  Moral,  34 ;  Dis 
cipline,  27;  Female  Ed.,  35;  Example,  18. 

Aphorisms— Contents  and  Index  to  Vol.  I.  8. 

Apothecaries,  Studies  for,  Pharmacy,  S.  V.  668. 

Apparatus  and  Appliances.  School,  v,  858;  xi,  613; 

x,  763:  xviCS8:  xxi,  801. 
c. .liege,  about  1800.  xxiv,  885. 

Appetites,  Control  of,  xvi,  53. 

Appleton,  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  33. 

Appleton,  Wrs.,  Lawrence  University,  I.  S. 

Apportionment  of  School  Money,  Principle,  xiv, 

Apprentice  Schools,  xxi,  801.  [370. 

Apprenticing  to  Trades,  iii,  816;  v,  858. 

Appropriations,  xvii,  31;  xviii,  247;  xxiv,  249. 

Apthonius,  xi,  73. 
|  Aquarium  in  Berlin,  xix,  599 ;  xxi.  981. 

Arabia,  xviii,  593. 

Arabic  Culture,  xxiv.  3»'»1.  777.  I.  S. 

Arabic  School-  and  Teaching  in  Spain,  I.  S. 

Arhitiirienten  Examen.  xxiii.  ',".'7.  [I.  S. 

Archbishop,  Kiirht  of  Visitation  over  Universities. 

Archdeacon,  at  the  Universities,  xxii.  285,  287. 

Archery,  in  Physical  Culture  and  Sport,  xvi,  495. 
!  Architectural  Game,  xi,  28. 

Architecture.  School-  of.  xxi,  801. 

Architecture,  School,  v,  858 ;  xvii,  36 ;  xxiv,  546,815. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


51 


Barnard's  Revised  Treatise— Contents,  I.  S. 
Area  and  Population  of  States,  v,  858:  xviii,  805. 
Arey,  Oliver,  xvii,  38. 
Arezzo,  University,  xxiii,  303. 
Argentine  Republic,  xviii,  525. 

School  Labors  of  Sarmiento,  xvi,  593. 
Argovia,  School  System,  xx,  33;  xxiii,  (538,  961. 
Argyroptilus,  Pioneer  Teacher  of  Greek,  v,  68. 
Arithmetic,  Methods,  v,  85S  ;  viii,  681 ;  x,  763-  xvii, 

27;  xix,  890;  xxiii,  861;  xxiv,  835. 
Arithmeticon,  x,  525;  xvi,  791. 
Aristippus,  Future  Utilities  of  Knowledge,  xi,  576. 
Aristotle,  Educational  Views,  v,  681 ;  x,  763;  xiii, 
865 ;  xvii,  19;  xxiii,  961 ;  xxiv,  835.         [835. 

University  Study,  vi,  317;  xiv,  179,  816;  xxiv, 

Antagonism  of  Bacon's  Philosophy,  xiv,  180. 
Arizona,  xviii,  484. 
Arkansas,  xviii,  64,  281,  S.  V.1  546. 

School  System,  xvii,  31 :  xxiv,  228. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  110 ;  xxiv,  714. 

Colleges,  S.  V.  546. 

Colored  and  Freedmen,  xix,  890. 
Armenian  Church,  xviii,  615;  Schools,  xx,  10. 
Armsmear,  Memorial  of  Samuel  Colt,  I.  S. 
Armstrong,  S.  C.,  xix.  377. 
Army  Schools,  xxiii,  961. 
Arnaca,  a  School  Medicine,  xiii,  865. 
Arnauld.  and  the  Port-Royalist,  I.  S. 
Arndt,  Germany,  viii,  349. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  Schools  of  Prussia,  xix,  625. 

Progress  of  Education  in  France,  xi,  281. 

System  of  Holland,  xvii,  31. 
Arnold,  Thomas,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  iv,  545. 

Rugby  School,  xvii,  19. 

Arnold's  Collection  of  Birds  and  Insects,  xvii,  86. 
Art,  Academies,  xxi,  801. 
Art,  Defined,  xxi,  678. 

Ancient,  x,  267;  863. 

As  a  School  Study,  xvii,  27. 

And  Science,  viii,  681 ;  xvii.  27;  xxi,  679. 

And  Labor,  xx,  801 ;  xxi,  678. 
Art,  in  Education— Dwight,  v,  858. 
Arts,  Central  School,  Paris,  v,  858;  xxi,  463. 

Schools  of,  v,  858;  xxi,  801. 

Arts,  in  University  Organizations,  xxii,  295,  xvii, 
33 ;  Artistue,  xxii,  903 ;  Degrees  in,  xxiv,  496 ; 
xxii,  284 ;  Faculty,  xxiv,  509,  788. 
Arts,  Faculty  in  oldest  University,  vi,  21. 

Lectures  in  1380,  vi,  54. 
Articulation,  xii,  421  ;  xiv,  353. 
Articulation  for  Deaf-mutes,  Bell,  S.  V.  496. 

Clarke  Asylum  at  Northampton,  S.  V. 
Artillery,  Schools  of,  xii,  731;  xxiii,  961. 
Artisan,  defined,  xxii,  95. 
Ascham,  Roger,  The  Schoolmaster,  xi,  613;  xvii,  19. 

Toxophilus,  iii,  40. 
Ashburton-Prize  Scheme,  xvii,  19. 
Ashland,  Kentucky  College  of  Agricult're,  S.V.,  291. 
Asia,  xviii,  592. 

Assistant  Teachers,  v,  858 ;  xix,  425. 
Associate  in  Arts,  Degree  of  A.  A.,  Oxford,  I.  S. 
Asssociation  of  Ideas,  v,  858 ;  xxiii.  443. 
Association  of  Teachers,  Earliest,  iv,  839 ;  xv,  819. 

New  York  City,  1811,  xv,  491. 

Boston  and  vicinity,  xv,  526. 

Philadelphia,  1812,  xv,  584. 
Associations,  Educational,  xvii,  35 ;  National,  35  ; 

State,  36 ;  County,  36 :  City,  36. 
Associations  for  Educational  Ends,  xvii,  35 ;  xv,  821. 

Historical  Development  to  1864,  xv,  819. 
Associations  for  Religious  Purposes,  xxiv,  377. 

Religious  Orders  in  the  Catholic  Church,  I.  S. 
Associations,  State  Teachers,  xvii,  36.  [588. 

Astor,  J.  J.,  and  Astor  Library,  v,  859;  S.  V.  509, 

Rescue  House  at  Walldorf,  xi,  252. 
Astor,  W.  B.,  Astor  Library,  I.  S. 
Astrology,  v,  859;  vii,  723.  [xxiv,  &35. 

Astronomy,  xviii,  9;  xxi,  801 ;  xxii,  903;  xxiii,  861 ; 

Dignity  of,  as  a  Study,  xvii,  33. 
Asylums,  Educational,  I.  8.  [697. 

Atheism,  Charged  on  Public  Schools,  xiv,  644,  693, 


i  Athenaeum,  v,  859 ;  viii,  587 ;  xiv,  817 ;  xiv,  817. 

Meaning  and  Application,  v,  859. 
I  Athenian  and  Spartan  Training,  v  859. 
Athens,  Ancient  School  and   University,  ix,  23: 
xxiv,  23.  31,  835. 

Endowments  by  Marcus  Aurelius,  xxiv,  476: 
Athletic  Sports,  xxii,  475;  xxiii,  961 ;  xvii,  35. 
Atkinson,  W.  P.,  Educational  Views. 
Atmosphere  of  School-rooms,  v,  43,  859 ;  xxiii,  659. 
Attendance,  School,  v,  856 ;  xiv,  817 ;  xv,  293,  829 ; 
xvii,  27. 

Regulations,  xix,  890 ;  xx,  381 ;  xxii,  903. 
Attention,  Power  and  Culture,  ii,  139 ;  v,  859 :  x, 

121 ;  xxiii,  %1 . 

Attic  Oratory  and  Philosophy,  xxiv,  461. 
Attica,  as  the  Seat  of  a  University,  xxiv,  21. 
Audition,  Power  .of,  I.  S.  540. 
Augsburg,  Polytechnic  School,  xxi,  117. 

Early  Christian  School,  xxiv,  835. 
Augusta,  Georgia,  xix,  77 :  Maine,  77. 
Augustinian  Canons  at  Oxford,  13th  Century,  I.  S. 

Doing  Austins — Disputations,  &c.,  I.  S. 
Augustus,  Services  to  Education,  xxiv,  836. 
Augustine,  and  his  Rule,  xxiii,  861 ;  xxiv,  836. 
Aurelian,  Endowment  of  Schools,  xxiv,  836. 
Australasia,  xviii,  602. 
Austin,  Sarah,  Education,  v,  859. 
Austria,  xvii,  31,  32;  xviii,  540:  xxiii,  903. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  30,  31,  33,  129. 

Gymnasiums,  xvii,  128,  185. 

Real  Schools,  xvii,  160. 

Universities,  v,  859  ;  xx,  749,  767. 

Technical  Schools,  xxi,  801. 

Polytechnic  Schools,  xxi,  46. 

Military  and  Naval,  xxiii,  305,  333. 

Apprentice  Schools,  xxi,  39. 
Authority  in  Parent  and  Teacher,  xi,  477, 125 ;  xii, 

95 ;  xxiii,  28. 

Autobiographies— School  Life,  xvii,  18;  I.  S. 
Aventinus,  Memoir  and  Grammar,  xi,  102. 
Avery,  Charles,  Benefactions,  xix,  380. 
Avery  College,  for  blacks,  xix,  381. 
Averrhoes,  xxiv,  777. 

Awe,  and  Reverence,  xi,  478 ;  xii,  478 ;  xxiii,  10. 
Aylmer,  v,  859. 
Aydelott,  B.  B.,  xiv,  742,  817. 
Ayliffe,  J.,  Oxford  Act,  or  Commencement,  1714, 1.S. 

Babbage,  C.,  v,  859. 

Bacchants,  in  15th  Century,  v,  359. 

Bach,  S.,  Method  in  Teaching,  x,  633. 

Bache,  A.  D.,  Education  in  Europe,  v,  859 :  xvii,  19. 

Bachelor  Degree,  ix,  65  ;  xii,  731 ;  xxiv.  836. 

Examination  for,  I.  S. 
Backus,  F.  F.,  v,  859. 
Bacon  Academy,  Colchester,  I.  S. 
Bacon,  Asa,  Gift  to  Yale  College,  x,  694. 
Bacon,  Thomas,  Teaching  Slaves  in  1749,  xix,  363. 
Bacon,  L.,  Memoir  of  Hillhouse,  xvii,  19. 
Bacon,  Lord,  v,  859 ;  xvii,  19 ;  on  Studies,  Discourse, 
Riches,  Travel,  xxiii,  962. 

Realistic  Instruction,  xix,  629 ;  xxii,  25. 

Defects  of  Universities,  1605,  xxii,  25. 
Bacon,  Roger,  Opus  Magnus,  xxiv,  336 ;  I.  S. 
Baden,  xviii,  807;    Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31; 

Technical  Schools,  xxi,  801. 

Secondary  Schools,  xix,  712. 

University,  vi,  751 ;  xxi,  82. 
Bagdad,  Schools  of,  xxiv,  836. 
Bahrdt  with  the  Iron  Forehead— Kotzebue,  vii,  186. 
Bail,  L.,  on  Drawing,  xix,  780. 
Bailey,  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii.  19. 

Boston  High  School  for  Girls,  xiii,  243. 
Baldwin,  R.  S.,  Connecticut  Reserve,  vi,  420. 
Baltimore.  Public  Schools,  xix,  98,  403. 

Peabody  Institute,  xvii,  35;  S.  V.8 

Johns  Hopkins  University,  I.  S. 
Baker,  W.  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiv,  817. 
Baker,  T.  B.  L.,  xvii,  19. 
Baldwin,  Theron,  xvii,  38. 
Ballot,  Written,  in  American  System,  xix,  839. 


52 


<, i:\KUAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SEKI!> 


Bangor,  Public  Schools,  xix,  79. 
Bancroft,  G.,  Naval  School,  xxiii,  897. 
Bank*,  N.,  ix,  637. 
Banneker,  xix.  195.  300. 
Baptist,  Regular,  and  S.  V..  599. 

Education  Society  ami  Institutions,  60S. 

Sunday  Schools,  602. 
Barbarians,  Incursions,  xxiv,  836. 
Barbauld,  Mrs.  Lai-tit ia  Aiken.  I.  S. 
Barcelona,  Universitv.  xxiv,  790. 
Bard,  S.,  Schools  in  Florida,  v.  859. 
Barlow,  Joel,  National  Universitv,  I.  S. 
Barnard,  C.  F.,  Educational  Work,  I.  S. 
Barnard,  D.I)..  Taxation  for  Schools,  xvii,  19. 

Memoir  of  Van  Rensselaer,  vi,  233. 
Baniard,  F.  A.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  19. 

Optional  Studies,  xxiii.  436. 

American  Colleges,  v,  859. 
Barnard,  John,  School  Days  in  1689,  xvii,  19. 
Barnard,  J.  G.,  Gyroscope,  xvii,  19.  [19,  38.  1 

Barnard,  Henry.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  859;  xvii, 

National  Education  in  Europe  1854,  i,  745. 

Schools  of  Connecticut,  i,  669,  754.  761 ;  iv,  657. 

Schools  of  Rhode  Island,  i,  I'M,  755. 

Employment  of  Children  to  Labor,  i,  753. 

School  Architecture,  i,  754. 

Normal  Schools,  i,  753. 

Connecticut  School  Journal,  i,  754. 

Rhode  Island  School  Journal,  i,  755. 

Hints  and  Manual  for  Teachers,  i,  766,  770. 

Tribute  to  Gallaudct,  i,  759. 

Free  Schools  of  New  England,  i,  760. 

National  Military  Schools,  xiv.  103;  xxiii,  949. 

Teachers'  Institutes,  xv,  387;  xvii,  30,  829. 

Papers  for  the  Teacher,  xvii,  755. 

College  Organization  and  Studies,  xvii,  756 

Iteporte  as  Commissioner  of  Educat'n,  xxi,  893. 
Annual— 1867-8,  with  Circulars,  S.  V.1 
Special— District  of  Columbia — Contents,  9. 
Special,  Technical  Schools— Conts.,  xix,  785. 
Special,  National  Education — Conts..  xix, 85. 
Correspondence,  Education,  S.  V.  87. 

Journal  and  Library  of  Education,  xvii,  9,  12. 

List  of  Publications,  xxiv,  8-15,  S.  V.  I.  Com. 
Barnes,  D.  II.,  Memoir  by  Yerplanck,  xvii,  38. 
Barney,  H.  H.,  Schools  of  Ohio,  ii,  531 ;  vi,  533. 
Barol.'Marquise  de.  The  Refuge  at  Turin,  xvii,  38. 
Barring  out,  Longstreet,  xvii,  23,  316;  xxii,  473. 
Bart  ram,  John,  Botany  and  Botanic  Garden,  I.  S.    I 

William,  American  Ornithology— 
Basedow.  and  Philanthropinum.  v,  860;  xvii,  20. 
Basil  at  Athens,  xxiv,  836. 
Basilica,  University  of  Constant ine,  xxiv,  836. 
Basle,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  769. 
Basle,  University  and  Schools,  xx.  41. 
Batavian  Republic,  Law  of,  xiv,  693. 
Bates,  Joshua.  Memoir,  xvii,  38. 
Bates,  S.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20. 
Bates,  W.  G.,  Normal  Schools,  xvii,  20. 
Bateman,  N.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
Battells,  Book  of,  English  University,  I.  S. 
Battersea  Training  School,  ix,  170. 
Bavaria,  v,  860 ;  xviii,  564,  806. 

Public  Schools,  xvii,  31,  32. 

Technical,  xxi,  101. 

Military  Schools,  xxiii,  318. 

Universities,  i.  626 ;  xxi,  98. 

Kumlbrd's  Labors,  I.  S. 
Beadles,  Universitv,  Police,  I.  S. 
Beatus  Rheanus,  tfild,  v,  66. 
Beauty  in  Art  defined,  xxi.  229. 
Beauty,  Sense  of,  x,  763;  xiii,  513. 

Behek  Collet"*.  XX,  11. 

Bebel,  II.,  at  Tubingen,  iy,  744. 

Bee,  Monastic  School,  xxiv,  367. 

Beck,  T.  Romeyn,  xvii,  38. 

Becker,  K.  L.,  Study  of  German  Grammar,  xii.  li'.n. 

Becker,  Lydia  E..  Study  of  Science  by  Women.  I   s. 

Becraft,  Maria,  Colored  Teacher  in  1820,  xix,  205. 

Bee  Culture,  xxi,  562. 


Beccher.C.  E.,v,860;  xvii,  20;  Autobiography,  I.  S. 
Beecher,  H.  W.,  xvii,  20. 
Beers.  S.  P.,  v,  128;  vi,  62-3:  xiii,  732. 
HcL^'iiiLT  School-hoys  in  Luther's  Time,  xxiv,  836. 
Belgium,  xviii,  544',  806;  Public  Schools,  xx,  445; 
Technical  Schools,  xxi.  609. 

Early  Christian  Schools,  xx,  447. 
Bell,  Ringing  of,  xix,  528. 
Bell,  Amire\\ .  Memoir  and  System,  xvii,  20. 
Bell.  A.  M..  System  of  Articulation.  S.  V.  I.,  496. 
Bell,  A.  Graham.  School  of  Vocal  Culture,  I.  S. 
Bell  and  Lancaster  Controversy,  x.  476. 
Bell,  in  School  Discipline,  viii*  6,  7. 
Benefactors  of  Education,  xvii,  37.  xxiv,  836. 
Benedict  and  the  Benedictines,  xxiv,  525,  836. 

Rule  of  Monastic  Life,  xxiv,  328. 

Benedictine  College  at  Oxford.  I.  S. 
Beneke,  Memoir  and  Pedagogy,  xii,  731 ;  xxiv,  50; 
Benezet,  A.,  xix,  374.  [I.  S. 

Bennon,  of  Misnia.  xxiv,  352. 
Bent,  Natural,  xxiii.  962.  [I.  S. 

Bentley,  Richard,  Mastership  of  Trinity  Colic-'-. 
Berkley.  Bishop,  x,  763,  I.  S. 

Berkley,  Sir  William,  Free  schools  in  Va..  .xii.  :>:n. 
Berlin,' Schools,  xix.  593,  891;  xx,  769;  xxi,  802; 

Polytechnic,  v.  860:  xxi,  802.  [590. 

Normal,  xix,  593,  594. 

Primary,  xiv.  232. 

Reform  Schools,  xxii,  90(5. 

Academies  and  Museums,  xix,  599. 

Military,  xix,  597. 

Charitable,  xix,  598. 

Supplementary,  xix,  599. 

University,  xix.  5%.  664. 
Programme  of  Lectures  in  1825— Dwight,  I.  S. 
Courses  for  1865-6— Arnold.  I.  S. 
Pedagogic  Seminary,  xix,  593,  649. 
Income  and  Expenditure,  xix.  608,  698. 
University  Life  by  a  French  Student,  I.  S. 
Scientific  Side  of  Instruction,  1.  S. 
Berne,  Cantonal  School  System,  xx,  769. 

University,  xx,  65. 
Bernhardt,  xvii,  20. 
Berytus.  School  of  Law,  xxii,  277. 
Beaaarion.  of  Trebizond,  v,  440. 
Beii^cn  Reform  School,  iii,  383:  xx,  596. 
Bethlehem,  Moravian  Seminary  for  Girls,  S.V.  487. 
Bewick.  Thomas,  Autobiography,  I.  S. 
Bible  in  Schools,  v,  860;  xvii,  27  :  xxiii,  962. 

Potter's  Treatise— Contents,  I.  S. 
Bible  in  Schools— National  Experience,  I.  S.  3. 

Holland,  xiv.  696 ;  Prussia,  xxii,  791. 

New  England  States,  v,  860. 

Bible,  The  People's  School  Book,  xii, 974 ;  xxiii,  274. 
Bible  Clerk,  xvi,  518. 

Bibliography  of  Education,  vii,  49,  513:  xvii,  36. 
Bicknell.  T.  W.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiv,  818, 1.  S. 
Bifurcation,  in  French  System,  xvii,  27. 
Biirelow,  J..  Science  in  Education. 
Bin-ham,  Caleb,  Memoir,  xvii,  20.  (vii,  301. 

Binney.  Amos,  Wesleyan   Seminary,   Wiloraham, 
Binney,  Horace,  ix,  17:  xv,  236. 

Girard  College  Case,  Christian  Charity,  I.  S. 
Biography  of  Education.  List,  xvii,  38.  I.  S. 
Biographical  Method  in  History,  xvii,  27. 
Biolo-ry,  xvii,  27. 
Bipartite  Organization,  xvii,  27. 
Birklieck.  Schools,  x,  763.  [I.  S.  831. 

Birch  and  Rod  in  Literature,  v,  860;  xvii,  27,  313; 
Bishop.  N..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20,  40;  1.8. 

Educational  Work,  v,  mi. 
Blackie.  S.  (,..  Cretinism,  ii,  738. 
Blacks.  Schools  for,  xix,  303. 
Blackboard,  xvii.  -J7.  i-.»:;.  :.:.s :  I.  S.  505,  509. 

Direction-  for  Black-wall,  ix.  563.  i  J| 

Black-law  of  Conn.,  xix.  330. 
P-hir.  J.,  William  and  Mary  College,  xxiv.  152. 
Blewett.  B.  T..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38. 
Blind,  Schools  for,  xvii.  34. 

Summary  of  Condition,  S.  V.  I.,  497. 
Blockman,  Pestalozzi  at  Neuhof,  xvii,  20. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


53 


Boards  of  Education,  xix,  419. 

Historical  Development,  I.  S. 
Boarding-round.  Practice  in  poor  districts,  v,  861 ; 

xx,  (307;  xxii,  821. 
Boarding  School,  System  in  France,  xxii,  586. 

England,  xvi,  519. 

Russia,  xx,  492. 
Boating,  Students,  I.  S. 
Boccaccio,  xvii,  SO. 
Bodleian  Library,  I.  S. 
Bodleigh,  Sir  Thomas,  xxiii,  71. 
Bodiker,  T.,  German  Language,  xi,  436. 
Bohemia,  xvii,  131,  158;  xxi,  802. 
Bolivia,  xviii,  807. 

Bologna,  University,  Savigny,  xxii,  275. 
Bolingbroke,  xvii,  20. 

Bonet,  J.  P.,  Articulation  of  Deaf  Mutes,  1620, 
Bonghi,  Public  Schools  in  Italy,  xx,  147. 
Boniface.  St.,  xvii,  624;  xxiv,  525. 
Bonn,  University,  v,  861 ;  xx,  606. 

Agricultural  School,  xxi,  207. 

Pedagogic  Seminary,  xix,  649. 
Bonnal,  Pestalozzi's  School,  vii,  651. 
Bonner,  School  at  Rotherham  in  1630,  xvii,  320. 
Book  Agents,  xix,  429. 

Book-keeping,  xiv,  339 ;  xix,  429  :  xxi,  623 ;  xxii,  694. 
Book-learning,  v,  861 ;  xvii,  27. 
Books  for  Pupils,  Supply  of,  xix,  42. 
Books  and  Libraries,  xvii,  27;  xxiii,  962. 
Books  on  Education,  Schools  and  Methods,  i,  769. 
Boppo,  xxiv,  348. 
Borgi,  J.,  Orphan  School,  xvii,  20. 
Borough-road  Schools,  xvii,  27,  31. 
Booth,  J.,  Examination,  v.  861. 
Borromeo,  San  Carlos,  ii,  723 ;  v.  861 ;  I.  S. 
Boston  Public  Schools,  v,  861 ;  xvii,  32 ;  xix,  469, 470. 

Historical,  x,  716  ;  xii,  537 ;  I.  S. 

Primary  Schools,  xix,  470. 

Latin  School,  xii,  734;  xiii,  745;  xix,  487. 

English  High  School,  xix,  484. 

University,  I.  S. 

AtheiUEiun,  v,  859;  S.  V.  587. 

Public  Library,  vii,  723 ;  S.  V.  587. 

Girls'  High  School,  xiii,  243 ;  xix,  482;  xxiv,  197. 

Institute  of  Technology,  xix,  487 ;  S.  V.  237. 

Central  Art  School,  I.  S. 

Lowell  Lectures,  viii,  681. 

Music  and  Drawing  in  Public  Schools,  I.  S. 

Historical  Societies,  I.  S. 

Educational  Benefactions,  xvii,  37. 

Teachers1  Association  1812,  xv,  829. 

School  Architecture,  xvii,  37 ;  xxiv,  545. 
Botany,  viii,  681;  xvii,  27;  xxiii,  962. 

Study  for  Girls,  x,  640. 
Botanic  Gardens,  Earliest,  v,  590,  861. 
Botta.  V.,  xvii,  20. 
Boucher,  J.,  xix,  392. 
Bo  wen.  P.,  xvii,  20. 

Bowditch,  N.,  American  Science,  v,  861;  vii,  363. 
Bowdoin  College,  v.  861 ;  xviii,  198 ;  S.  V.  550. 
Bowman,  John  B.,  Kentucky  University,  S.  V.,  291. 
Boy  Tutor,  at  Winchester,  xvi,  227. 
Boyle,  R.,  vii,  228;  I.  S. 
Braidwood.  J.,  iii,  348;  ix,  343. 
Braille,  L.,  'Writing  Board  for  the  Blind,  S.  V.,  499. 
Brainerd,  J.,  Memoir,  Schools  as  they  were,  xvi,  331. 
Brazenose,  Brazinium,  or  Brasinhuse  College,  I.  S. 
Brazil,  xviii,  807.  [I.  S. 

System  and  Institutions  of  Public  Instruction, 
Breal,  M.,  Pupils  Preparation  by  Himself,  I.  S.  544. 
Breck.  S.,  Normal  Schools,  xix,  727. 
Breckenridee.  R.  J.,  Schools  in  Kentucky,  v,  861. 
Breda,  Military  Academy,  xiv,  242. 
Bremen,  xviii,  807;  xix,  592. 
Breslati,  University,  v,  861 ;  xx,  748. 

Pedagogic  Seminary,  xvii.  480. 

Student  Life— Raumer,  vii,  723. 
Brest,  Naval  School,  xii,  263. 
Bridgeman,  Laura,  Memoir,  xvii,  38;  I.  S. 
Bridges,  School  for  Engineers,  xxi,  731. 
Bridgewater  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  30,  689. 


Brimmer,  M.,  vii,  723. 

Brinsley,  John,  xxiv,  186. 

Bristed,  C.  A.,  English  University  Life, 

British  America,  xviii,  807. 

British  and  Foreign  School  Society,  x,  763. 

British  Isles,  and  Christian  Church,  xxiv,  42. 

Museum,  xxii,  42. 

Museum  of  Practical  Geology,  vi,  239. 

Art  and  Portrait  Gallery,  xxi'i,  906. 

Scientific  Institutions,  xxii,  71. 

Science  and  Arts  Association,  xxii,  33. 
Brockett,  L.  P.,  xvii,  20. 
Bromberg,  xx,  391,  397. 

Bromfield,  J.,  xvii,  38.  [xvii,  39. 

Brooks,  Charles,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20; 

Labors  in  behalf  of  Normal  Schools,  i,  861 ;  l.S. 
Brooks,  Edward,  Memoir  and  portrait, 
Brooks,  K.,  Memoir  of  Wavland,  xvii,  20. 
Brooklyn,  xix,  82,  403,  20. 
Brothers,  Teaching  Orders,  v,  861 ;  xxiv,  742. 
Bro\vnson,  A.  O.,  Education  defined,  xiii,  12. 
Brown,  John  Carter,  Memoir,  I.  S. 
Brown,  Nicholas,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38. 
Brown  University,  v,  861 ;  S.  V.  [I.  S. 

Brown,  William,  Library  and  Museum,  Liverpool, 
Brownell,  T.  C.,  Trinity  College,  I.  S. 
Brougham,  Henry,  xvii.  20;  xxiii,  161. 
Bruhl,  Normal  School,  xiv,  207 ;  xix,  207. 
Brunswick,  xviii,  807;  Public  Schools,  xvi,  31; 

xix,  592,  703;  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  137. 
Brussels,  Art  Institutions,  xxi,  609. 

University,  xxi.  608.  [x,  332. 

Buchanan,  J.,  First  English  Infant  School  Teacher, 
Buckham,  M.  II.,  xvii,  20. 

Buckingham,  J.  T..  Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  38. 
Budaeus,  French  Scholarship, 
Budget,  xx,  771. 

Buffalo,  Public  Schools,  xix,  892.  [135. 

Bugenhagen,  Church  and  School  Organizer,  xxiv, 
Building,  Schools  for,  xxi,  802. 
Buildings  for  Educational  Purposes,  xvii,  36  ;  xxii, 

401 ;  xxiii,  969;  xxiv,  445;  S.  V.  525. 
Bulaeus,  (Boulay,)  C.  E.,  University  of  Paris,  ix,  56. 
Bulkley,  J.  W.,  xvii,  20,  38. 
Bulkley,  L.,  Bequest  to  New  London,  v,  861. 
Bullock,  Gov.,  xvii,  671. 
Bunce,  J.  M.,  xiv,  818;  xxii,  356. 
Buenos  Ayres,  Sarmiento's  Labors,  xvi,  597. 
Busch,  H.,  v,  862. 

Burchett,  R.,  Instruction  in  Drawing,  xxii,  57. 
Bureau  of  Education,  S.  V.  I. 
Burgdorf,  iv,  839  ;  xx,  68.  [696. 

Burgh  Schools,  Scotland,  xix,  718;  xxii,  453;  xxiii, 
Burgess,  G.,  Religion  in  Common  Schools,  xvii,  20. 
Burgher  Schools,  viii,  681;  xvii,  31,  621 ;  xix,  892; 

xx,  769;  xxi,  802;  xx,  469;  xxii,  906. 

Higher  Burgher,  viii,  457 ;  xii,  521 ;  xix,  627. 
Burke,  Edmund,  xvii,  20. 
'  Burleigh,  Advice,  xxiii,  74. 
Burlington,  University  of  Vermont,  v,  862. 
Burmah,  xviii,  807. 

Burns,  Robert,  Advice  to  a  Friend,  xxiii,  96. 
!  Burrowes,  T.  II.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20. 

Normal  Schools  in  Pennsylvania,  xvii,  30. 
Bursae,  vii,  160 :  xx,  753. 
Bursaries,  xix,  720;  Scotch,  xxii.  498. 

Condition  of  Award,  xxii,  499. 
Burschenschaft,  Constitution,  vii,  723. 

Landsmanshaften,  vii,  161. 
Burton.  Warren,  ii,  333 ;  xvii,  38. 
i  Burtt,  A.,  xv,  829. 
Bushncll,  H.,  xvii.  20;  xxiii,  387. 

Memoir  and  Educational  Work,  I.  S. 
Business,  Education  for,  xx,  314. 

General,  v,  311 ;  ix,  125. 

Special  Colleges,  S.  V. 
Buss,  J.,  and  Pestalozzi,  xvii,  20,  38. 
Bussey,  B.,  ix,  637;  S.  V.  234. 
Butler,  Caleb,  xvii,  54. 
Butler,  Cyrus,  v,  862. 
Butler,  J.  D.,  Addresses,  ii,  242;  xiv,  387. 


54 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Byfleld,  Emerson's  School,  x,  652. 

Byron.  Lady.  Reformatory  Schools,  xvii,  20. 

Byron,  Lord,  xxiii,  443. 

Cabinet*  of  Natural  History,  xvii,  82»;  I.  S. 

Caccia  College,  v,  862. 

Ciesar.  Privileges  to  Teachers,  xxiv,  469. 

Civsarea,  School  of,  xxiv,  836. 

Cadet  Defined,  xiii.  49. 

Cadet  Corps,  in  Prussia,  xii,  310. 

Cadets,  xii,  731 :  xviii,  807;  xxiii.  962. 

Cadv,  L.  F..  Classical  Instruction,  xvii,  20. 

Cagliari,  University,  xx,  185. 

('al:i-an/,io,  J.,  Pious  Schools,  xx,  20(5. 

Calculus,  DiflVrential.  xii,  91 ;  xxi,  802. 

Cakierwood,  II..  Teaching— its  Ends  and  Mean?, 

Caldwell,  Charles,  xvii,  20.  [I.  S.  497. 

Caldwell.  J.,  xvi.  360;  xxiv,  303. 

Calendar.  Ecclesiastical,  I.  S. 

French  of  1793,  xxii,  653. 
Calhoun,  John  C.,  Letter  on  Studies,  I.  S. 
Calhoun,  W.  B..  Memorial,  xvii.  20. 
California,  xviii.  807:  xvii,  31,  119. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  119. 

Common  School,  v.  862. 

State  Teachers  Association,  xxiv,  836. 

Revised  School  Law,  xvi.  f,:;:5. 

Colleges  and  University,  xviii,  1%;  S.  V.  546. 

Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts  College.  S.  V. 
Calisthenics,  xvii,  27.  I.  S.  [134. 

Calkins,  N.  A.,  Memoir,  I.  S. 

Object  Teaching,  xvii,  20. 

Callenberg.  Normal  School  for  Females,  xx,  556. 
Camarino.  University,  xx,  185. 
Cambridge  University  and  Colleges,  xxiv,  406. 

Mathematical  Tripos  and  other  Examinations, 

Organization,  Studies,  and  Resources,  I.  S. 

Student  Life— Bristed  and  Everett. 
Cambridge.  Hopkins  Benefaction,  v,  862. 

Harvard  College,  and  Schools,  xvii.  33. 

Public  Hiirli  School.  Everett,  vii,  360. 
Camden,  Greek  Grammar,  xvii.  291. 
Camp.  David.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38. 
Campe,  at  Dessau,  v,  506,  517:  I.  S. 
Canada,  Dominion,  xviii,  807;  xvii,  31. 
Canada,  Upper.  Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31. 
Canada,  Lower,  Educational  Institutions,  xvii,  31. 
Canon  Law,  xxiv,  836. 
Canons,  Regular,  xxiv,  744. 
Canterbury.  School  for  Colored  Girls,  xix,  328. 
Capping  and  Capping  Book.  xvii.  290,  303. 
Care  of  School  Premises,  xix,  432. 
Carlsruhe,  Polytechnic  School,  xxi,  83. 

English  Report  on  Scientific  Character,  I.  S. 
Carnot,  Competition  Principle,  xxiii,  792. 
Cartesian  Philosophy,  I.  S. 
Carving  and  Painting,  I.  S.  406. 
Carlvle,  T.,  xvii,  20. 

University  Address,  xxiii,  962. 
Carpenter,  Marv,  xvii.  20. 
Carpenter,  W.  B.,  xxi,  139. 

Carter,  James  G.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20. 
Casauban,  I.,  Memoir,  I.  S. 
Cassiodorus,  xxiv,  521. 
Catechetical  Method,  ix,  3(57 ;  xvii,  20. 
Catechism-day,  xiii,  138. 
Catechism  of  Methods,  xvii,  27. 
Catechism  in  Schools,  xvii,  238:  xx.770:  xxii,  906. 
Cathedral  Schools,  xx,  770;  xxiv,  44,  4%. 
Catholic  Church,  Schools  in  U.  S.,  ii,  435;  xx,  770. 
Catholic  Church.  Promoter  of  Learning,  I.  S. 

Religious  Orders,  xxiv,  527. 

Teachin<r  Orders,  xxiv,  742;  I.  S. 

Early  Christian  Schools,  xxiv,  836. 

Decrees  of  Councils,  viii,  348. 

Popes,  Active  in  Education,  xxiv,  831. 

Claims  in  respect  to  Public  Funds,  xiv.  715.818, 
Catholepistemiad— Woodward,  I.  S.  [8 

Cato.  Sentences— Hoole,  xvii.  249.  270. 
Cattell,  W.  C..  and  Lafayette  College.  I.  S. 
Cavalry,  Schools  of,  xii," 309 ;  xxiii,  632. 


Cecil,  Sir  William,  xvii,  20.  38. 
Cemeteries  and  Rural  Improvements,  S.  V. 
Census,  National,  xvii.  31 ;  xix,  801. 

Census  of  1850,  vi.  567. 

Census  of  1860,  S.  V.  121. 

Census  of  1870,  xxiv,  249. 

Census  of  1840,  xxiv,  836. 

Illiteracy,  disclosed,  xix,  801. 

Central  America,  xviii,  807.  19. 

Central  Agency  for  U.  S.,  Educational,  v,  862 ;  xvii, 
Central  School-  in  French  System,  xx,  770. 
Central  Society  of  Education,  x,  333. 
Centralization  of  Public  Instruction,  xxii,  579. 
Ceylon,  xviii,  807. 
Chadwick.  Edwin.  Memoir,  I.  S. 

Sanitarv  Movement  and  Kd..  xv,  55;  xxiii,  962. 
Chalk  and  tablet,  xvii.  193. 
Chalmers.  Thomas,  The  Parochial  School,  ix,  222. 

Religious  Element,  ix,  228. 
Chalons,  School  of  Art,  xxi,  802. 
Chambers,  W.  R.,  Infant  Education,  i,  772. 

Schools  of  Holland,  xiv.  694. 
Champaux,  William,  xxiv,  371. 
Chancellor.  University,  xxii,  906. 
Chandler,  A.,  Benefaction  to  Dartmouth,  S.  V.  278. 
Chandler  School  of  Science.  S.  V.  278. 
Channing.  W.  E..  xvii.  20;  I.  S. 

Charles  I,  and  Fine  Art  in  England,  xxii,  41. 
Chant,  Roman.  School  of,  xxiv,  836. 
chapel  Attendance  in  Universities,  I.  S. 
Chapone,  Mrs.,  Citations. 

Chaptal  College  of  Commerce,  xxi,  802.  [514. 

Character.  Formation  of,  vii,  353;  x.  763;  I.  S.  492, 
Charitable  Uses,  Law  of— Girard  Case,  I.  S. 
Chanty  and  Selfishness,  ix.  606. 
Charity,  Sisters  of,  Mrs.  Jameson,  v,  862 ;  I.  S. 
Charity  Schools,  of  Christian  Knowledge  Society, 
Charitable  Institutions,  xix,  807  ;  xviii,  807.    [I.  S. 
Charlemagne.  Schools  of.  xxiv,  836. 
Charleston,  S.  C..  Public  Schools,  xix,  84. 

College  of  1794,  S.  V.  467. 
Charlestown,  Mass.  Early  Free  School,  xii,  535. 
Chatham,  Earl  of.  Letters,  xxiii,  125. 
Chatham.  School  of  Militarv  Engineers,  xxiii,  596. 
Chauncey,  C..  Second  President  of  Harvard,  ix.  135. 
Chauncey  Hall  School,  xiii.  851. 
Chauvau.  P.  J.  O..  xvii.  20. 
Cheeflhahtera  Muck.  Miran  Graduate,  ix,  136. 
Cheever.  Ezekiel,  xvii,  20. 

Early  Free  Schools  of  New  England,  xii,  533. 
Cheke,  Sir  John,  xvii,  20. 
Cheltenham  College,  xv.  102. 
Cheinnit/.  Industrial  School,  iv,  252. 
chemistry,  xvii.  27;  xxi,  802. 

In  American  Colleges,  I.  S. 
Cherokee  Indians,  Schools,  v,  862. 
Chester  Diocesan  Normal  School,  x,  661. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  Letters,  xxiii,  123. 
Chess.  Game — Franklin,  I.  S. 
Chicago,  xvii,  36:  xix,  893.  xxiv,  577. 

Educational  Benefactions.  I.  S. 

Manual  of  Methods,  xix,  551. 
('hidings,  xiii,  559. 
Child.  Christian  Doctrine  respecting,  I.  S. 

Relations  to  Nature.  Society.  God,  xiv,  818. 

Pagan  and  Jewish  Views,  I.  S. 
Childhood,  xvii,  27;  xxiv,  836. 
Chili,  xviii.  807;  xvi,  596. 
Chilson's  Furnace,  xvii,  792. 
China,  xviii.  808. 

Educational  Views — Examinations,  xii,  732. 

New  Views.  European,  I.  S. 
Choate.  Rufus,  xvii,  20. 
Chori-ters.  iv.  344. 

Christ,  The.  Silent  POW.T  of.  xxiii.  962. 
Christ  and  Sot  rate--  Rousseau,  v,  4H4. 
Christ's  Ho-pital.  viii,  270. 
Christian  Brothers,  xvii.  20;  xxiv,  836. 
Christian,  but  not  Protestant  or  Catholic,  xiv,  714. 
Christian  Charity.  Distinctive,  v,  862:  I.  S. 

Binney,  in  Gfirard  Will  Case,  I.  S. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


55 


Christian  Schools,  Early,  yiii,  349 ;  xxiv,  826. 

Christian  Knowledge  Society,  I.  8. 

Chris tofl'el,  R.,  Pestalozzi's  Life  and  Views,  vii,  575. 

Chrysoloras,  E.,  Greek  Literature,  xvii,  38. 

Church,  Bingham  Library,  v,  343. 

Church  Education  Society,  xxiv,  836. 

Cicero,  xvii,  20;  xxiii,  9G2;  xxiv,  836. 

Training  as  an  Orator,  xxiii,  166. 
Cimon  at  Athens,  xxiv,  23. 
Cincinnati,  xix,  893;  xxiv,  593. 

See  Hughes,  Woodward,  McMynn  Charities. 
Cisio,  Janus,  School  Calendar  of  Luther,  xxiv,  102. 
Cistercians,  or  Bernardines,  xxiv,  743,  836. 
Cities,  American,  Population,  v,  863  ;  S.  V. 

Cost  for  Teachers,  Superintendents,  xix,  403. 
Citizenship,  Education  for,  I.  S.  489. 
City  Life,  xiii,  323;  xxiv.  21. 
City  Systems,  xiv,  255 ;  xix,  77,  403,  419,  493. 

Plan,  xv,  309. 

Courses  of  Studies,  xix,  465. 

Rules  and  Regulations,  xix,  421. 

European  Systems,  xix,  587. 

Teachers  Associations,  xiv,  818. 
Civilization,  xxiv,  835. 

Ancient,  xxiv,  536. 

Christian,  xxiv,  836. 

Grecian,  xxiv,  836. 

Modern,  xxiii,  962. 

Roman,  xxiv,  836. 

American,  vii,  360. 

Civil  Engineering,  Schools  in,  xxi,  802. 
Civil  Law,  Faculty,  vii.  26;  Modern,  xxiv,  797. 
Civil  Wars,  Influence  on  Schools,  vii,  367. 
Clajus',  and  the  German  Language,  xvii,  20. 
Clark,  H.  G.,  Ventilation,  xvii,  20. 
Clarke,  Hyde,  Education  in  Turkey,  xx,  1. 
Clarke,  J.  F.,  Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
Clarke,  John,  and  Clarke  Institut'n,  Northampton, 
Clarke,  Sheldon,  Yale  College,  x,  693. 
Clap,  President  of  Yale,  v,  559. 
Class,  Pupils  to  a,  xxiii,  503. 
Class  System,  v,  863;  xix,  893. 
Classical,  Origin  of  term,  xxiii,  200. 
Classical  Culture  in  French  Sec.  Schools,  xxii,  581. 
Classical  Learning,  Progressive,  Developm't,  v,  863. 

Italy,  vii,  413,  435. 

Dante,  Boccaccio,  Petrarch,  vii,  418,  438. 

Advent  of  Greek  Scholars,  vii,  436. 

Eminent  Italian  Teachers,  vii,  441. 

English  Scholars— George  Linacer,  I.  S. 

German  Scholars,  Agricola,  &c.,  iv,  717. 

French  Scholars,  do.,  I.  S. 

English  Teachers  in  American  Schools. 
Classical  Studies  and  Instruc.,  xvii,  27 ;  xxiii,  963. 
Classification  for  Instruction,  xxiii,  963. 
Classification,  Mental  Habit,  ii,  &31  ;  xi,  614. 
Claxton,  T.,  School  Apparatus,  xvii,  20. 
Clay,  Henry,  Public  Lands  to  Education,  I.  S. 
Clay,  Rev.  J.,  Juvenile  Criminals,  v,  863. 
Cleanliness,  Provisions  for,  v,  863 ;  xix,  434. 
Cleanthes  in  Athens,  xxiv,  25. 
Clerc,  Laurent,  xvii,  20. 
Clergy  and  Schools,  iv,  840. 

New  England  Schools,  xvii,  219,  644. 
Cleveland,  Dummer  Academy,  xvi,  403. 
Cleveland.  Public  Schools,  xix,  893. 
Clinton,  DeWitt,  xvii.  20. 
Clinton,  Morgan  School,  I.  S. 
Clocks  in  School-room,  xix,  893. 
Cloister  Schools,  xxii,  712;  xxiv,  837. 
Cobb,  Lyman,  Corporal  Punishments,  i,  771. 
Coburn,  C.  R.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38. 
Cochin,  Infant  Asylums,  xx,  262. 
Codes,  School,  xx'ii,  906,  S.  V.3 
Co-education  of  Sexes,  xvii,  385. 
Coggeshall,  W.  T.,  Schools  of  Ohio,  v.  863. 
Cogswell,  Alice,  and  Deaf  Mute  Instruction,  v,  863. 
Coimbra  University,  xx,  528. 
Cokesbury  College' in  Maryland,  xxiv,  151. 
Col  burn,  Dana  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20,  38. 
Colburn,  Warren,  xvii,  20,  38. 


Cole,  David,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  20. 

Cole,  Henry,  Science  and  Art  Dept.,  xxii,  49. 

Coleman,  Henry,  xvii,  20.  [x,  532. 

Coleridge,  Derwent,  St.  Mark's  Training  College, 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  xvii,  20. 

Colet,  Dean,  and  St.  Paul's  School,  xvi,  657. 

Collective  Teaching,  xvii,  27. 

College,  American,  v,  863;  xvii,  33;  xxiv,  837. 

How  far  Copied  from  Eug.,  xiv,  367 ;  S.  V.  345. 

Resemblance  to  German  Gymnasium,  v,  359. 

Compared  with  Eng.  and  Ger.  Higher  Ed.,  ix, 

Objections  Considered,  vii,  361 ;  xi,  229.    [119. 

Cost  to  Students,  xi,  230. 
College  in  English  System,  i,  261 ;  xxiv,  406. 
College  in  French  System,  ix,  383. 
Colleges  in  University,  xxiv,  837. 
Collegium  Carolinian  at  Brunswick,  xxi,  136. 
Collegium  Illustre  of  Duke  Christopher,  ix,  79. 

Institution  of  the  Christian  Man,  xvi,  671. 
Collingwood,  Admiral,  xxiii,  963. 
Collinson,  Peter,  and  John  Bartram,  I.  S. 
Collis,  J.  D.,  Endowed  Grammar  Schools,  xvii,  20. 
Cologne,  Gymnasium,  xix,  592. 
Colonial  Legislation  respecting  Schools,  S.V.  1. 426. 
Color,  Lessons  in,  ix,  398 ;  xii,  614 ;  xiv,  98 ;  xix,  893. 
Colorado,  xviii,  808. 
Colored  Children  and  Schools,  xix,  197,  301. 

Legal  Status  in  each  State,  xix,  303. 
Colt,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Jarvis,  Annsmear. 
Colt,  Samuel,  Aid  to  Technical  Education. 
Columbanus  and  Luxueil,  xxiv,  737. 
Columbia,  and  lona,  xxiv,  404. 
Columbia  College,  xxiv,  149,  161;  S.  V.  552. 
Columbia,  District,  xix,  5. 
Comenius,  Amos,  Memoir,  v,  86:  xvii,  20. 

Educational  Views,  v,  863. 
Comfort,  and  Comfortable  Homes,  Ed.  for,  I.  S. 
Commencement,  or  Encaenia,  at  Oxford,  ii,  234; 

Commencing  Master  of  Arts,  xxiii,  154.    [I.  S. 

Yale  in  1814,  xxiv,  169.  [802. 

Commerce,  and  Commercial  Schools,  xx,  780 ;  xxi, 
Committee  of  Privy  Council  on  Ed.,  x,  339,  707. 
Commissioner  of  Ed.,  xvii,  64;  xix,  893;  S.  V.  7. 
Common  Place  Book,  xiii,  112. 
Common  School,  Defined,  xii,  470;  xxiv,  225,  290. 
Common  Schools,  xvii,  31,  379;  xxiv,  837. 
Common  Sense,  v,  476 ;  xvii.  27. 
Common  Things,  Instruction  in,  x,  93;  xvii,  27. 
Commoners  at  Oxford,  I.  S. 
Commons,  or  Common  Table,  xxiv,  837. 
Communication,  Power  of,  iii,  325. 
Comparison,  Discipline  of,  ii,  329.  [802. 

Competitive  Examination,  xvii,  27;  xx,  973;  xxiii, 

German  Criticism,  xxii,  578. 

French  Practice,  xiv,  818. 

English  Strictures— Seeley,  Todhunter,  I.  S. 
Composition,  xvii,  27;  xxiii,  963;  xxiv,  837. 
Compulsory    School    Attendance,   xvii,  27 ;    xix, 

893 ;  xx,  770 ;  xxiv,  837. 

Computum,  in  Early  Christian  Schools,  xxiv,  516. 
Comstock,  Adam,  New  York  System,  S.  V.  I.  426. 
Conception,  Faculty  of,  iv,  204. 
Conception,  Mental,  v,  863. 
Concert  Recitations,  xvii,  415. 
Concordat  with  Rome,  xxiii,  642.  [ix,  392. 

Concour,  or  Public  Competition  for  Appointments, 

German  Criticism,  xxii,  578. 
Conduct  and  Studies,  xvii,  27 ;  xxiii,  963. 
Condorcet,  and  Daunou,  xx,  259;  xxii,  I.  S. 
Conferences  of  Teachers,  xvii,  553 ;  xix,  653 ;  xx, 

770 ;  xxii,  836. 

Confessions  of  a  Schoolmaster — Alcott,  i,  771. 
Conflict  of  Studies— Old  and  New— I.  S. 
Confucius,  xvii.  20  ;  I.  S. 

Congregation  and  Convocation  in  Oxford.  I.  S. 
Congress  of  U.  S.,  xviii,  808-  xix,  893. 
Connecticut  Common  School  Journal,  v,  864. 

General  Index  to  Volume  I — IV,  I.  S. 
Connecticut,  Statistics,  v,  852;  xviii,  294.  808. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xi,  615  ;  xvii,  88. 

Common  School  System,  xvii,  31 ;  xxiv,  857. 


56 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


School  Fund— History,  v,  126,  189,  141 ;  vi.  367. 
Influence  Questioned,  v.  125,  13x,  852. 
Graminnr  Schools,  xvii.  32;  xxii,  337,  309. 
Colleges,  xvii,  38.  37  ;  xxiv,  844. 
ShethVld  Scientific  School,  S.  V.  140. 
School-houses,  xvii,  36:  xxii,  401. 
Colored  Children  and  Schools,  xix,  328. 
Teachers'  Associations,  xvii,  35. 
Institutes,  xv,  387. 
Normal  School,  x,  15;  xvii.  30. 
Libraries,  S.  V. 

Connecticut  Reserve  in  Ohio— History,  vi,  373,  419. 
Discussion  in  Legislature  of  Conn.,  vi,  384. 
Virginia-policy  Contrasted,  vi,  419. 
Conover,  A.  M.,  xxii,  38. 
Conscience,  Moral  Element,  fx,  36. 
Conscience  Clause,  in  English  System,  xxiv,  661. 
Conservatory  of  Arts,  Paris,  ix,  406 ;  xxi.  439. 
Consistorinm.  xix.  894. 
Constitutional  Provisions  respecting  Education, 

Each  State,  xvii.  81 :  xxiv,  837. 
Constructive  Method,  xvii,  27. 
Consulate  in  France,  xxii,  770. 
Contagious  Diseases,  xix,  436. 
Convent  Schools,  viii,  682;  xx,  770. 
Conversation,  xvii.  27:  xxiii,  963. 
Conversational  Method,  xvii,  27:  xx,  906. 
Conventores,  at  Tubingen,  ix,  65. 
Convitti,  xx,  770. 

Cooper,  Peter,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  S. 
Cooper  Union,  iv,  526;  xix,  779. 
Cooper,  W.  M.,  History  of  the  Rod,  I.  S. 
Coote.  E.,  English  Schoolmaster,  xvii,  21. 
Copeland,  P.,  First  Free  School  in  Va.,  xii.529,  533; 
Copenhagen.  Special  Schools,  xxi,  701.      [S.V.  345. 
Coraui,  R.,  Plan  for  Free  Schools  in  1791,  S.  V.  385. 
Corby.  Old  and  New,  xxiv.  837. 
Corcoran,  W.  W.,  Gallery  of  Art,  xix,  748. 

Benefactions  to  Education,  I.  S. 
Cordova— Arabic  Schools  and  Teaching,  I.  S. 
Cornell,  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xxiv,  447:  I.  S. 

University,  xxiv,  837.  [xxiii,  963. 

Corporal  Punishment  xvii.  27:  xix,  894;  xx.  770; 
Corston,  W.,  New  Industry  and  Schools,  x,  363. 
Costa  Rica,  xviii,  809.  [112. 

Cotta,  Madame  Conrad.  Influence  on  Luther,  xxiv, 
Council  of  Military  Education.  England,  xxiii.  !n;:j. 
Country  Training,  xvii,  27;  xxiii,  963:  S.  V.  1380. 
Wherein  inferior  to  City,  ii,  538;  Hi,  323. 
Superior  to  City,  xii,  420. 
County  Supervision,  ii,  525,  755;  xv,  221. 
Courses  of  Study,  iv,  840 ;  v,  852 ;  xvii,  828 ;  xix,  198; 

xxiii,  906. 

Elementary,  xvii,  31. 
Graded  Schools,  xix,  465.  819. 
Gymnasia,  xix,  669;  xxii,  776. 
Normal  Schools,  xvii,  32. 
University,  I.  S. 
Courteilles,  \  icount,  xvii.  21. 
Courtsey— Benevolence  in  Trifles,  xiii,  852;  I.  S. 
Cousin  V.,  xvii,  21 ;  xx,  237. 

Normal  Schools,  xx.  237.  [774 ;  xiv.  819. 

Public  Instruction  in  Holland  and  Prussia,  i, 
Coutts,  Burdett,  Prize  Scheme,  xvii.  21. 
Cowdery,  M.  F.,  Memoir,  xvii,  21. 

Moral  Character,  Object  of  School,  xvi,  323. 
Cowley,  A.,  Philosophical  College,  xxii,  209. 
Cowper.  W..  Tirocinium,  xvii,  21. 

School  Reminiscences,  I.  S. 
Crabbe,  George,  Schools  of  the  Village,  xvii,  21. 
Craig,  A.  J.,  Memoir,  xvii,  38. 
Cramming,  v,  861;  xxiii,  963;  I.  8. 
Crandall,  Prudence,  xix,  328. 
Creasey,  Eminent  Etonians,  xv,  123. 
Creu/ot,  Industry  and  Science,  xxi,  438,  494. 
Crevier,  University  of  Paris,  ix,  06. 
Crime,  Cause  and  Prevention,  vii.  79. 
Criminal.  Young,  v,  861;  xx.  77;  xx.  908. 
Crocus  (Croke),  Richard,  xx,  534:  I.  S. 

Inaugural  as  Greek  Reader,  1519.  I.  S. 
Cromwell,  Oliver— College  at  Durham,  I.  S. 


Cross,  M.  K.,  Memoir,  xvi,  749. 

<  'ru--ley,  John,  Lessons  of  his  Life, 
Crozet,  Claude,  xxiii.  963. 

Cruikshank,  J.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38. 

Cuba,  xviii,  537.  809. 

Cumberland  University,  iv,  765. 

Cumulative  Vote  in  English  School  Law,  xxiv,  666. 

Curators,  in  Russian  System,  xx,  467. 

Curiosity,  v,  864;  xvii,'27;  xxiii,  963;  I.  S.  505. 

Curric,  James.  Methyls,  xvii,  21. 

Curriculum  Vitae.  xvii.  478;  I.  S. 

Cui>ores.  or  Biblical  Students,  vi,  25. 

Curtin,  A.  G.,  Schools  of  Penn.,  ii,  541. 

Curtis,  Joseph,  v.  864. 

<  'urtis,  T.  W.  T.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii.  38. 
Cutting,  A.  C.,  First  Latin  Teacher  in  N.Y.,  S.V.  355 
dishing,  C.,  xiii,  723. 

Custom  and  Education— Bacon,  v,  852;  xi,  615. 
Custos,  or  Sacristan,  xxii,  861.  '.•«;:; 

Cutler.  Manassah,  Ordinance  of  1787, 1.  S. 
Cuvier,  Schools  of  Holland,  viii,  682 ;  xiv,  684;  xxiii, 

French  Schools,  xx,  770. 
Cyrus  and  Cyropedia,  Greek  View,  xxiii,  19,  26;  I.  S. 

Dacier,  Madame,  x,  617.  [906 ;  xxiv,  837. 

Daily  Routine,  xiii,  865  ;  xvii,  278,  301,  319;  xxiii, 

Dakota,  xviii,  809. 

Dame  Schools,  xiii,  866 :  xvii,  828 ;  xix,  469 ;  I.  S. 

Dana,  J.  D.,  v,  864;  xvii,  21. 

Dancing,  vi,  317;  xvi,  792. 

Daunou.  Report,  xxii,  770. 

Dane,  Nathan.  Memoir,  xvi,  416. 

Academy  Policy,  xvii,  574. 
Dante,  Revival  of  Learning,  xvii,  21. 
Dantzic,  Trade  School,  xxi,  187. 
Darmstadt,  Models  for  Drawing,  xxiii,  704. 

Trade,  and  Higher  Trade  School,  xiv.  427. 
Darlington,  W.,  Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  21. 
Dartmouth  College,  xxiv,  139  ;  Charter,  I.  S. 

Chandler  School  of  Science,  S.  V.  278:  571. 

Thayer  School  of  Architecture,  S.  V.  278;  571. 
Daughters  of  the  Cross,  Teaching  « »nler,  I.  S. 
Davt-nport,  John,  v,  864;  xvii,  216;  I.  S. 
Davidson,  E.  A..  Drawing,  xxiii,  963. 
Davies,  C.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38.        [I.  S. 
Davies,  Emily,  University  Education  for  Women, 
Davis,  J.,  Experience  as  Teacher  in  Virginia,  xiii, 
Davis,  W.  V.,  Memoir,  xv.  829.  [866. 

Davis,  Emerson,  Teacher  Taught,  I,  770. 
Dawes,  II    x,  764. 

Dawson,  J.  W.,  Natural  Science,  xvii,  21. 
Day,  Jeremiah,  x,  764;  xvii,  21. 
Day,  H.  N.,  Composition,  xvii,  21. 
Day-Scholars,  out  of  School,  xvi,  792. 
Day,  The  Wise  Ordering  of  a,  xxiii,  81. 
Deaconesses,  xvii,  21 ;  xx,  206. 
Deadly  Weapons  in  School,  xix,  436. 
Deaf  Mutes,  v,  864;  xvii,  34;  S.  V.  584. 

Articulation,  S.  V. 
Dean,  of  the  Faculty,  vii,  20. 
Debating,  xvii,  27;  xxiv,  837. 
Debts,  xxiii.  963;  xviii.  809. 

Decker,  Sir  Nathan,  Design  and  Drawing,  xxii.  29. 
Declamation  and  Disputation  at  Wittemberg,  vi,  24. 
Declaration  of  American  Independence,  I.  S. 
Dccuria,  in  Organization,  v,  865;  xx,  541. 
Defiant  Pupils",  I.  S.  519. 
1).  -I..,..  Memoir  and  Rules  of  Conduct,  417,  429. 

Essay  on  Projects,  I.  S.  419. 

Academy  of  Music,  422. 

University  for  London,  421. 

Academy  "for  Women,  429. 

Military  School  and  Studies.  428. 
Degerando,  Monitorial  Method,  xvii.  21. 
De  la  Beche.  Sir  Henry.  Practical  (Jeology,  vi,  239. 
De  la  Sail.-.  Christian  'Brothers,  xvii,  21.  [491. 

De  TEpee,  French  School  of  Deaf-mute  Ins.,  S.V. 
Degrees.  Academical.  Origin,  xvii.  33. 

Savigny  on,  xxii,  906;  xxiii,  963;  xxiv.  88T. 
Degrees;  Ceremony  of  Taking  at  Cambridge,  I.  S. 

Mode  at  Gottingen— Hunt,  I.  S. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


57 


Degrees,  Cost  of,  xxii,  287;  I.  S. 
Degrees,  Candidates  for,  xxii,  285.  [xiv,  178. 

D'Ewes,  Sir  Simonds,  Studies  at  Cambridge,  1618, 
De  Laveleye,  Emile,  Dutch  Schools,  xiv,  715. 
Delaware,  xviii,  809. 

Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  187. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvi,  94. 

Common  Schools,  v,  865;  xvii,  32. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  865 ;  xxiv,  837. 

Status  and  Schools  ot'Freedmen,  xix,  894. 

Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts,  S.  V.  570. 
Delft,  Polytechnic  School,  xxi,  697. 
Delille,  J.,  Village  Schoolmaster,  xvi,  21. 
Demerit  Marks,  xxiii,  933. 

DeMetz,  Reform  Schools,  xvii,  21,  34;  xxiv,  837. 
Democratic  Influence  of  Science,  xvii,  33 ;  xxiii,963. 
Democritus,  x,  764 ;  xi,  615. 
Democracy  and  Schools,  Swiss,  xxiii,  396. 
DeMorgan.  xxiii,  446. 
Demosthenes,  xi,  104 ;  xxiii,  963. 
Denman,  and  Teachers'  Institutes,  xv,  830. 
Denmark,  xviii,  809;  xxi,  803;  xxiii,  963. 
Denominational  Schools,  xxiv,  963;  I.  S. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  xviii,  198. 

Theological  Seminaries,  xviii,  204 ;  S.  V.  558. 

Historical  Development  in  United  States,  I.  S. 
Denominations,  Religious  in  United  States,  S.V.  I. 
Denzel,  xvii,  38.  [S.  V. 

Department  of  Education,  xviii,  160;  xvii,  63,  109  ; 
Department  of  Science  and  Art,  England,  xxii,  49, 
Departments  at  Washington,  xviii,  809.  [690. 

Department,  or  School,  in  English  Law,  xxiv,  659. 
Deposition  and  Penalism,  vi,  37 ;  vii,  59. 
DeQuincey,  xxiv,  963. 

Reminiscences  of  School  Life,  I.  S. 
Descartes,  Method,  xi,  615 ;  xxiii,  469. 
Desks  and  Seats,  Adaptation,  xi,  615  ;  xiii,  656. 
Design,  Schools  of,  xvii,  33 ;  xxiii,  906. 

Women's,  xix,  777,  779  ;  xxi,  807. 
Determinations  and  Disputations,  xxiv,  837. 
De  Tocqueville,  xvi,  792. 
Detroit,  Public  Schools,  xix,  894. 
Deventer,  School,  v,  865.  [837. 

Devotional  Exercises,  xvii,  34, 309 ;  xxiii,  963 ;  xxiv, 
Dewey,  Chester,  Memoir,  xv,  830.  [1820,  v,  17. 

Dewit,  G.  A.,  High  School  for  Girls,  Providence, 
Derry,  N.  H.,  Adams  Female  Academy,  1824,  x,  656. 
Dialectics,  xxiv,  837. 
Dialogic  Method,  vii,  724. 
Diary,  School,  xx,  770. 
Dick,  Bequest,  xvii,  21. 

Dickins,  Pictures  of  Schools  and  Teachers,  I.  S. 
Dickinson,  Philosophy  of  Teaching,  xvii,  381. 
Dickinson  College,  xxiv,  150 ;  S.  V.  554. 
Dictionaries,  xvi,  36 ;  xxiii,  963. 
Didactics,  xvii,  30. 

Diet,  v,  865;  viii,  682;  xi,  615,  656;  xxiii,  964. 
Diesterweg,  A.,  xvii,  21 ;  xx,  770.  [xi,  28. 

Differences,   Resemblances,  Relations  of  Things, 
Digest  of  Rules  for  City  Schools,  xix,  417. 
Dijon,  School  of  Art,  xxi,  504.  [S.  V.  3. 

Dilworth's  Spelling  Book  and  Arithmetic,  xvii,  219 ; 
Dinter,  xvii,  21. 
Diocesan  Schools  in  Ireland,  xv,  830 ;  xxiv,  678. 

Training,  in  England,  x,  764. 

Diogenes  Laertius,  xxiv,  837".  [xx,  770. 

Diploma,  Attendance  and  Proficiency,  xix,  894; 
Director,  School,  xix,  651.  [295. 

Disputation  in  University  Instruction,  vi,  24;  xxii, 
Discipline,  School,  xvii,  27 ;  xxii,  906. 

Richards,  Manual,  x,  507. 
Discipline,  Mental,  xix,  894. 
Discipline,  Military,  xxiii,  964 ;  xvii,  734. 
Dismission,  xix,  437. 
Disraeli,  xvii,  21 ;  xxiii,  963. 
Dissenters,  Admission  to  Universities,  I.  S. 
District  of  Columbia,  xviii,  80!) ;  xix,  145. 

Special  Report,  Barnard,  xix,  5. 

Plan  of  School  Organization,  xix,  137. 

Art,  Galleries,  &c.,  xix,  725. 

Colleges— Columbian— Georgetown,  69,  897, 


Colored  Pop.,  Schools  and  Education,  xix,  893. 

District,  or  Rural  Schools,  xx,  770 ;  [31,  831. 

District  Schools  as  they  were,  v,  865  ;  xiii,  866 ;  xvii, 

Disturbance  of  a  School,  a  legal  oft'ence,  xix,  438. 

Divinity,  Professorships  in  Am.  Colleges,  S.V.  478. 

Dix,  John  A.,  Educational  Views,  xiii,  343. 

Dix,  Miss  D.  L.,  x,  608. 

Dixon,  W.  H.,  Swiss  Schools,  xxiii,  664. 

Doane,  G.  W.,  State  and  Education,  xvii,  21. 

Docendo  Discimus.  x,  623 ;  xvii,  408. 

Doctor,  Degree,  xxii,  907;  xxiv,  837. 

Doing  and  Telling,  ix,  421. 

Dole,  I.,  English  Dictionary,  xvii,  21. 

Dollar  Institution,  Scotland,  xxii,  490. 

Dol linger,  Universities,  Past  and  Present,  xx,  770. 

Domestic  Economy,  ix,  240 ;  xx,  770. 
Consequences  of  Neglected,  I.  S. 
Beecher's  Text  Book,  I.  S. 
Mount  Holyoke  Seminary,  x,  771. 
Military  Orphan  Schools,  xii,  339. 

Domestic  Life  and  Education,  xxiv,  837. 

Dominic,  and  Dominicans,  xxiv,  837. 

Dominus,  in  University  Parlance,  xxii,  308. 

Dons,  University  term,  I.  S. 

Donaldson,  James,  Educational  Views,  I.  S.  481. 
Science  of  Education,  481. 
Public  Primary  School,  488. 
Revised  Code,  496. 

Donaldson,  J.  W.,  xvii,  21  ;  xxiii,  964. 

Donaldson's  Hospital,  Edinburgh,  I.  S. 

Donatus,  v,  865;  xi,  615;  xxiv,  103. 
German  Interlinear,  xi,  161. 

Dorpat,  University,  xx,  770. 

Dorchester,  Early  Grammar  School,  xvi,  792. 

Dort,  Synod,  Christian  Education,  v,  77. 

Doty,  D.,  xix,  895. 

Doubs,  School  of  Watch-making,  xxi,  430. 

Douai,  A.,  German  Schools,  in  U.  S.,  xix,  895. 

Dowse,  Thomas,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  38. 

Draper,  Lyman  C.,  Memoir,  and  Portrait,  I.  S. 
|  Dramatic  Performances,  v,  865 ;  xvii,  828. 
I  Drawing,  Kinds  and  Methods,  xvi,  27,  828;  xix, 

895;  xx,  770;  xxi,  803;  xxiii,  964. 
!  Drawing,  for  Girls,  x,  637. 
!  Drawing-out  Process,  v,  865 ;  ix,  615. 
'  Dresden,  School  System,  xix.  895. 

Military  and  Special  Schools,  xxi,  803. 

Dress,  xi,  615  ;  xxiii,  964. 

Dringenberg,  xvii,  38.  [523. 

Drunkenness,  to  be  .guarded  against,  xi,  615;  I.  S. 

Druids,  Schools  of,  xx,  770. 

I  Dublin,  Schools  and  Museums,  xxii,  907 ;  xxiii, 
625 ;  xxiv,  827. 

Dublin  University,  and  Trinity  College,  I.  S. 

Dubuque,  Public  Schools,  xix,  895. 

Dubuis,  System  of  Drawing,  xxi,  515. 
|  Du  Bartas,  xxiii,  964. 
!  Ducpetieux,  Reform  Schools,  xvii,  21. 
!  Dudley,  Mrs.,  Obsevatory,  xvii,  21,  38. 

Duelling,  in  German  Universities,  vi,  57;  vii,  724. 

Duff,  Grant,  xvii,  595 ;  I.  S. 

Duffield,  D.  B.,  State  and  Education,  xvii,  21. 

Dula,  School  Reform  in  Lucerne,  xx,  9J. 

Dumb  Philosopher,  Defoe's,  I.  S.  430. 

Dumfries,  Burgh  School,  xix,  716. 

Dummer,  Academy,  and  Master  Moody,  xvi,  410. 

Dummer,  William,"  Benefaction  to  Byfield,  S.V.  352, 

Dumont,  P.  Normal  Schools,  iii,  396. 

Dunbar,  Burgh  School,  xix,  895. 

Dundee,  Burgh  School,  xix,  895. 

Dunn,  Henry,  Manual  of  Methods,  i,  771 :  xvii,  21. 
American  Edition— Gallaudet,  i,  428,  771. 

Dunnell,  M.  H.,  xvii,  21. 

Dungal,  xxiv,  360. 

Duns  Scotus,  Memoir  and  Influence,  I.  S. 

Dunster,  Henry,  First  President  of  Harvard,  ix,  130. 

Dupanloup,  Studious  Women,  xvii,  623. 

Durham,  University,  I.  S. 

Duruy,  Secondary  Special  Schools,  xx,  770;  xxiii, 
48,  xxiv ;  837. 

Dutch  W.  I.  Company,  Ed.  Po,licy,  S.  V.  348. 


58 


(.KNKKAI.    IXDKX   TO   XATK»XAL   SERIES. 


Duty,  viii,  28 ;  xxiii,  964. 

Duet  and  Ashes,  Benefaction,  I.  S. 

Dus&eldorf,  xxii,  859.  [xxii,  5%. 

Dusseltbal  Abbev,  and  Count  von  der  Recke,  ii,  231 ; 

Dwelle,  Early  Maker  of  School  Apparatus,  x,  764. 

Dwelling  House  for  Teacher,  xx,  770. 

Dwight,  Edmund,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  21. 

I>\vight.  Francis,  xvii,  21. 

DwiL-ht.  Henry  E.,  xvii,  641. 

Dwight,  Mary,  xvii,  21. 

Study  of  Art.  ii,  256;  Drawing,  v,  806. 
Dwight  School,  Plans,  v,  865. 
1)\\  ii:ht.  Theodore,  Schoolmaster's  Friend,  i,  791. 
Dwight,  Timothy,  xvii,  21,  828. 
Dyce,  W.,  Schools  of  Design,  xxii,  43. 

Art  and  Fashion  in  Design,  44. 

Ear,  How  Trained,  v,  865. 

Early  Christian  Schools,  xxiv,  337. 

Early  School  Books,  xxiv,  19. 

Earlv  Rising,  xxiii,  904;  xvii,  689. 

Early  Training,  xvii,  18;  xxiii,  964. 

Earnestness,  xxiii,  964. 

Easton,  Lafayette  College,  Pardee  Hall,  I.  S. 

Eating,  xxiii,  964. 

Eaton,  Amos,  vi,  317;  S.  V.  253. 

Eaton,  Horace,  xvii,  21. 

Eaton,  John,  Commissioner  of  Education,  S.V.  546. 

Statistical  Tables  for  1873,  548. 
Eaton,  Nathaniel,  ix,  130. 

Eaton,  Theophilus,  xvii,  38,  216.  [xx,  770. 

Ecclesiastical  School,  Authorities,  v,  863 ;  xvii,  627 ; 
Ecclesiastics  as  Teachers,  xvii,  84,  95,  219,  644. 
Economical  Science,  Lessons  in,  x,  105. 
Economics  and  Finance,  Faculty,  ix,  105 ;  xxii,  847. 
Ecuador,  xviii,  810. 
Edgeworth,  Maria,  xvii,  21. 
Edinburgh,  v,  865. 

University,  xvii,  33;  xxiv,  819. 

Grammar  Schools,  xix,  716  ;  xxii,  907. 

Normal  Schools,  x,  583,  764. 

Sessional  School,  ix,  219. 

High  School,  ix,  221 ;  xxii,  907. 

Endowments  for  Education,  I.  S. 
Education,  v,  866. 

Defined,  xvii,  18;  xxiii,  964. 

Aphorisms  and  Suggestions,  xvii,  18. 

Biography,  xvii,  38. 

Benefactors,  xvii,  37. 

Individual  Views,  xvii,  19. 

Methods,  xvii,  27. 

Systems,  xvii,  31,  32,  xxi,  770. 

Physical,  xvii,  35. 

Moral,  xvii,  34. 

Reformatory,  xvii,  34. 

Technical,  xxi,  801. 

Military,  xxiii,  949. 

Superior,  xxiv,  9. 

Liberal,  I.  S.  457. 

Universal,  i,  735. 

Education  and  the  State,  v,  885;  xvii,  18;  xv,  830. 
Edson,  H.  R.,  Memoir,  xvi,  750. 
Edson,  T.,  Memoir  of  Colburn,  xvii,  21. 
Edward  VI,  Educational  Endowments,  viii,  270. 
Edwards,  B.  B.,  xvii,  21. 
Edwards,  Jonathan,  Rules  of  Conduct,  I.  S. 
Edwards,  N.  W.,  xvii,  21.  [39. 

Edwards,  R.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  21 ;  xvii, 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  21. 
Eggleston,  N.  H.,  Villages  and  Village  Life,  I.  S. 
E-.vpt.  xviii,  806. 

Etchberg,  Musical  Studies,  xxi,  124. 
Eichorn,  Ministry  of  Pub.  Ins.,  xx,  414;  xxiii,  444. 
Kinsidlen,  xxiv,  838. 
Ei-.-!i:ich,  xix,  706. 
Ki-let.eii,  Normal  Seminary,  xiv,  218. 
Elberfeld,  xxii,  859. 

Eldena.  xxi,  216.  [I.  S. 

Eldon,  Lord  Chancellor,  School  and  Colle- 
Elementary  Schools,  xvii,  31;  xix,  401 ;  xxi.  77u; 

City  Organizations,  xix,  77, 417, 519.  [xxii,  388. 


Elgin,  Lord,  American  Schools-stems,  xvii,  21. 
Elgin  Latin  School,  xix,  16;  xxii,  459,  479. 

Music,  or  Sang  School,  15JM,  xxii,  479. 
Eliot,  John,  v,  123 ;  xii,  549. 
Eliot,  Samuel,  xvii,  21. 
Kliot.  s.  A.,  xvii.  21;  xxiv,  888. 
Eliot.  C.  W.,  The  New  Education,  I.  S. 
Elizabeth,  Oueen,  v,  866. 
Ellipses,  and  Ellintii-al  Method,  ix,  638. 
Kills.  William,  x,  764;  xxii,  178. 
Elocution,  iii,  332;  v.  866; 
Eloquence.  Training  for,  vii.  203;  xxiv,  888. 
Klyot,  Sir  Thomas,  Governor,  xvii,  483. 
Emerson,  G.  B..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Education*]  Views,  xvii,  21 ;  xix,  484, 1.  S. 
Emerson,  Joseph,  Female  Education,  x,  652. 
Emerson,  R.  W.,  Studies  and  Conduct,  I.  S. 
Emerson,  F.,  Ventilation,  ix,  638. 
Emile  Rousseau's  System  of  Education,  v,  882. 
Emilie,  Daughter  of  Basedow,  v,  491. 
Emotion,  iii,  49. 

Emulation,  v,  866 ;  xiii,  867:  xiv,  819;  xxiii,  1)64. 
Encouragements,  xvii,  29;  xviii,  964;  xxiii,  964. 
Encyclopedia  of  Education,  v,  856:  I.  S.  49. 
Endowments,  Educational,  v,  866;  xxiii,  430,  528. 

Dangers,  and  Objections,  xxii,  503. 

English,  xvii.  31. 

American,  xvii.  31 ;  xxiv,  838. 

Irish,  xv,  830;  xvii,  41. 

Scotch,  xxii,  465,  488,  496. 
EnirineeriiiL'.  Schools,  xxi,  803;  xxiii,  838. 
En-land,  xviii,  811 ;  v,  866. 

Elementary  Schools,  xvii,  31 ;  xxiv.  828. 
Under  Education  Department,  xxiv,  661. 
Under  School  Boards,  xxiv,  661. 
Church  of  England  School  Work,  I.  S. 

Secondary  or  Grammar,  xvii,  32. 

Superior.'xvii,  33;  xxiv,  843;  I.  S. 

Supplementary,  xvii,  35. 

Scientific,  xvii,  33 ;  xxii,  9. 

Normal,  xvii,  30;  xxii,  30. 

Reform,  xvii,  34. 

Military,  xxiii,  529,  888. 

Education  Department,  ii,  234 ;  xxiv,  659. 

Revised  Code,  I.  S. 

Fine  Art  and  Research,  xxii,  33,  41. 

Female  Education,  xxiii,  369;  Recent,  I.  S. 
English  Home  Life  and  Training.  I.  S.  385. 
English  Language,  v,  866;  xvii,  28. 

Pedagogy,  xxiii,  177,  419;  xxiv,  $88. 
English  \  iew  of  Foreign  Schools  and  Education. 

American — see  Elgin,  Fraser,  Reed,  Rigg. 

French — see  Arnold.  [Kay. 

German — see  Arnold,  Pattison,  Greenwood, 

Holland— we  Chambers.  Nicholl. 

Swiss — see  Arnold,  Dixon,  Kay. 
English  High  School,  xix,  439. 
Bphori,  v,  §66;  xx,  770. 
Kpidetus,  viii,  683;  x,  764. 
Epicurus,  School  of,  xxiv,  838. 
Episcopal  Seminaries,  xvi,  691 ;  I.  S. 
Equality  of  School  Privileges,  v,  866. 
Erasmus,  Desiderius,  xvii,  21 :  xxiii,  964. 

Educational  Work,  xvi,  793. 
Erasmus  Hall  Academy,  xxiv,  148. 
Erasmus  Smith's  Foundation,  xxiv,  115. 
Erfurt,  University,  xxiv,  115. 

Lectures  in  1449,  vi.  54. 
Kri-ena  Scotus,  xxiv,  360. 
Erlangen,  University,  vii,  724  ;  xix,  895. 
Ernest  the  Pious,  xx,  576. 

School  Method  bv  Reyher,  xx,  577.      [xx,  584. 
Ernest,  II,   School    Rafbnaa  in  (iotha  Altenburg 

Haun's  Common  School  Method,  xx,  586. 
Ernesti.  J.  A.,  Memoir.  \. 
Essex  County  Teachers'  Av-nciation,  xv,  509. 
Esteem  of  Others,  ix.  638;  xxiii.  964. 
Kstienne.  Advice  to  Teachers,  xxiii.  4(5. 
Ethics,  v,  866;  xxiii.  611. 
En.n  (  olleire,  viii,  683;  Army  Claee,  xxiii,  601, 

Expenses  ill  1560,  v,  866. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


59 


Ethnology,  American,  xvii,  424. 

Eucuenia,  or  Commemoration  at  Oxford,  I.  S. 

Eumenes,  xxiv,  838. 

Europe,  xviii,  810. 

Etistochium,  xxiv,  523. 

Evening  Hour  of  a  Hermit— Pestalozzi,  vi,  169. 

Evening  Schools,  v,  86(5 ;  xix,  895 ;  xxi,  803. 

Everett,  Alexander,  H.,  xvii,  21. 

Everett,  David,  "  You'd  Scarce  Expect,"  &c.,  v,  340. 

Everett,  Edward,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Educational  Views,  v,  862;  xvii,  21. 

Argument  for  Public  High  School,  v,  127. 
Everett  School,  Plans  and  Dedication,  ix,  633. 
Everett,  W.  H.,  English  University  Life,  I.  S. 
Ewart,  W.,  Government  Schools  of  Design,  xx,  43. 
Examination  of  Teachers,  v,  867 ;  xvii,  828 ;  xix,  646. 
Examinations,  Different  Kinds,  v,867;  xxiii,  964. 

University,  xvii,  206. 

Admission,  xxiii,  961,  964. 

Promotion,  xxiv,  838. 

Leaving,  xix,  640 ;  xxiii,  507. 

Competitive,  xxiii,  809;  Dangers,  I.  S. 

Commissions,  xxiii,  544.  [140. 

Examinations  of  Schools  of  Different  Grades,  xx. 
Example.  Teaching  by,  x,  194;  xxiii,  43,  387,  964. 
Exchange  of  Programmes  and  Catalogues,  xxiii,505. 
Exclusion  and  expulsion,  xix,  440 ;  xxiii,  506. 
Excursions,  xx,  67;  xxi,  803;  xxiii,  964;  ix,  178. 
Excuses,  Written  if  required,  xix,  441. 
Exercise,  Law  of  Growth,  xii,  515  ;  xiii,  515. 
Exeter,  Phillips  Academy,  xvii,  32. 

Robinson  Female  Academy,  xxiv,  842. 
Exhibition,  Literary  Exercises,  xix,  440. 
Exhibitions  and  Scholarships,  xvi,  793.  [828. 

Exner,  and  Bonitz,  Austrian  School  Reform,  xvii, 
Experimental  Sciences,  xxiii,  507,  964. 
Expression,  Power  and  Conditions,  v,  867. 
Extempore  Speaking,  xxiii,  964. 
Eye  in  Discipline,  I."  8.  501. 
Eye  and  Hand,  Trained  by  Drawing,  xxi,  228. 
Eyes,  or  no  Eyes,  xxiii,  964.  , 

Fabian,  Frangk,  German  Grammar  1531,  xvii,  38. 
Fach  System  of  Organization,  xix,  625. 
Fach  Schulen,  xxi,  803. 

Factory  Children  and  Population,  v,  867 ;  xvii,  19, 
34;  xix,  896;  xx,  771 ;  xxii,  907.  [470. 

Factory  Villages — Examples  of  Improvements. 

Owen,  New  Lanark,  I.  S. 

Akroyd— Copley  and  Halifax,  viii,  305. 

Fairbanks— St.  Johnsbury,  Vt. 

Cheney  Brothers— South  Manchester,  Ct. 
Facts,  basis  of  Scientific  Reasoning,  xxiii,  964  ;JI.  S. 
Facultas  Docendi,  xvii,  478. 
Faculties,  Mental,  v,  867;  xiii,  867;  xvii,  417. 
Faculty,  Origin,  and  Functions,  xxiv,  495. 

Administration,  xix,  666. 

Teaching  body,  xix,  666. 

Faculties,  University,  vi,  318;  xvii,  33;  xix,  896; 
xx,  771 ;  xxii,  907 ;  xxiv,  838. 

Arts  and  Philosophy,  xix,  667;  vi,  21. 

Law,  xxii,  315. 

Medicine,  vi,  28;  xxii,  321;  v,  871. 

Theology,  vi,  25;  xxii,  279. 

Science,  xx,  771;  xxii,  138,  400. 

Finance  and  Economics,  ix,  105 ;  xxii,  847. 

Literature,  xx,  771. 
Fagging,  xvii,  28 ;  xvi,  793 ;  v,  867. 
Fair  of  the  Landit  at  Paris,  xxiv,  838. 
Fairchild,  J.  H.,  Co-education  of  Sexes,  xvii,  385. 
Faith,  Early  Development  of,  xii,  605 ;  xvii,  419. 
Falk,  John,  German  Reform  School,  xxii,  595. 
Family  Life  and  Training,  xi,  616;  xvii,  34,  35. 

Law  of  Massachusetts  Colony,  1642,  S.  V.  1. 350. 

Women  to  be  Educated  for,  xiii,  393 ;  I.  S. 

German's  Estimate  of  French,  xxii,  583. 

English  Doctrine,  I.  S.  369,  499. 
Family  Organization  of  Reformatories,  xvii,  34. 
Fancy,  and  Imagination,  iii,  54,  52 ;  x,  764. 
Faneuil,  P.,  Early  Example  of  Giving,  xvii,  38. 
Fanshawe,  Lady,  Advice  to  her  Son,  I.  S.  399. 


Faraday,  M.,  xxiii,  964. 

Farm  Life  and  Home,  Everett's  Picture,  x,  319. 
Farnum,  Henry,  Benefactions  to  Yale,  I.  S. 
Farnum,  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  30,  38. 

Farnum  Preparatory  School,  iii,  397. 
Fashion,  Academy  at  Dresden,  xix,  698. 
Faville,  O.,  xvii,  38. 
Fear,  ix,  30 ;  xi,  616;  xiii,  578;  xvi,  793;  xxiii,  964. 

In  School  government,  I.  S.  510. 
Federal  City,  Selection  of,  xix,  896. 
Feejee  Islands,  xviii,  810. 
Feeling,  its  Office,  iii,  60 ;  xii, 
Fees,  Tuition,  xix,  896 ;  xxii,  907 ;  xxiv,  670. 
Felbiger,  J.  I.,  xvii,  21,  38;  xx,  771. 
Fellenberg,  xvii,  21,  38;  xxi,  765. 
Fellows,  and  Fellowships,  Aids  and  Rewards,  I.  S. 

Annual  Value  in  Cambridge  and  Oxford,  I.  S. 
Felton,  C.  C.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  21. 

The  American  College,  ix,  112. 

Common  Schools,  x,  287. 
Female  Education,  v,  867 ;  xvii,  35 ;  xxiii,  964. 

American,  x,  764 ;  xvii,  35 ;  S.  V.  456,  572. 

English,  xxiii,  365 ;  I.  S.  384,  427,  399 ;  Recent, 

French,  i,  394 ;  xiii,  867 ;  xvii,  623.  [I.  S. 

German,  x,  764 ;  xvii,  35. 

Christian,  xxiv,  523. 

Catholic,  v,  591,  867,  871. 
Female  Employments,  x,  613;  xvii,  35.  " 
Female  Reformatories,  v,  867 ;  I.  S. 
Female  Society,  Absence  of,  in  University  Life,  I.  S. 
Female  Teachers,  v,  867 ;  xi,  616 ;  xvii,  30. 
Fencing,  xxiii,  964. 
Fenelon,  Memoir,  x,  764 ;  xvii,  21. 

Education  of  Daughters,  xiii,  867. 
Ferguson,  J.,  Architectural  Art,  xxii,  907. 
Ferrara,  University,  xx,  771 ;  xxii,  907. 
Ferrula,  Virga,  in  Roman  Discipline,  I.  S.  325. 
Fescue,  xvi,  121.  [398. 

Festivals  and  Holidays,  xvii,  35 ;  xxii,  655 ;  xxiii, 
Fenerbach,  xvii,  21. 
Fial,  Schools  of  Vienna,  xix,  985. 
Fichte,  xvii,  21 ;  Frcebel's  System,  I.  S. 
Field  Sports,  xxii,  964. 
Final  Examinations,  xvii,  479. 
Finances,  State  and  National,  xriii,  810. 
Fine  Arts,  v,  867 ;  xix,  776 ;  xxi,  803. 
Fines  for  Non-Attendance,  xix,  896 ;  xxiv,  804. 
Finland,  Public  Instruction,  xviii,  810 ;  xxiv,  838. 
Fire-place  for  Ventilation,  v,  39. 
Fires,  Management  of,  xix,  896.  [xxii,  456. 

First  Book  of  Discipline — Schools  and  Colleges, 
Fischer,  J.  A.,  Educational  Views,  x,  764. 
Fisher,  J.  D.,  Education  of  the  Blind,  S.  V.  497. 
Flagg,  A.  C.,  Common  Schools  of  N.  Y.,  v,  133. 
Flanders,  Beguines,  v,  867. 
Fleidner,  Deaconnesses,  xvii,  21. 
Fletcher,  J.,  Borough  Road  School,  xvii,  21. 
Flint,  C.  L.,  Agricultural  Schools,  xxi,  803. 
Floating  Public  School,  Baltimore,  v,  867. 
Flogging,  y,  867,  xvii,  27 ;  xxiii,  345 ;  I.  S.        [325. 

Historical  and  National  Aspects,  xiv,  793 ;  I.  S. 

Dutch,  326.  Grecian,  326. 

English,  327,  345.        Jewish,  326. 

French,  326,  327.         Roman,  325. 

German,  325,  327.        Scotch,  334,  363. 
Florence,  v,  867;  xx,  721. 
Florida,  xviii,  810;  xix,  337. 

Constitutional  Provisions,  xvii,  112, 126. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvi,  381. 

Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  896. 

Common  Schools,  v,  867 ;  xxiv,  838. 
Florists  and  Gardeners,  Teachers  to  be,  x,  541. 
Flower,  Enoch,  First  Teacher  in  Phila.,  xv,  646. 
Fluency,  xxiii,  964.  [xxiii,  831. 

Foibles  and  Folly,  not  to  be  confounded  with  Vices, 
Follen,vii,  725;  xvii,  21,38. 
Food,  xi,  616. 

Forbes,  E.,  Uses  of  Museums,  xvii,  21. 
Force,  W.  S.,  The  National  Capitol,  xix,  145. 
Ford,  J.,  Memoir,  xiv,  395. 
Forgiveness,  Power  of,  I.  S.  520. 


60 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SF.RIKS. 


Fonn,  Pestalozzi  on,  v,  867;  xi,  610. 
Formation  of  Character,  xvi,  323;  I.  S.  513. 
Forms,  or  Classes,  xvi,  793;  xvii,  305. 
Foreign  Languages,  Modem,  xxiii,  9t!4. 
Forestry  Schools,  xvii,  33;  xx,  771 :  xxi,  808. 
For>ythe.  John.  Teacher  prior  to  1776,  S.  V.  382. 
Fortbildnng,  Supplementary,  xx,  771. 
Fortoul.  xx,  771. 

Foster,  Vere,  Labors  for  Schools  in  Ireland. 
Foundation  Schools,  v,  867;  xvii,  32;  xxiii,  964. 
Fourcrov.  French  Secondary  System,  xxii,  061. 
Fowle,  W.  B.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  x,  600. 

Educational  Work,  xvii,  22. 

Female  Monitorial  School.  603. 

Hints  to  Young  Teacher*,  i,  773.  [211. 

Fowler,  W.  C.,  Clergy  and  Common  Schools,  xvii, 
Fox,  Biehop,  Corpus  Christi  College,  I.  S. 
Fox,  Joseph,  Helper  of  Joseph  Lancaster,  x.  CM. 
Fox,  G.,  Eduea'n  of  Indians  and  Negroes,  xix,  376. 

Spelling  Book,  xiii,  634. 
Fox,  W.  G.,  Lyceum,  v,  867. 
Fra  Angelico,  xxiii,  390. 
Framiugham,  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  659. 
France,  v,  HJ7;  xvii,  18,  31;  xviii.  810;  xx,  771; 

Early  Christian  Schools,  xxiv,  737,  838. 

History  of  Public  Instruction,  xi,  610 ;  xx,  213 

Primary  System,  xx,  227,  772 ;  xxii, 

Secondary  Schools,  xx,  293.  669. 

Special  Secondary  Schools,  xxiii,  49  ;  xxiv,  64. 

Superior,  xi.  616;  xxii,  333;  I.  S. 

Supplementary,  xx.  286  ;  I.  S. 

Academies  and  Learned  Societies,  xi,  616. 

Military  Schools,  xvii,  34;  xxiii,  967. 

Reform,  xvii.  34;  xxiv,  720. 

Technical,  xxi,  401. 

Professional,  xxii,  333. 

Normal,  xiii.  867;  xvii,  30;  xix,  237.  323. 

Expenses  for  Public  Ins.  in  detail,  xxii,  672. 

Liberty  of  Instruction,  xxii.  665;  I.  S. 

University  Organization  in  1870,  xxii, 

Discussion  and  Action  in  1874-5, 1.  S. 

Statistics,  xx,  209,  247:  xxii.  331,  671. 
French  Inspection  of  Foreign  Systems,  xxii,  577; 
French  Language,  xix,  896.  [I.  S. 

French  Pedagogy— Treatise,  xxiii.  973. 
Francis,  St..  and"  the  Franciscans,  xxiv,  838, 
Franciscans  in  England,  and  in  Universities,  I.  S. 
Franke,  A.  II..  v.  867;  xvii.  22,  38. 
Frankfort-on-the-Main,  School  System,  xx,  793. 
Franklin,  B.,  xvii,  22;  xxiii.  964;  I.  S. 

Autobiography,  xxiii,  214;  I.  S. 

Bequest  to  Boston  and  Philadelphia, 

Poor  Richard's  Maxims,  xxiii,  249. 

Services  in  Framing  Constitutions.  [33. 

Connection  with  Society  of  Arts,  London,  xxii, 

Educational  Work.  1749,  xv,  647. 

English  School,  I.  S. 
Franklin  Library  in  Franklin,  v,  867. 
Fraser,  James,  American  Schools,  xix,  577. 
Frederic  I,  xvii,  828. 
Frederic  II.,  xvii.  436 ;  xx.  771 :  I.  S. 

Education  and  Educational  Reforms,  I.  S. 

School  Code  for  Silesia.  1764,  xxiii,  861. 

General  Regulations,  1765.  xxii,  868. 

War  Academy.  1764.  xii.  285. 
Frederic  William  III,  xvii,  438;  xx,  356,  363. 
Free  Academies,  xvii.  896;  xix.  896. 
Free  Church  of  Scotland,  x,  591 ;  xxii,  907. 
Free  Cities  of  Germany,  xx.  731. 
Free  Gymnasiums,  xx'ii,  907. 
Free  Schools,  xvi,  793;  xxiv,  888. 

Fn-lish,  v,  .S67;  xii,  732;  xxiv,  868;  I.  S. 

Early  New  England,  xii,  531 ;  xvi,  793,  S.  V. 

American  later  views,  xxiv,  838;  I.  S. 

Maryland,  South  Carolina,  S.  V.  355.  358. 
Free  Schools.  Ili-tori.-al  Development,  I.  S. 
Free  Trade  in  Education — Donald-on.  I.  S. 
Freedmen  Schools,  xix  896 ;  xviii,  810. 

Historical  Review,  I.  S. 

Freewill  Baptists,  Creed  and  Schools,  S.  V.,  602, 603. 
Frelinghuysen,  T.,  School  Funds,  v,  867. 


Freiburg.  University,  xxii,  848. 

Fn-ttinir.  by  the  Tesu-licr,  I.  S.  506. 
•  Frideswide  Priory  founded  7 10,  Oxford,  I.  S. 
i  Freshmen  Laws  in  Yale,  v,  5(51. 

Friars  Preachers,  xxiv,  838. 
:  Fribonrg.  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  771. 

Friday.  Weekly  Review— Hoole,  xvii,  807. 
Flogging-day  at  Eton,  I.  S.  331. 

Fridolin.  xxiv,  42. 

Frieberg.  Mining  School,  xxi,  804. 

Priedlander,  -I..  Teacher  of  the  Blind,  S.  V..  497. 

Friedrich-Wilhelm  Gymnasium,  Berlin,  xix,  896. 
Bache.  Visit  in  1837.  v,  697. 
Arnold's  Visit  in  1865.  xix.  654. 

Friedrich-Wilhelm  Gymnasium.  Cologne,  xix,  896. 

Friends,  Society  of—Members  and  Schools,  S.  V. 
Schools  in  iVelaud,  xv,  738.  F640. 

Frisch.  J.  L.,  Memoir,  xi,  616. 

Fritz's  Journey  to  Dissau,  v,  867. 

Froehlich,  Music  School,  xxi,  826. 

Froebel,  Kindergarten,  v,  867;  xvii,  22;  xix,  886. 
Payne,  I.  S.  471. 

Fronde.  J.  A.,  xxiii.  965. 

Fry,  Elixabctli.  iii,  508. 

Fulda.  MoiuiHic  School,  xxiv,  888. 

Fulk,  and  Filth  Crusade,  xxiv.  760. 

Fuller,  Thomas,  xvii,  22;  xxiii,  905. 
!  Fulgentius,  xxii,  522. 

Furniture  for  School  Buildings,  x,  755;  xvii,  37. 

Furstenberg,  xx.  388. 

Further  Improvement  Schools,  xix,  8%;  xxi,  805. 

!  Gall,  T.  J..  Lectures  on  the  Brain,  Craniology.vii,  75. 
!  Gall,  J.,  Triangular  Alphabet  for  the  Blind,  iv.  135. 
Gallaudet.  E.  M.,  National  Deaf-Mute  College,  I.  S. 
!  Gallaudet,  T.  H.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  867. 
Teachers'  Seminaries.  x\ii.  -- 


American  Asylum  for  Deaf  Mutes,  xvii,  34. 
;  Galleries  and  Museums,  xvii.  33 ;  xxi.  805 ;  xxii ,  907. 
|  Galloway.  Samuel.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvi,  601. 

Ohio  Schools,  xvii,  22.  30. 
i  Gaming  in  Universities,  vii,  725;  xxii,  283. 
j  Gammell,  W.,  Nicholas  Brown,  xvii,  22. 

Moses  B.  Ivcs,  v,315 ;  John  Carter  Brown,  I.  S. 
Gang-Schools  in  Pomerania  1787,  xx,  351. 
Garden,  and  Garden  Culture,  xvii,  33;  xx,  771  ; 
xxi,  804  ;  xxiii,  907. 

Provision  for  Teachers,  xi.  167 ;  xvi.  32,  399,  742. 
Gardiner,  F..  Boston  Latin  School,  xvii* 22. 
Garfield.  J.  A..  National  Education,  xvii,  49. 
Garnet,  James  M.,  Illiteracy  in  Virginia,  xix,  805. 
Gaston,  William,  Studies  and  Conduct,  I.  S. 
Gaza,  Theodore,  Greek  Scholar  in  Italy,  vii,  441. 
j  Generous  Studies,  vii,  356;  x,  267,  281. 
Geneesee  College,  xviii,  200;  S.  V.  190,  552. 
Geneva,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  75;  Technical,  xxi. 

Academy  of  Calvin,  xx,  771.  [742. 

Industrial  Schools,  xxi,  742. 
Genlis,  Madame  de,  x.  231. 
Genoa,  Navigation  School,  xxi.  804. 

Schools  and  University,  v,  867 ;  xx,  186. 
Gentlemen's  Magazine— t  niversity  Articles,  I.  S. 
Gentry.  Sons  of,  in  Public  Schools,  vii,  65. 

Experience  in  Ed.  High  School,  ix,  221. 
Geography  and  History,  xvii.  28.  828. 
Geu-raptiN.  Methods  of  Teaching,  v,  867;  vii.  683; 
xvii".  28 ;  xix,  481.  504 :  xx.  771 ;  I.  S.  485.  510. 
Geological  Suneys.  State— England,  xxii,  110. 
G.-ology,  xvii,  28;  xxiii,  905. 

In  American  Colleges,  I.  S. 
Geometry,  v,  868;  xvii,  28;  xix.  898;  xxi,  804. 

English  Association  to  Impro\e  Methods,  I.  S. 
Georgia,  xviii,  811  :  xix.  686. 

Constitutional  Provi-ion,  x\ii.W;  xxiv.  716. 

SchooK  xvii.  :;-.>:  xix.  ><»;:  xxiv.  838. 

Academi.-.  \.  n;s:   .\xj., 

Coll-  \\iv.888. 

limei-ity,  S.  V..  467. 

Ni'L'ro.  and  Freedinen'-  S<  hools,  xix,  896. 
Georgetown,  xix,  897. 
i  Georgetown  i  'olle-r.  \ix,  69,  897. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


61 


Gerard-Groote,  &c.,  xvii,  22. 
Qerbert,  Pope  Sylvester  II.  xxiv,  3C1. 
German  Cities,  School  Statistics,  xix,  896. 
German  Educational  Reformers,  xiii,  448  ;  xxiii,  973. 
German  Language,  in  German  Schools,  xvi,  460,  733. 

Old  High  German,  xi,  411. 

Influence  of  Luther,  xi,  411. 

Philological  Societies,  xi,  423. 

A-B-C  Books  and  Grammars,  xi,  616. 
German  Pedagoey,  xxiv,  49,  973;  I.  S.  641. 

Donaldson,  Estimate  of  Value,  I.  S.  481. 
German  Reform  Schools,  xvii,  34;  xxii,  589. 
German  Schools  in  the  United  States,  xix,  581. 
German  View  of  Foreign  Systems,  I.  S. 

See  Diestcrweg,  Ilahn,  Holzapfel,  Weise. 
Germany,  xviii,  811;  viii,  348;  I.  S. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31,  32,  33,  34. 

Primary,  viii,  686  ;  xix,  625  ;  xxii,  745. 

Secondary,  v,  868  ;  vii,  725  ;  xxii,  843. 

Universities,  Past  and  Present,  v,  887  ;  xvii,  33. 
Raumer,  vii,  47  ;  xix,  911. 
Von  Sybel.  xvii,  595. 
Dollinger,  xx,  737. 
Authorities  respecting,  vii,  49. 

Special  Schools,  xxi,  21  ;  xxii,  849. 

Teachers'  Seminaries,  xxii,  514. 

Naval  and  Navigation  Schools,  xxvi,  858. 
Gesner,  J.  M..  xvii,  22. 
Gewerbe  Schulen,  xxi,  804. 
Ghent,  Schools  and  University,  xxi,  804. 

School  for  Arts  and  Manufactures,  xxi,  622. 
Gibbon,  Edward,  Reminiscences  of  his  Education, 
Gibbs,  J.  W.,  xvii,  22.  [I.  S. 

Gibbs1  Mineralogical  Cabinet,  I.  S. 
Giessen,  University,  xix,  897;  xxii,  907.  [474. 

Gifts  and  Play,  in  Frcebel's  System,  xix,  613;  1.  S. 
Gillespie,W.  M.,Math.  in  French  Polytechnic,  xvii, 
Gilman,  D.  C.,  xvii,  22,  I.  S.  [22. 

Girard,  Stephen,  Memoir  and  Will, 

College  for  Orphans,  xviii,  202  ;  I.  S. 
Girbert,  J.,  German  Grammar,  xi,  426. 
Girls,  Education,  v,  867,  868  ;  xi,  616  ;  xvii,  35. 

Suggestions,  xxiii,  965. 

Public  Systems,  xx,  771. 

High  School,  xix,  897. 

Industrial,  xx,  77;  xxi,  804. 

Colleges,  S.  V.  572. 
Gladstone,  W.  E.,  Classical  Training,  xxiii,  433. 

University  Organization  for  Ireland,  I.  S. 
Glaris,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  771  ;  xxii,  433. 
Glasgow,  University  and  Schools,  xxii,  907;  xxiv, 

Andersonian  University,  xxii,  31.  [814. 

Glasnevin,  Model  Farm,  xxii,  165. 
Globes,  in  American  Schools,  xvi,  740. 
Glomeria—  Grammar  Scholars  at  Cambridge,  I.  S. 
Glossators  at  Bologna,  xxii,  908.  [965. 

God.  in  Life  and  Education,  xi,  231  ;  xiv,  434  ;  xxiv, 
Goethe,  Pedagogy,  vii,  725  ;  x,  764  ;  xxiii,  965. 
Going,  J.,  American  Institute  of  In.,  ii,  23. 
Gold,  xviii,  811.  [158. 

Goldsmith,  O.,  Village  School  and  School  Life,  iii, 

Education,  xvii,  22;  xxiii,  9(55. 
Good  Breeding  and  Manners,  xxiii,  965,  967. 
Good  Dispositions,  to  be  Encouraged,  I.  S.  523. 
Good  Humor  in  Teachers,  I.  S.  500. 
Goodnow,  I.  F.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvi,  387. 
Goodwin,  Classical  Studies  in  Academies,  iii,  195. 
Goodrich,  S-.  G.,  Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  22. 
Goodwin,  M.  B.,  Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  193. 
Goodwyn,  Morgan,  xix,  390. 
Gordon,  J.,  Normal  Schools  in  Scotland,  x,  583. 
Gorson,  John,  iv,  626. 
Goswin,  Pupil  of  Wessel,  iv,  715. 
Gotha,  Public  Schools,  xix,  897;  xx,  771. 


Law  of  1863,  xx,  591  ;  xxii,  894. 
Programme  of  Lessons,  xx,  588. 
Gymnasium  Illustre,  xx,  595. 


[I.  S. 


GOttingen  University,  xvii.  33;  xix,  590;  xx, 
Student  Life—  Raumer,  vii,  725;  Hart,  I.  S. 
Everett,  E.,  Residence  in  1810,  vii, 

Gottsched,  J.  C.,  Memoir  and  Grammars,  xi,  448. 


Gould,  B.  A.,  Boston  Latin  School,  1826,  xii,  550, 1.  S. 
Gould,  B.  A.,  American  University,  xvii,  22. 
Government,  not  Influence,  xi,  257.  [xxi,  376. 

Relations  to  Education,  xi,  621 ;  xvii,  13,  313  ; 

Relations  to  Science,  xi.  257 ;  xii,  33 ;  xxii,  910. 
Governesses,  School  for,  xx,  771. 
Gown  and  Town,  Quarrels,  xxiv,  493 ;  I.  S. 
Gradation  of  Schools,  American  System,  v,  808;  xi, 
563;  xvii,  28;  xxiii,  337,  379. 

Account  of,  in  Thirty  Cities,  xix,  897. 

Nomenclature  of  Different  Grades,  xix,  897. 

Digest  of  Rules  and  Regulations,  xix,  894. 

Superintendents  and  Teachers,  xix,  403. 

Subjects  and  Courses  of  Instruction,  xix,  465. 

School-houses,  xvii,  37;  xix,  907;  xxiii,  546. 
Grammar,  xii,  480,  733.  ' 
Grammar  Schools,  England,  xvii,  32,  828. 

Burgh  Schools  of  Scotland,  xxii,  458,  704. 

Endowed  Schools  of  Ireland,  xvii,  32 ;  xx,  200. 

American  Latin  School,  xix,  898;  I.  S. 

American,  Existing  Idea  of,  xii,  712;  xix,  898. 
Grammar,  Methods  of  Teaching,  v,  868;  xix,  898. 
Grammar,  Quasi  Faculty  of,  I.  S. 
Grammatici,  Educational  Position,  xxiv,  470. 
Grand  Chanter  in  Paris  Schools,  xx,  771. 
Grand  Jouan,  Agricultural  School,  xxi,  804. 
Grant,  Miss  Z.  P.,  x,  653,  662;  S.  V.  I.,  457. 
Gratuities,  to  Masters,  xxii,  467. 
Gratz,  University,  xix,  897. 

Gray,  F.  C.,  Benefaction  to  Harvard,  ix,  158.      [22. 
Gray,  Thomas,  Education  and  Government,  xvii, 

Lines  on  Revisiting  Eton  College,  viii,  285. 
Graydon— School  Life,  1752-1765,  S.  V.  452. 
Grazer,  System  of  Instruction,  xvii,  22. 
Great  Britain,  xviii,  811 ;  xxii,  21. 

Elementary  Schools,  xvii,  31. 

Grammar  and  Endowed  Schools,  xvii,  32. 

Universities,  xvii,  33;  xxiv,  841 ;  I.  S. 

Museums  of  Science  and  Arts,  xxii,  24,  116. 

Special  and  Technical  Schools,  xvii,  33;  xxi, 

Military  Schools,  xxii,  957,  965.  [21. 

Supplementary  Schools  and  Agencies,  xvii,  38. 

Reformatory  and  Preventive,  xvii,  34. 

Industrial  and  Reformatory  since  1854,  I.  S. 

Reminiscences  of  School  Life,  I.  S. 

Home  Life  and  Education,  I.  S. 

Parliamentary  Grants,  xxii,  23. 
Greaves,  and  Alcott  House,  xii,  642. 

Addresses,  xvii,  22. 
Greece,  Ancient,  Superior  Instruction,  xxiv,  465. 

Language  and  Literature,  xxiii,  965 ;  xxiv,  838. 

Sophists — University  Lectures,  xxiv,  457, 479. 

Literary  Clubs  and  Feasts,  xxiv,  510. 

Resemblances  to  German  University  Life,  512. 
Greece,  Modern,  xviii,  811 ;  xxiii,  407. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31.  [xvii,  28,  828. 

Greek,  as  Subject  of  Instruction,  vii,  725  ;  xvi,  793 ; 

Study,  in  Schools  of  Ancient  Rome,  xxiv,  471. 
Greek  Church,  xviii,  811 ;  xx,  771. 
Greek  Scholars  in  Italy,  vii,  436,  441. 

Influence  on  England,  xxiv,  501. 

Influence  on  Germany,  xxiv,  502. 

Influence  on  French  Education, 
Green,  John,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiii,  606. 

Worcester  Free  Library,  xiii.  608 ;  S.  V.  588. 
Green,  S.  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiv,  600. 

Addresses,  xvii,  22. 

Greenough,  Statue  of  Washington,  xix,  898. 
Gregory,'  Account  of  Origen's  Teaching,  xxiv,  &38. 
Gregory,  J.  M.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xv,  643. 
Grey-friars  Gymnasium,  xix,  657. 
Grey,  Lady  Jane,  and  Ascham,  xxiii,  965. 
!  Gresham,  Sir  Thomas,  College,  I.  S. 
Griefswald  University,  v,  868;  xix,  897;  xxii,  908. 
Grignon,  Agricultural  School,  xxi,  804. 
Grimke,  T.  S.,  How  to  Study,  xxiii,  230. 

Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
Grimm,  Grammatical  Labors,  xi,  617. 
Grimshaw,  A.  H.,  Schools  of  Delaware,  v,  869. 
Griscom,  J.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  22,  39. 
Grisone,  Cantonal  System  of  Schools,  xx,  771. 


62 


«.K \KRAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Grocyn,  W.,  Greek  in  England,  xvi.  663. 

Grosseteste.  R..  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  I.  8. 

Grote,  J.,  xi,  18. 

Guarino.  Teacher  of  Greek  Philosophy,  vii,  436. 

Guatemala,  xviii.  811. 

(iueint/.  ('..  Study  of  Mother  Tongue.  1641,  xi,  426. 

(.11. -rik»'.  Orphan 'Hou-e  at  Halle,  viii.  £53. 

Guernsey,  National  Census  of  1860,  S.  V.  3*21. 

Guiana,  v,  868. 

Guill'ord,  Nathan,  Memoir,  xvii,  22. 

Guizot,  Ministry  of  Public  Instruction,  xvii,  22; 

Circular.to  Teacher*,  xx.  273.  \\.  M5. 

Gulliver,  J.  P.,  Norwich  Free  Academy,  xvii,  22. 
Gunnery,  Schools  of.  xxiii,  965. 
Qnthrie,  T.  M.,  Educational  Work,  v,  8T>8;  I.  S. 
Oats-Maths.  Training  of  the  Senses,  xvii,  22. 
Guy,  Rich.,  Southey's  Ideal  Schoolmaster,  xvi,  440. 
Gymnasia,  German,  vii,  725;  xvii,  32,  828;  xx,771. 

Austria,  xvii,  32. 

Bavaria,  xvii,  32. 

Baden,  xvii,  32. 

Hanover,  xvii,  32. 

Prussia,  xvii,  32;  xix,  897;  xx,  293. 

Saxony,  xvii,  32. 

Wurtemberg,  xx,  709. 

Gymnasia.  German,  and  American  Colleges,  v,  861. 
Gymnasium,  Defined,  and  Scope,  xii,  492,  498. 
Gymnasium.  Relation  to  University,  xvii,  599. 

Importance  of  Director,  xvii,  464. 
Gymnastic  and  Military  Drill  in  Public  Schools, 

viii.  683;  xvi.  793";  xxi.  804;  xxiii.  399.  9»vr>. 
Gymnastics,  xvii,  28. 35 ;  xix.  897 ;  xxi,  804  ;  xx,  771. 

Historical  Development  in  U.  S.,  x,  (507;  xv.  23. 
Gymnastics,  School  of  Military,  Vincennes,  xii,  204. 
Gyroscope,  Solved  by  Suell,  &  Barnard,  xvii,  37. 

Haarlem,  Teachers  Seminary.  Cache,  xiv,  501. 

Prinsen's  Mastership,  xiv.  648. 
Habit,  Reliance  of  the  Teacher,  v,  868;  xi,  617; 
Haddock,  C,  B.,  xvii.  22.  [xxiii.  965. 

Hadrian,  Service  to  Roman  Education,  xxiv,  476. 
Hagar,  D.  B..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xv,  215. 
Hagel,  Philosophy  and  Education.  I.  S. 
Hahn,  L.,  on  French  Education,  xxii,  908. 

Kenan's  Review,  xxii,  577. 
Haimo  of  Halbcrstadt,  xxiv,  839. 
Haldeman,  S.  S.,  Life  of  Keagy,  xxii,  648. 
Hale,  E.  E.,  Edward  Everett,  xvii,  22. 
Hale,  Sir  Matthew,  Plan  of  Study,  xxiii,  77. 
Hall,  Joseph.  Ordering  of  a  Day.  xxiii.  965.     [662. 
Hall.  S.  R.,  Earliest  Teachers'  Seminary,  xvii,  22, 

Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
Hall.  Judge.  Schools  as  they  were,  xvi,  127. 
Halle,  University,  vii,  725;  xix,  898;  xxii,  908. 

Pedagogic  Seminary,  xvii.  489. 
Halls,  Hospices,  Commons— College,  xxiv,  339. 
Halsey,  L.  J.,  Philip  Lindslev.  xvii,  22. 
Hama'nn,  J.  G.,  Pedagogical  Views,  xvii,  22. 
Hamburg,  xviii,  Ml  ;  xix.  898;  xx,  771. 

Technical  and  Special  Schools,  xxi.  804. 
Hamilton,  Alexander.  University  of  New  York,  I.  S. 
Hamilton.  Elixabeth,  Principles  of  Education,  I.  S. 
Hamilton,  J.,  Haniiltoniau  Method,  xvii,  22. 
Hamilton,  Sir  W..  xvii.  22;  xxiii,  965. 

Colleges  and  Universities,  xxiv,  401. 

Prussian  School  System,  xxii,  745. 
Hamill,  S.  M.,  SchoorGovernment,  xvii,  22. 
Hammond,  C.,  Memoir,  I.  S. 

New  England  Academies,  xvi,  403. 

Lawrence  Academy,  ii.  49. 

Monson  Academy,  xvii,  563. 
Hampton  Normal  Institute,  xix.  897;  I.  S. 
Hancock,  John,  Memoir,  xvi,  602. 
Hand-writing,  xvii,  28:  xxiii,  965. 
Hanover,  Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31;  xxi,  804. 

Polytechnic  School,  xxi.  ir,:>. 
Happiness— Find  and  Aim,  xxiii,  965. 
Hardening  the  Body,  xvii,  35;  xxiii.  965. 
Hardwick.  Reformatory  School.  Baker,  xvii,  19. 
Harkness,  Text  Books,"  xii.  567. 
Harniscb,  xvii,  22;  Life,  39;  Work,  xx,  771. 


Harrington,  W.  F..  Manual  of  Instruction,  xix,  492. 
Harris.  T.  W.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  8. 

Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
Harrow  School,  viii,  281  :  xxiii.  965. 
Hart.  J.  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  89. 

Normal  Training,  xvii,  22,  401. 

Hart.  J.  M.,  American  Student  at  (lottingen,  I.  8. 
Hartlih.  S..  Memoir,  xvii,  22. 

Plan  of  College  of  Husbandry,  xxii,  191. 
Hartford.  Public  Schools,  xix,  898.  [131. 


Society  for  Imp.  of  Common  Schools,  1827,  v 

pkins  Found 
Public  Libraries,  i,  738;  Hi.  278;  iv,  837  ;  S.  V. 


Hopkins  Foundation  School,  iv,  681. 


Public  HL'h  School,  xxiii,  908. 

School  Buildings,  xxii.  401,  906. 

Female  Seminarv  —  Beecher,  I.  S. 

Trinity  College,  i,  -105  ;  xviii,  1%  ;  1.  8. 

\Vatkinsoifs  Benefactions,  iv.  837. 
Harvard,  J..  Memoir  and  Monument,  v,  523. 
Harvard  College,  History,  xvii,  33;  xxiv,  839. 

Charter  of,  1650,  ix,  133. 

Studies  in  1794-8,  xvii,  190. 

Studies  in  1808-12,  vii.  329. 

Progress  from  1823-1860,  x.  293. 

List  of  Benefactors,  ix.  139. 

Resources  in  1873,  xxiv,  839. 
Harvey,  T.  H.,  Memoir,  xvi,  608. 
Hauberle,  the  Flogger,  v,  509. 
Haun,  J.  A.  C.,  School  Reformer,  xx,  585. 
Haupt.  University  Landsmannshaften,  xvii,  22. 
Hauv,  V.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  iii,  477. 

Instruction  of  the  Blind,  xvii,  22  ;  S.  V.  497. 
Haven,  J..  xvii,  22. 
Hawley,  G.,  Memoir,  xvii.  22. 
Haynau,  Benefactions,  xvii,  175. 
Hay,  D.  R.,  Lesson  on  Color,  ix,  348. 
Hayti.  xviii,  811. 
Hazard,  James,  xxiii,  965. 
Ha/eltine,  L.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xv.  481. 
Ha/ing  and  Penalism.  xvii,  33;  xxiii,  965. 
Headmaster,  xv.  84.  li:};  xix,  651. 
Headmaster,  and  Rector,  xxii,  453. 
Heads  of  Colleges—  Salaries  and  Duties,  I.  S. 
Heating  Schoolrooms,    xvii.    37,  551;    xxii,  911. 
Health  in  Juvenile  Military  Schools,  xxiii,  &39,  860. 
Health  Lift.  Johnson's,  I.  S. 

Health  of  Body  and  Mind,  xvii,  35  :  xxiii,  147,  965. 
i  Heart-knowledge,  xii,  417;  xxiii,  965.  < 
i  Hebrew  Pedagogy,  v,  869;  I.  S. 
Hebrew  Language,  in  Secondary  Schools,  xvii,  482  ; 

xix,  89B  ;  xxiv.  839. 
Hebrew  Schools,  v,  869  ;  iv,  258. 
Hecker,  J.,  and  Real  Schools,  xvii.  29  ;  xix,  654,  898. 
Hedges,  Nathan.  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 

Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  22. 
Hedge  Schools,  iv,  183. 
Hegius.  Educational  Work,  xvii,  22. 
Heidelberg  University,  xvii,  33;  xix,  898. 

Student  Life,  I.  8.  [839. 

Heikel,  Felix,  Public  Instruction  in  Finland,  xxiv, 
Heinioke.  S.,  Teacher  of  Deaf-mutes,  1754,  xix,  699  ; 
Hel>ingfors,  University,  xxiv,  839.  [S.V.  491. 

Heimstadt,  University,  xx,  744. 
Help  to  Students—  direct  and  indirect,  I.  S.  516,  523. 
Helps,  Arthur,  Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
Henfrey,  A.,  Botany,  xxiii,  965. 
Ilenkle,  W.  D.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvi,  432. 
I  Henry  of  Auxerre,  and  Troves,  xxiv,  8V. 
Henry,  Joseph,  Education,  xvii,  22. 

Smithsonian  Institution,  xviii,  822;  xix,  922. 
I  Henry.  Patrick,  xvii.  94 

Hentschel.  E..  Singing  and  Drawing,  xxi,  804. 
Herl.ault.  Monitor-  in  1717.  \.  1'U. 
i  Herbert.  Sidney.  Military  Education,  xxiii,  605. 
Hercules.  Choice  of  PatBO,  xxiii,  97. 
Herder.  Educational  Work.  xvii.  22. 
Heriot.   «;,-orgi'.   Hospital  for   Education,   ix,  228. 
Hermann  Contractus.  of  St.  (Jail  School,  xxiv,  543. 
Herodes  Atticns,  xxiv,  31.  [965. 

Herschel.  Sir  J..  Mathematics  and  Reading,  xxiii, 
H'T-hau.  Early  Christian  School,  xxiv,  869. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


63 


Hesse  Cassel,  Public  Instruction,  xv,  431. 

Hesse  Darmstadt,  System  of  Public  Schools,  xvii, 

Heyder,  W.,  University  Life  at  Jena,  xvii,  22.     [31. 

Hibernia,  Ancient  Schools,  xxiv,  42. 

Hickson,  W.  E.,  Dutch  and  Ger.  Schools?,  xiv,  684. 

Hieronymians,  Teaching  Brotherh'd,  xvii,  22;  I.S. 

Higginson,  John,  First  Teacher  in  Conn.,  xiii,  725; 

xvii,  369. 

High  School,  American  use  of  term,  v,  869 ;  I.  S. 
High  School  or  University,  DOllinger,  xx,  159. 
High  School  in  Graded  System,  xvii,  28, 32 ;  xxii,  337. 

Latin,  xix,  900;  xxi'i,  908. 

English,  xix,  895. 

Girls,  xix,  897. 

Both  Sexes,  xix,  899 ;  xxii,  337. 

School  Buildings,  xvii,  36 ;  xxiii,  965 ;  xxiv,  551. 
Hilda,  xvii,  625. 

Hildesheim,  Ancient  School,  xxiv,  839. 
Hill,  Thomas,  True  Order  of  Studies,  xvii,  22. 

Faculties  to  be  Educated,  xiv,  81. 
Hill,  M.  D.,  Treatment  of  Crime,  xvii,  22. 
Hillard,  G.  S.,  Boston  Public  Library,  xvii,  22. 
Hillhouse,  James,  School  Fund  of  Conn.,  xvii,  38. 
Hillhouse,  Jas.  A.,  Literary  Career,  xxiii,  208;  I.  S. 
Hints  on  Reading,  xxiii,  965. 
Hintz,  E.,  Natural  History,  xvii,  22. 
Hirschau,  School,  and  Scholars,  xxiv,  356. 
Historical  Development  of  Education ;  I.  S. 

American,  xvii,  18 ;  xxiv,  843 ;  I.  S. 

European,  xvii,  18;  xxii,  772;  I.  S. 
History,  Difficulties  in  Mixed  Schools,  xiv,  699. 
History,  for  Examinations,  I.  S.  531.  [486. 

History,  Pedagogical  Seminary  for  Teachers,  xvii, 
History,  Study  for  Girls,  x,  641. 
History,  Subject  and  Methods  of  Instruction,  v, 

869 ;  xvii,  28,  488 ;  xxiii,  965 ;  xxiv,  839. 
Hoar,  President  of  Harvard,  ix,  137. 

Practical  Science  in  1672,  S.  V.  233. 
Hoar,  G.  F.,  Technical  Education,  I.  S. 

Labors  for  National  Education, 
Hodder,  James,  xvii,  315. 
Hodgson,  W.  B.,  Classical  Instruction,  xxiii,  965. 

Educational  Views,  I.  S. 

Hodgins,  J.  G.,  Education  in  Upper  Canada,  xfM,  22. 
Hofwyl,  and  Fellenberg's  Work,  xvii,  21. 

Reminiscences  of  a  Pupil — Owen,  I.  S. 
Hohenheim,  Agricultural  Institute,  xxi,  804. 
Holberg,  Baron,  xxiii,  965. 
Holbrook.  Josiah,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  viii,  229. 

American  Lyceum,  xvii,  22,  35. 
Holbrook  School  Apparatus,  i,  775. 
Holiday,  and  Supplementary  Schools,  xxi,  804. 
Holidays,  Festivals,  x,  259 ;  xx,  772 ;  xxii,  963. 
Holidays,  National,  xvi,  398 ;  xxii,  655. 
Holidays,  University,  xxii,  292. 
Holland,  v,  869;  xvii,  31,  32;  xviii,  816. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31 ;  xxiii,  409. 

Elementary  Normal  School,  xvii,  30. 

Secondary  Schools,  xvii,  32 ;  xxiii,  410. 

Universities,  xvii,  33. 

Technical  and  Special,  xxi,  804. 

Reform  School,  xvii,  34. 

Law,  and  Regulations  of  1806,  xiv,  665. 

School  Code  of  1857,  xiv,  701. 

Foreign  Estimate,  xiv,  684,  693. 
Holls,  G.  C.,  Reformatory  Schools,  xvii,  22. 
Holstein,  School  System,  xx,  772. 
Holywood,  John  de  Sacrobusto,  vii,  417. 
Holzapfel,  on  French  Education,  xxii,  586. 
Home  and  Colonial  Infant  School  Society,  ix,  449. 

Methods  at  Oswego  Train.  School,  xvii,  713, 831. 
Home  and  its  Surroundings,  in  Geog.,  v,  478,  513. 
Home  and  School,  vii,  389 ;  xvii,  35 ;  xxiii,  964. 

Graser's  System,  vi.  575. 
Home  Life  and  Domestic  Education,  xvii,  35. 

English,  I.  S.  385. 

Home  Preparations  of  Lessons,  I.  S.  507. 
Homer,  ix,  122 ;  x,  765. 
Homeric  Controversy — Everett,  vii,  357. 
Honcainp,  German  Grammar,  xii,  482. 
Honduras,  xviii,  811. 


Honesty,  xxiii,  964. 

Honors  and  Honormen,  English,  I.  S.' 

Hood,  T.,  The  Irish  Schoolmaster,  xvii,  22. 

Hooker,  R.,  Law  Universal,  x,  95. 

Hoole,  Charles,  Memoir  and  Publications,  xvii,  22. 

Object  Teaching,  xvii,  23,  191.  [xvii,  180. 

New  Discovery  qf  the  Old  Art  of  Teaching, 

The  Petty  School,  or  Primary  of  1659,  xvii,  195. 

The  Grammar  School  of  1659,  xvii,  225. 

Scholastic  Discipline  and  Managenf  t,  xvii,  293. 

Comenius'  Orbis  Pictus,  xvii,  192;  I.  S. 
Hooker,  J.,  Botany,  xxiii,  965. 
Hooper,  Samuel,  School  of  Mining,  S.  V.  234. 
Hoosier  Schoolmaster,  I.  S.  520. 
Hopkins,  E.,  Educational  Bequests  in  1654,  xvii,  37. 

Hopkins'  School,  New  Haven,  iv,  699. 

Hopkins'  School,  Hartford,  iv,  681. 

Hopkins'  School,  Hadley,  iv,  682;  I.  S. 

Hopkins  Fund  in  Harvard,  iv,  682 ;  I.  S. 
Hopkins,  Johns,  Memoir  and  Benefactions,  I.  S. 
Hopkins,  Mark,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xi,  225. 

Addresses,  xvii,  23. 
Horace,  xxiii,  965 ;  xxiv,  839. 
Horn-Book,  and  Early  English  School  Books,  xvii, 

187,829;  xxiv,  191. 

Horn-Book  in  American  Schools,  xvii,  187,  555. 
Horner,  Leonard,  xxii,  908 ; 
Horsing,  School  Punishment,  I.  S.  326. 
Hortensius,  Training  as  an  Orator,  xxiii,  965. 
Horticulture,  Schools,  xxi,  304. 
Hoskins,  G.  F.,  Reform  Schools  Abroad,  xvii,  22. 
Hoss,  G.  W.,  Memoir,  xvi,  775. 
Hough,  Franklin,  Census  of  Dis.  Columbia,  xix,  17. 
Houghton,  Lord,  xxiii,  468. 
Houpsy-doupsy,  School  Punishment,  I.  S.  334. 
Hours  of  Instruction,  xvii,  829. 
House-Father  in  Reform  Schools,  xxii,  613,  620. 
Household  Knowledge,  x,  613,  674 ;  xxiii,  964 ;  I. 

S.  381. 

Hovey,  C.  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  viii,  94. 
Howard  University,  xix,  899 :  S.  V. 
Howe,  S.  G.,  Memoir,  and  Portrait,  ix,  339 ;  I.  S. 

Laura  Bridgman,  xvi,  23. 

Boston  Raised  Letter  for  the  Blind,  S.  V.  499. 

Public  Recognition  of  his  Death,  I.  S. 
Hoym,  Von,  Schools  of  Silesia,  xx,  348. 
Hubbarcl,  F.,  Memoir,  xv,  643.  [345. 

Hubbard,  J.  O.,  Normal  Schools  in  New  York,  xiii, 
Hubbard,  Russell,  Free  Academy,  iii,  671. 
Hufeland,  Physical  Management  of  Infants,  x,  243. 
Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  xxiv,  192. 
Hughes,  J.,  Memoir  and  Educational  Work,  I.  S. 
Hulbard,  J.  O.,  Normal  Schools  in  N.  Y.,  xiii,  343. 
Hullah,  Method  in  Music,  xxii,  9U8. 
Human  Figure  in  Drawing,  xxi,  512. 
Humanists  and  Realists,  xix,  663 ;  xx.  772. 
Humanities,  xix,  899 ;  xxiii,  966. 
Humbolt,  Alexander  von,  Natural  Science. 
Humbolt,  William,  xvii,  440;  xix,  899. 

Wisdom  in  Conduct,  xxiii,  273. 
Hume,  D.,  Government  and  Education,  I.S.  461,  391. 
Humiliation  in  Punishment,  I.  S.  503. 
Humphrey,  Heman,  Memoir  and  Portrait. 

School  Reminiscences,  xiii,  125. 

Address  on  Normal  Schools,  xii,  655. 

Influence  of  Conn.  School  Fund,  v,  138.      [379. 
Humphreys,  R.,  Bequest  for  Colored  School,  xix, 
Hunter,  Dr.  Johnson's  Teacher,  xxiii,  359. 
Huntley,  Lydia  Maria  (Mrs.  Sigourney),  iii,  677. 
Huntington,  F.  D.,  Unconscious  Tuition,  xvii,  23. 

College  Prayers,  iv,  23. 
Hullah,  Music  for  the  Million,  xxii,  908. 
Hurty,  J.,  Memoir,  xvi,  776. 

Hutchinson,  Lucy  Apsley,  Home  Education,  I.  S. 
Huxley,  T.  II.,  Natural  History,  xxiii,  96(5. 

Science  in  Schools  of  Every  Grade,  I.  S.  479. 
Hygeanic  Conditions  of  a  Good  School,  xvii.  36. 
Hyfles,  T.,  Vulgar  Arithmetike,  1600,  xxiv,  839. 
Hymns  for  Schools,  xxii,  804 ;  I.  S. 
Hypatia,  xvii,  (524." 
Hythe,  School  of  Musketry,  xxiii,  966. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Iceland,  Home  Industry  and  Education,  xxiii,  411. 
Ickelsamer,  V.,  German  Language,  xvii,  23. 
Idaho.  Territory,  xviii,  si2. 
Idiotic  and  Feeble  Minded  Children,  xvii,  34. 
Iirnatius  do  Loyola,  v,  213;  xiv  450. 
Ignorance,  Popular,  xix.  833;  I.  S.  461. 
Illinois,  xvii,  31,  33  :  xviii,  812;  xix,  899. 

Constitutional  Provisions,  xvii,  107. 

Common  Schools,  v,  870 ;  xxiv,  839. 

Academies,  Colleges,  v,  870. 

Teachers  A--OI •iations.  xvii,  36. 

Normal  Tniversity,  xvii.  745;  S.  V.  57. 

Industrial  University,  S.  V.  1.,  115.  304,  570. 

Legal  Status,  and  Schools  of  Negroes,  xix,  899. 
Illiteracy.  National,  Leigh's  Tables,  xix,  ,S99. 

Census  of  1870,  xxiv,  839. 

Illiteracy,  of  Different  Countries,  xxiv,  839;  I.  S. 
Illustration,  Office  of,  vi,  318. 

Imairination.  iii,  53;  v.  870;  x,  124,  165;  xxiii,  960. 
Imitation,  Instinct,  xxiii,  966. 

Habit,  and  Power,  iii,  55. 
Imperial  Roman  Schools,  xxiv,  839. 
Incorporated  Society,  for  Protestant  Schools,  Ire 
land,  xv,  731. 
Indexes  to  American  Journal  of  Ed.,  xvii,  17,  37. 

National  Series  and  General,  I.  8.,  49. 
India,  British,  xviii,  812. 
India  Service.  Competition  Service,  xxii,  143. 
Indiana,  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31,  8-*);  xviii,  812. 

Constitutional  Provison,  xvii,  115. 

Common  Schools,  v,  870 ;  xxiv,  839. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  870;  xxiv,  833. 

Normal  School,  xvii,  30,  822. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvii,  30. 

Agricultural  College,  S.  V.  I.  570. 

Legal  Status  and  Schools  of  Negroes,  xix,  899. 
Indians,  American.  Early  Schools,  v,  870 ;  S.  V.  486. 

Historical  Development,  ix,  136;  I.  S. 
Individual  Teaching,  v,  871. 
Inductive  Method,  viii,  684;  x,  398.  403. 
Industrial  and  Reformatory  Schools,  iii,  817;  I.  S. 
Industrial  Drawing  and  Design,  xxi,  804;  xxii,  52. 
Industrial  Element  in  Schools,  x,  765;  xxi,  804. 
Industrial  Schools,  xvi,  33;  xxi,  804. 
Infant  Schools  and  Instruction,  xvii,  28;  xix,  899. 

Home  and  Colonial  Society,  ix,  449. 

Oswego  Training  School,  xii,  505. 

Kindergarten  Svstem,  xix,  612;  I.  S.  471. 
Infant  School,  Origin,  x,  352;  I.  S. 
Influence  is  not  Government— Washington,  xi,  257. 
Influence,  Unconscious — Bushnell,  xxiii.  960. 

Power  of  Character— Huntington,  v,  870. 
Ingoldstadt,  University,  vi,  318;  xix,  899. 

Bull  of  Pius  II,  Establishing,  vi,  52. 

Lectures  in  Faculty  of  Arts,  1472,  vi,  52. 
Ingraham,  J..  Primary  Schools,  x,  719;  xvii,  23. 

Sunday  Schools,  xv,  707. 
Inns  of  Court— Rise.  Design  and  Perversion,  I.  S. 

Plan  of  Legal  University,  i,  386. 
Innspruck,  University,  v,  871. 
Inquiries  on  Visiting  a  School,  v,  871. 
Iiif-pertion.  and  Inspectors,  v,  871 ;  ix,  638. 

Austria,  ix.  593;  xvii,  145. 

Baden,  x,  207. 

Bavaria,  viii.  513. 

Belgium,  xxii.  387. 

France,  xx,  772. 

England,  x,  342. 

Ireland,  iv,  369. 

Holland,  xiv.  690,  820. 

Hesse,  xiv,  413. 

Italy,  xx,  150. 

Portugal,  xx,  519. 

Prussia,  viii,  407,  423. 

Russia,  xx.  469,  485. 

Scotland,  xxiv,  604. 

Switzerland,  xx,  772. 

Turkey,  xx.  27. 

Wurtemberg,  xx.  655,  686. 

United  States— See  each  State,  xxiv,  816. 
Inspection  of  Objects.  Habit,  ii,  824. 


Institute  of  France,  xx,  658. 

Institutes  for  Teachers.  Historical,  xv,  387. 

[ntellectnal  Instruction  and  Training,  xvii,  28. 

Interlinear  Versions,  vi,  588. 

Intermediate  Schools,  x,  698;  xiv.  654;  xx,  669. 

Internationa]  Criticism,  see  American,  English, 

French,  German,  &c. 
International  Exhibition,  xxii,  908. 
Internationa]  Scries  of  A.  J.  E.,  xxiv,  545;  I.  S. 
Interrogation,  Method,  ii,  325;  x,  765.       [xii,  733 
Intuition,  and  Intuitional  Methods,  v. 871 ;  viii,  684 ; 
Investigation,  Faculty  and  Habit,  v,  871. 
lona  Monastery,  xxiv,  741. 
Ionian  Islands,*  xxiii,  407. 
Iowa,  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31,  829;  xviii,  812. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  154. 

Common  Schools,  v,  871 ;  xxiv,  839. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  871 ;  S.  V. 

Normal  School,  xvii,  36 ;  S.  V. 

Agricultural  College,  S.  V.  154,  570. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvi,  745. 
Ipswich  (Mass.),  Early  Free  School,  xii,  536. 
Ipswich  Grammar  School,  Wolsey's  Plan  of  Studies, 
Ireland,  xviii,  811.  [vii,  487. 

National  Schools,  xvii,  31,  32. 

Regulations  of  National  Board,  1855,  iv,  365. 

Endowed  Grammar  Schools,  xv,  720. 

English  Educational  Policy,  xxiv,  839. 

Queen's  College's  and  University,  xvii,  33.    [I.S. 

Universities— Dublin  and  Catholic,  xxiv,  839; 

Agricnl.,  and  other  Special,  viii,  684;  xxii,  908. 
Irish  Scholars  in  England  and  France,  xxiv,  839. 
Irish  Schoolmaster— Hood,  v,  871. 
Irregular  Attendance,  v.  871. 
Isocrates,  School  of.  xxiv,  462  ;  xxiii,  27. 
Isodore.  and  Early  Spanish  Pedagogy,  xxiv;  I.  S. 

Alfonzo  X.  ami  his  School  Code 'of  1254,  I.  S. 
Italy,  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31 :  xviii,  813 ;  xx,  772. 

Kingdom  of  Italy,  xx.  772 ;  xxi,  804. 

Schools  of  Ancient  Rome,  xxiv,  839. 

Early  Christ'n  Schools — Cassiodorus,  xxiv,  521. 

Mona-tic  School,  Monte  Cassino,  xxiv,  526. 

lN^,'di;eval  Universities,  Savigny.  xxii.  273. 

System  of  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31. 

Technical  and  Special  Schools,  xxi,  804. 

Universities,  1870,  xx,  183. 

Military  and  Naval  Schools,  xxiii,  967. 
Italy,  and  the  Italians— F.  Von  Raumer,  xvi,  680. 
Itard.  Labors  for  Idiocy,  v,  871. 
Itinerant  Schools,  Norway,  viii,  296. 

Sweden,  xxii,  703. 
Ives,  M.  B.,  Memoir,  v:  871. 
Ives,  Robert  E.,  Memoir. 

Jacksonville,  Ladies  Society,  xvii,  70. 

Jacobi,  Pedagogy,  x,  765. 

Jacobs.  F.,  Method  of  Teaching  Latin,  xvii,  23. 

Jacotot,  and  his  Method,  xvii,  23;  I.  S. 

Jahn,  F.  L.,  Turning  System,  xvii,  23.  [I.  S. 

James  I,  Parliamentary  Franchise  to  Universities, 

James  I,  Schools  in  Virginia,  S.  V.  345. 

Royal  Free  Schools  in  Ireland,  xv,  724. 
Jameson,  Mrs..  Occupations  of  Women,  xvii,  23. 

Sisters  of  Charity,  v,  872. 
Janitor.  Rules  respecting,  xix,  445. 
Janua  Linguarum  of  Bateus,  v,  871. 
Janna  Reserata  Linguarum,  v,  871.  [xxii.  336. 

Jardin  des  Plantes.  ii,  96;  Museum  of  Nat.  History, 
Jardine,  G.,  Philosophy  of  Education,  v,  871. 
Jarry,  General,  Military  School,  xxiii,  560. 
Jarva,  xviii,  812. 

Jarvis,  E.,  Education  and  Insanity,  xvii,  23. 
Jay,  John,  Education  and  the  Stale,  \v.  13. 
Jefferson,  Thomas  Memoir  and  Sehool  Work,  I.  S. 

Educational   Views,  xvii. -.':};  xix,  900. 

Declaration  of  Independence,  I.  S. 
Jena.  University  and  Schools,  xix.  900;  xx,  772. 

Student  Life— Raumer.  vii,  726. 
;  Jerome,  St. .Letter on  Female  Education,  xvii,  23. 
Jesuits  and  their  Schools,  xvii,  28;  xx,  772. 

Constitutions  of  Loyola,  I.  8. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


65 


Jewell,  F.  S.,  Teaching  as  a  Profession,  xvii,  23. 
Jewish  Students  at  Universities,  I.  S.  u 
Jews,  and  their  Educational  Policy,  xvii.  18. 

Moses,  and  the  Pedagogy  of  Old  Test,,  I.  S. 
John  of  Ravenna,  vii,  435. 
John  of  Salisbury,  xxiv,  839. 

Johannes,  P..  Public  Instruction  in  Greece,  xii,571. 
Johnson,  S.,  President  King's  College,  vii,  461. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  Educational  Views,  xxiii,  966. 
Johnson,  Walter  R.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  29. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  23. 
Johns  Hopkins  University,  I.  S. 
Johns,  T.  H.,  Harmer  Scholarships  in  Yale,  x,  694. 
Jones,  Miss,  Oswego  Training  School,  xii,  623,  H43. 

Laws  of  Childhood,  xii,  623. 
Jones.  Sir  William,  Education,  xxiii,  368. 
Joseph  I.  and  II.,  xvii,  829. 
Journals  of  Education,  List  1864,  xvii,  36. 

American — List  for  1875,  I.  S. 

European— List  for  1875,  I.  S. 
Judd.  S.,  Hadley  Hopkins  School,  I.  S. 
Judgment,  How  Trained,  x,  123;  xxiii.  450. 
Judiciary— State  and  National,  xviii,  813. 
Judson.  A.  T.,  Canterbury  School,  xix,  900. 
Julian,  Emperor,  xxiv,  839. 
Julius.  Dr.,  Normal  Schools  in  Prussia,  xvii,  23. 
Junkin,  G.,  College  Chairs  of  Pedagogy,  xiv,  721,723. 
Junto,  Franklin's  Club,  viii,  251 ;  I.  S. 
Jurisprudence,  v,  871 ;  xxii,  278. 

Roman,  Predominant  in  Universities,  xx,  730. 
Jurists,  Members  of  Law  Faculty,  xxii,  278 :  318. 
Juvenile  Criminals  and  Reform  Schools,  xvii,  34. 
Juvenile  Offenders,  v,  871. 

Kaisersworth,  Fliedner's  Institution,  v,  872. 
Kames,  Lord,  Educational  Views, 
Kansas,  General  Views,  xviii,  813 ;  S.  V.2 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  120. 

Elementary,  xiv,  839 ;  xvii,  29,  829 ;  xix,  900. 

Colleges,  S.  V.  548. 

Normal  School,  xvii,  771 ;  S.  V.  678. 

Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts,  S.  V.  161,  578. 

State  Teachers  Association,  xvii,  36. 
Kant,  E.,  Educational  Opinions,  xvii,  22:  I.  S. 
Kasan,  and  Krakow — Universities,  xx,  772. 
Kay,  Joseph,  Education  in  Germany,  xvii,  23. 
Kay,  James  P.,  (Shuttlesworth.)  Memoir,  x,  340. 

Training  of  Schoolmasters,  xvii,  23. 
Keagy,  John,  Memoir,  xxii,  649. 
Keble,  Ideal  of  a  Christian  School,  xix,  580. 
Keenan.  P.  J.,  Irish  National  Schools,  xvii,  23. 
Keene,  Public  Schools,  xix,  900. 
Kellner.  on  Prussian  Catholic  Schools,  xx,  772. 
Kelly,  Robert,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
Kempis,  Thomas-a,  xvii.  39. 
Kemshead,  Science  Teaching,  I.  S.  479,  480. 
Kensington,  Conn.,  Mrs.  Willard's  Work,  vi,  160. 
Kent,  James,  v,  872;  I.  S. 
Kentucky,  xvii,  33;  xviii,  813:  S.  V.2 

Historical  Data,  of  Schools,  xvi,  352:  xxiv,  839. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii.  100. 

Elementary  Schools,  v,  872:  xxiv,  253. 

Secondary,  1840  and  1850.  v.  872;  xxiv,  171. 

Superior,  xxiv,  155;  171 ;  S.  V.  548. 

Associations  and  Conventions,  xvii.  30. 

Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts,  S.  V.  161,  570. 

Colored  Population.  Freedmen,  xix,  900. 
Kepler,  v,  664 ;  xvii,  23. 

Kiel,  University  and  Schools,  xix,  900;  xx,  646. 
Kiew,  University  and  Schools,  xx,  772. 
Kildare  Place  Society,  Schools,  xxiv,  687. 
Kildare  Place  Society,  Schools— Ireland,  xv,  735. 
Kinderrnann,  Industrial  Schools,  xxi,  804;  I.  S. 
Kindergarten,  xvii.  28:  xix.  900.     Payne,  I.  S.  471. 

Progress,  and  Condition  in  1876,  I.  S. 
Kings.  Examples  of  Educational  Work,  I.  S. 

Alfonzo  X.  of  Spain,  School  Code  1254. 

Alfred  the  Great,  I.  S. 

Christopher,  School  Code  of  1558,  vi,  426. 

Ernest  the  Pious,  xx,  582. 

Frederic  II.,  xx,  907 ;  I.  S. 

6 


Maria  Theresa,  xxii.  879;  I.  S. 
Kings  College  (Columbia),  xxiv,  839;  S.  V.  462. 
Kingsbury,  John,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Young  Ladies'  High  School,  I'rovidence,  v,  23. 
Kingsley.  J.  L.,  History  of  Yale  College,  v,  872. 
Kirke  White,  v,  872.     ' 
Kirkpntrick.  The  University,  xxiv,  853. 
Klupfel,  History  of  Tubingen  University,  xvii,  23. 
Kneeland,  J.,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Knight,  Charles,  Economic  Science,  xvii,  23. 
Knight,  L.,  Life  of  Colet,  xvii,  39. 
Knighton,  W.,  Lectures  on  Education,  x,  573. 
Knitting,  Provision  for  in  Schools,  v,  853 ;  x,  643. 
Knowledge  and  Pedantry,  I.  S.  426. 
Knowledge,  and  Power  of  Communicating,  I.  S.  497. 
Knowledge,  and  Republics,  xix,  837. 
Knowledge  and  Wisdom  — Bouthey,  xxiii,  966. 
Knowledge,  Organized,  I.  S.  477. 
Knowledge,  Personal  and  not  Inherited,  xix,  841. 
Knowledge.  Relative  Values— Spencer,  xvii,  25. 
Known,  and  the  Unknown,  I.  S.  509. 
Knox  College,  xviii,  196;  S.  V.  548. 
Knox,  James.  Memoir  and  Benefactions,  I.  S. 
Knox,  John,  v,  215;  xxiii,  866:  I.  S. 
Knox  Vicesimus,  Oxford  as  it  was,  I.  S. 

Liberal  Education— Useful  and  Polite,  I.  S. 
Kochly,  Gymnasium  Culture,  v,  360. 
Komensky,  see  Comcnius. 
Konigsburg,  University  and  Schools,  v,  872;  xix, 

9  iO;  xx,  772;  xxi;  804;  xxiii,  908. 
Koran,  Basis  of  Turkish  Education,  xx,  2. 
Koritska,  Polytechnic  Schools,  xxi,  804. 
Kotzebue,  Victim  of  Sand's  Fanaticism,  vii,  726. 

Brandt  with  the  Iron  Forehead,  vii,  186. 
Krause,  J.,  and  Mrs.  Krause  Boelte,  I.  S. 

Model  Kindergarten— New  York. 
Krug,  Educational  Opinions,  xvii,  23. 
Krupp,  Steel  Works  and  Science,  xxi,  772. 
Krusi,  II.,  Life  and  Educational  Views,  xvii,  23. 

Life  of  Pcstalozzi, 

Krutslingen,  Normal  School,  xx,  772;  xxi,  804. 
Kuratli,  M.,  Reform  School,  xvii,  23;  xxi,  804. 
Kurmark,  School  Reforms,  xx,  352,  358. 
Kussnacht,  Normal  School,  xxi.  772;  xxii,  361. 
Kyrle,  the  Man  of  Ross,  xxiii,  966. 

Labor  of  Mind  and  Hand,  xxiii,  966. 

Labor,  in  Reformatories,  iii,  821 ;  xxii,  626,  966. 

Labor  and  Science,  xxi,  679;  xxii,  908:  xxi.  765. 

Laboratory,  the  first  in  Yale  College,  1804,  I.  S. 

Laboratory  Work,  in  Science  Teaching,  I.  S. 

Laboratories,  for  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  804. 

Lace  Making,  Schools  for,  xvii,  35;  xxi,  804. 

Lacedamonian  System,  xvii,  28. 

Lacordaire,  F.,  Memorial,  xxiv,  377. 

Ladd,  J.  J.,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 

Lafayette,  Influence  on  American  Youth,  x,  280. 

Lanark,  New — Owen's  Educational  Work,  I.  S. 

Lancaster,  Joseph,  Memoir  and  System,  xvii,  23. 

Monitorial  System,  v,  876 ;  xvii,  28. 

Influence  on  American  Schools,  x.  361,  599. 

Different  Countries,  x,  765 ;  I.  S. 
Lancaster,  Reform  School  for  Girls,  v,  872. 
Land  Measuring,  School  for.  xxiii,  9(56. 
Land  System  of  the  United  States,  xviii,  813. 

Plans  for  aiding  Schools,  by  Maxcy,  Strong, 

Clay,  Hoar,  I.  S.  |65 ;  I-  »• 

Land-grants,  Colonial  Towns  and  Assemblies,  xvii, 

Land-grants,  State  Funds,  v,  883;  xvii,  31,  65. 

Land-grants^  by  United  States,  xvii,  65;  xxiv,  164. 

Deaf  and  Dumb  Institutions,  xxiv,  164. 

Common  Schools,  xxiv.  164. 

Academies  and  Seminaries,  xxiv,  164. 

Colleges  and  Universities,  xxiv,  164. 

Agricultural  and  Mechanical  Colleges,  xxiv,  164. 

Wagon  Roads,  Railroads  and  Canals,  S.  V. 
Landit  Fair  at  St.  Denis,  xxiv,  757. 
Landmannschaften,  vi,  318. 

Landor,  W.  S..  Imaginary  Conversation,  xvii,  23. 
Lanfranc,  at  Abbey  "of  Bee,  xxiv,  367. 
Lang,  1.  F.,  Secondary  Schools  in  Austria,  xvii,  134. 


66 


(.KNKKAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SKI! IKS 


Lange,  R.,  Educational  Work,  xvii,  23. 

Large  Schools*,  v,  87*2. 

I.ani:ua<:e,  Command  of  Native,  xxiii,  966. 

Language*,  Study  of,  v,  872;  xix,  627;  xxii,  900; 

xxiii,  966. 

Lansing,  state  Agricultural  College,  s.  V.  267. 
Las  Casas,  Missions  to  the  Indians,  xxiv,  886. 
Lastadie,  Primary  Normal  School,  xiv,  192. 
Latrran  Council  in  1215,  xx,  772. 
Lathrop.  ,T..  Address  in  1813,  xv,  500. 
Latimer.  Sermon  of  the  Plough,  1648,  x,  324. 
Latin  Grammar,  xvi,  670. 

Latin  Language  and   Literature,  vi.  623;  xvii,  28, 
829:  xix,  900;  xx,  772;  xxii,  908;  xxiii,  966. 

Re'ations  to  Christianity,  xxiv,  40. 

Subject  of  Study  in  Schools,  xxiii.  966. 

Methods  of  Instruction,  xvii.  28. 

Value  to  English  Scholars  --Macaulay,  I.  S.  454. 
Latin  Plays,  Acting,  v,  678;  xxiv,  &39. 
Latin  Schools,  Old.  xvii,  32:  xix,  900;  Scotland, 

xxii.  908;  Germany,  xxiii.  9(36. 
Latin  Versification,  xxii",  425. 
Laud,  Archbishop,  and  the  Universities,  I.  S. 
Lauenberg,  Public  Schools,  xx,  772. 
Laureation,  Scotch,  xxiv,  839. 
Laval  University,  v,  872. 
Lavater,  and  Basedow— Goethe,  v,  872. 

Marks  of  a  Good  Converter,  xxiii,  184. 
Law.  and  Legal  Profession,  xxiv,  966. 

Advice  on  the  Study,  I.  S. 
Law  Schools,  Ancient,  xxiv,  839. 
Law  Schools,  in  Medieval  Universities,  xxii,  277. 

Law  Lectures  at  Bologna,  xxii,  327. 

Faculty  and  Profession  in  Scotland,  xxiv,  797. 

University  Proposed  in  London,  xvii,  33;  I.S. 
Law  Schools. "American,  xviii,  208,  S.  V.  564. 

Historical  Development,  S.  V. :  I.  S. 
Laws  respecting  Kleinentary  Schools,  xvii,  31. 

Connecticut,  of  1650.  1 701-1 799,  v,  116. 

Massachusetts,  of  1642-1649,  1670,  1692,  1789, 
1827,  xxiv,  697.  [700. 

Holland,  Laws  of  1806,  xiv,  667 ;  of  1857,  xxiv, 

Prussia,  1763,  xxii,  861,  8(59. 

Saxe  Gotha,  1863,  xxii,  894. 

Austria,  1774,  879  ;  of  1869,  885. 

England,  of  1870,  xxiv,  659. 

Saxony,  of  1589.  vi.  ;:;•.'. 

Norway,  xxiii,  632. 

Zurich,  xvii,  527. 

Argovia,  xxiii,  638. 

Sweden,  xxiii.  636. 

Wurtemburg,  of  1559,  xi,  426. 
Lawrence,  Amos,  Benefactions,  v,  872. 
Lawrence.  Abbott,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  878. 

Lawrence  Scientific  School,  v,  872;  xxiv,  451. 
Lawrence.  William,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  872. 

Lawrence  Academy,  Groton,  v,  872. 
Leach,  D.,  Providence  Schools,  xvii,  23. 

Plans  for  Village  Schools,  v.  972. 
Learned  Societies,  xxii,  908;  xxiii.  966. 
Learning  and  Experience,  xxiii,  447. 
Learning  and  Teaching,  xxiii.  966:  I.  S.  478,488. 
Leather  Strap,  in  Punishment,  I.  S.  326. 
Leaving,  or  Final   Examinations,  xix,  646;  xxii, 

originated  with  Huniboldt.  xix,  899.  [843. 

Lecture  and  the  Book,  in  Teaching,  v,  270,  775; 

xxiii,  966. 

Lecture  Fee  in  Old  Universities,  xxii,  908. 
Lecture  School,  in  Scotland,  xxii,  455.         [75,  292. 
Lectures,  Instruction  by,  xvii,  28;  xx,  772;  xxii, 
Lectures,  Popular— American  System,  v,  873. 

Historical  Development,  I.  S. 

Set  Everett.  Griscom,  Holbrook.  Silliman. 
Lee,  Richard  Bland.  New  England  Schools,  xvii,  94. 
Legal  Status  of  the  Black  Population,  xix,  901. 
Legibility,  First  Object  in  Penmanship,  xvii,  316. 
Le-rand  "and  Oberlin,  xxii,  594. 
Leibnitx.  Educational  Views,  xvii,  23. 
Leicester  Academy,  xvi,  413;  I.  S.  [801. 

Leigh,  Edwin.  Illiteracy  in  the  United  States,  xix, 
Leigh,  Lord,  Visit  to  Mettray,  Hi,  731. 


I.'  ';j>-ic.  Burgher  School,  ix,  210;  xx,  772. 
Univerotj  and  s<-i K  xix,  901;  x.\i.  sol. 


Lecture) — Income     Expenses,  1.  S. 

Sin, lent  Life,  1.8. 

I. cut  Verses  and  Cour-ini;  at  Oxford,  I.  S. 
Lenthal.  Robert.  Free  School  in  HMO,  S.  V.  349. 
Leo  X,  Revival  of  Learning,  vii,  454. 
Laniard  and  Uertrudc-  Pestaloz/.i,  v.  873. 
I.""!>old  II.  Austrian  Schools,  xvii,  134. 
Le  Roy.  Public  Instruction  in  Spain,  xxiii,  641. 

Public  Instruction  in  Portugal,  xxii.  513. 
L.-s-on,  Plans  for  Classical,  v,  873;  xx,  552,  715. 

Plans  for  Real,  v.  873. 

Plans  for  Technical,  xxi.  806. 

I.'  --ens,  Preparation,  and  Mutual  Hearing,  I.  S. 
Letter-writ  in-,  xxiii.  966.  [508,  544. 

Lever,  Thomas.  Sermon  in  1550,  x,  325. 
Lewis,  Addin.  Educational  Bequests,  x,  694. 
Lewis.  Dio.  The  New  Gvmnastics.  xvii,  23. 
Lewis,  S..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  727. 
Lewis,  Taylor.  Teachim:  Latin  and  Greek,  xvii,  23. 
Lexington  (Va.)  Military  Institute,  xxiii,  825. 
Leyden  University,  v.  873. 

Libera— applied  to  School— Libera  Schola.  xvii.  412. 
Liberal  Education,  pi  tie  rent  Aspects  of,  xxiii,  966. 

Errors  in  American,  xv,  158;  French  Imperial, 

xxii,  675;  University,  I.  S. 
Liberia,  xviii,  813. 

Liberty  of  Instruction,  v,  872;  xx,  772;  xxiv,  840. 
Libraries,  xvii,  35 ;  xviii,  813 ;  xix,  901 ;  S.  V.  585. 

Ancient,  xxiv,  840. 

State— Historical.  S.  V.  587. 

American  Text  Books— Barnard's,  xvii,  36. 

Educational  Bureau  at  Washington.  I.  S. 

College  and  Literary  Institutions.  S.  V.  585. 

School,  for  Teachers  and  Reference,  xxii,  889. 

School  District,  v,  883. 

Sunday-School,  S.  V.  510. 

Public— Cities,  S.  V.  587. 

Lierre,  and  Nivelles,  Normal  Schools,  xvii,  886. 
Lieber.  Francis,  Educational  Views,  xvii,  23. 
Liechtenstein,  xviii,  813;  xix,  901  ;  xx,  9u8. 
Life,  Actual  Experience,  xxiv,  966. 
Liege,  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  772. 

university,  xxi.  772 :  xxiv,  792. 
Light  in  School-rooms,  x,  522. 
Lilly.  W.,  and  St.  Paul's  School,  xvi,  670. 
Limberg,  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31. 
Limitations  to,  Teachers'  Power,  I.  S.  490,  514. 

School  Curriculum. 

Taxation  on  Property, 

Linacre,  Services  to  Greek,  and  Medicine,  I.  S. 
Lincoln  Grammar  School,  xii,  714. 
Lincoln  University,  xix.  382. 
Lindsley.  Philip.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  vii,  9. 

Educational  Views,  vii,  23. 
LiiiLT.  II..  Swedish  Gymnastics,  xv,  236. 
Linnaeus,  xxiii,  966.  * 
Linnean  Society,  London,  xxii,  38. 
Lioba,  St.,  xvii,  625. 

Lippe,  Detmold.  Public  Schools,  xvii.  31 ;  xviii,  814. 
Lipne-Schaumberg,  xvii,  31 ;  xxii.  908. 
Lisbon.  Public  Schools,  xx.  772;  xxii,  906. 
Literature  and  Seience.  xxiii,  966. 
Literature  of  Education,  xvii,  33. 
Literature  as  a  Profession—  Fronde,  xxiii,  966;  I.  S. 

Hillhouse.  James  A.,  I.  S. 

Literature.  Books  Studied  for  their,  xxiii,  444,  966. 
Lit tli 'Children— see  Kindergarten—  Infant  Schools. 

Raumer.  vii,  381 :  Young,  xiv.  165 ;  Froebel,  I.  S. 

BushiH-11.  I'a-tim.-and  Holidays.  xiii,i«.    [471. 
Livinir.  or  a  Trade.  Instruction  for,  I.  S.  488. 
Lloyd,  R.,  The  Usher,  xvii.  •_'.;. 
Lloyd,  Sarah,  Shenstones'  School  Mistress,  v,  878. 
Local  Aministration  of  Public  Schools,  xix,  901. 
Locality.  School  of— Masson,  v.  873;  x,  648. 

Influence,  xvi,  881 ;  xxiii,  211. 
Locke.  J..  Thoughts  on  Education,  xvii,  23, 

Essay  on  Study — Aims  and  Methods,  xxiii,  966. 

Expulsion  from  Oxford— Political,  I.  S. 
Locke,  W..  Ragged  Schools,  xvii,  23. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


67 


Loft,  Capel,  Self-formation— School  Life,  I.  S. 
Logic,  and  Logical  Faculty,  xiii,  966. 
Lombardy,  Education  under  Austrian  Rule,  xvi,689. 
London,  Scientific  Institutions,  xxii,  909. 

School  Board,  xxiv,  84t;  Operations,  I.  S. 

University,  I.  S.  421,  459. 

St.  Paul's  School,  xvi,  667. 

Christ  Hospital,  viii,  270 ;  xv,  iii ;  I.  S.  9. 
Longstreet,  School  Life  in  Georgia,  xvi,  121. 
Lord,  A.  D.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvi,  607. 
Lorimer,  J.,  Scotch  Universities,  xxiv,  840. 

Law  School  and  Profession  of  Law,  xxiv,  791. 
Lothrpp,  J,  II.,  Memoir  of  Lawrence,  xvii,  23. 
Louisiana,  General  Views,  xvii,  814. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  103 ;  xxiv,  717. 

Public  Schools,  xvii,  32 ;  xxiv,  256. 

Colleges,  and  Higher  Seminaries,  v,  873. 

Legal  Status  of  the  Blacks,  xix,  901. 

Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  901. 

New  Orleans— City  Schools,  xix,  903. 
Louisville,  City  Schools,  xix,  901. 

Plans  of  Building,  xxiv,  840. 
Louvain,  University — Examinations  and  Degrees, 

xxiv.  789. 

Love,  as  a  Motive,  v,  873. 
Love,  Hope,  and  Patience— Coleridge,  v,  873. 
Lovell,  J.  E.,  Teacher  at  New  Haven,  I.  S.' 
Lovell,  John,  Eulogy  on  Peter  Faneuil,  xvii,  23. 

Mastership  of  Boston  Latin  School,  S.  V.  450. 
Lowe,  R.,  Primary  and  University  Studies,  xxii,  909. 

Revised  School  Code,  Criticism,  I.  S. 
Lowell,  John,  Memoir  by  Everett,  v,  427. 
Lowell  Lectures,  v,  437  ;  Results,  I.  S. 
Lowell,  City  Public  Schools,  xix.  901. 
Lowth,  Robert,  Memoir  of  Wykeham,  xvi,  497. 
Loyola,  Memoir  and  Society  of  Jesus,  xiv,  455. 

Constitutions  respecting  Instruction,  I.  S. 
Lubeck,  School  System,  xx,  773;  xix,  901 ;  xxii,  909. 
Lucas,  Margaret,  Duchess,  &c.,  I.  S.,  397. 
Lucerne,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  773. 
Ludlow,  Roger,  Conn.  Code  of  1650,  S.  Y.  352. 
Lupus,  of  Ferrieres,  xxiv,  840. 
Luther,  Memoir  by  Sears,  xxiv,  97. 

Letter  to  City  Councils  of  Germany,  iv,  429. 

Educational  Views,  v,  873 ;  x,  765 ;  xvii,  23. 
Lutheran  Church  in  U.  S.,  S.  V.  636.  [639. 

'Churches,  Sunday-schools,  Newspapers,  S.  V. 
Lycee,  French,  v,  873 ;  xx,  773. 

Russia,  xx,  495 ;  xxiv,  840.  [511. 

Lyceum,  American,  viii,  685 ;  x,  607 ;  xiv,  535 ;  S.V. 

European,  vii,  216 ;  xx,  773. 
Lycurgus,  and  Spartan  Education,  xiv,  611. 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  Physical  Science,  xxiii,  966. 
Lyman,  Theodore,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  x,  764. 

Benefaction  to  Mass.  Reform  School,  x,  11. 
Lyon,  Mary,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  x,  670.  [23. 

Principles  of  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary,  xvii, 
Lyons,  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  772. 
Lytton,  Sir  E.  Bulwer,  School  Address,  xvii,  23. 

Management  of  Money,  xxiii,  265. 

M.  A.  Magister  Artium,  vi,  21 ;  xx,  770 ;  xxiv,  840. 

Cambridge  Requirements,  I.  S. 

Oxford  Requirements,  I.  S. 

Harvard,  Yale,  &c. 
Macerata  University,  xx,  773. 
Machine  Building,  Schools  for,  xxi,  805. 
Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  xxiii,  967. 
Macaulay,  T.  B.,  State  and  Education,  xvii,  23; 

Travel  and  History,  xxiii,  966.  [431. 

Athens,  xxiv,  840;  Academic  Education,  I.  S. 

Female  Education  in  17th  Century,  463. 

Competitive  Exam,  for  Appoint.,  I.  S.  461. 
Maclure,  W.,  Pestalozzianism  in  U.  S.,  xii,  734;  I.  S. 
Madagascar,  xviii,  814. 
Madison.  James,  xvii,  23  ;  I.  S. 
Madras  College  (English)  St.  Andrew's,  xxii,  490. 
Madras  System,  xvii,  20,  28. 
Madrid,  Schools,  xxiii,  643,  649,  652. 

University,  xx,  754;  xxi,  800;  xxiii,  651. 


Magistracy  of  Berlin,  and  Prussian  Cities,  xix,  901. 

Magyar  Schools,  xvii,  829. 

Maine,  Area,  Population,  &c.,  xvii,  32;  xviii,  814. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  91. 

Common  Schools,  xvii.  32 ;  xxiv,  840. 

Normal  Schools  and  Institutes,  xvii,  829 ;  S.V. 

Academies  and  Seminaries,  v,  873.  [578. 

Superior  Instruction,  v,  873;  Si  V.  55. 

State  Teachers'  Association,  xvii,  36. 

Professional  Schools,  S.  V.  558.  [570. 

Agricultural  and  Mechanical  College,  S.  V.  168, 

Colored  Children,  xix,  342. 
Maiduf,  and  Malmesburg,  xxiv,  43. 
Man,  as  the  Subject  of  Educat'n,  xiii,  869;  xxii,  909. 
Man  of  Ross,  and  True  Use  of  Riches,  xxiii,  967. 
Management,  School,  xvi,  395 ;  xx,  773. 
Mann,  Horace,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Teachers'  Motives,  xiv,  277. 

Specml  Preparation,  xvii,  24. 

Existing  Popular  Education,  xix,  901. 

Reports  as  Secretary  Mass.  Board,  v,  623. 

College  Code  of  Honor,  v,  874. 

Lectures  on  Education— Contents,  i,  772. 

Addresses  at  National  Con.,  Phil.,  1849,  I.  S. 

Controversies,  xv,  537. 

Mann,  Mrs.,  Educational  Views,  xix,  616;  I.  S. 
Manners,  xvii,  28,  826;  xxiii,  966;  xxiv,  840. 
Manning,  James,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  S. 
Manual  Labor  in  Schools,  xvii,  35,  36,  259. 

Experience  at  Worcester  and  Ithaca,  260. 

Chester  Training  College,  x,  559. 

St.  Mark's  Training  College,  x.  540. 
Manufacturing  Districts,  Schools  for,  xv,  305. 

Ed.  Agencies  fora  Factory  Population,  viii,  305. 
Mansfield,  E.  D.,  Military  Academy,  xvii,  23. 

National  Land  Grant  to  Ohio.  S.  V. 

American  Education,  i,  773. 
Mansfield,  Jared,  xxiii,  967. 
Mansfield,  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  753. 
Mansfield,  Schools  in  Luther's  time,  xxiv,  840. 
Map-Drawingand  Outline  Maps,  xvii,  623 ;  xix,  901 ; 

xxiii,  967;  Schroeter  Series,  ix,  623. 
Map-holder,  xvi,  576. 
Marcel,  C.,  Conversational  Method,  xi,  91,  330. 

Object  Lessons,  xvii,  23. 

March,  F.  A.,  Study  of  English  Language,  xvi,  562. 
Marches,  School  Military  Corps,  xxiii,  860,  869. 
Marenholtz-Bulow— Frcebel  and  his  System,  I.  S. 
Marenholtz,  Education  by  Labor,  I.  S. 
Maria,  Theresa,  Educational  Reforms,  xvii,  829; 
Mariaberg,  Teachers'  Seminary,  xxiii,  111.      [I.  S. 
Marine  and  Maritime  Schools,  xiv,  822;  xxi,  805; 

xxii,  909;  xxiii,  829. 

Marion,  F.,  Free  Schools  for  So.  Carolina,  xvii,  23. 
Marlborough  College,  xxiii,  594. 
Marks,  David,  School  Pioneer,  v,  64. 
Marks  for  Relative  Value  of  Studies,  xxiii,  967. 
Marks  for  Merit  and  Demerit  in  Studies  and  Con 
duct,  xxiii,  967. 

Marselia,  Marseilles,  Early  Greek  School,  xxiv,  38. 
Marsh,  Mrs.  C.  C.,  Life's  Lesson,  v,  29. 
Marsh,  J.,  College  Reforms  in  1829. 
Martinets,  and  Collegers,  xxii,  311. 
Martineau,  James,  xxiii,  967;  I.  S. 
Martini,  Teachers'  Associations,  xvii,  134. 
Mary,  Queen,  English  Universities,  I.  S.  •      [S.V. 
Maryland,  General  Statistics,  xvii,  31;  xviii,  814; 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  97. 

Common  Schools,  xvii,  829 ;  xxiv,  840. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  874;  xxiv,  840. 

Johns  Hopkins  University,  I.  S. 

Peabody  Institute,  iii,  226;  xvii,  24;  S.V. 

St.  John's  College,  xvii,  33. 

State  Conventions  and  Associations,  xvii,  36. 

Colleges  and  Seminaries  for  Girls,  S.  V.  573. 

Agricultural  College,  S.  V.  172,  273,  570. 

Legal  Status,  and  Schools  of  Freedmen,  xix,  902. 
Mason,  J.,  Old-fashioned  Home  Training,  xvi,  331. 
Mason,  L.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  29. 

Music  in  Schools,  iv,  142. 
Mason,  S.  W.,  Physical  Exercise  in  School,  xvii,  24. 


68 


..i:\ERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Massachusetts.  Statistic?,  v.  874  :  xvii,  31 ;  xviii.  M  1. 

Karly  Free  School*,  v,  807. 

S( -hools  as  they  were,  xvi,  127;  S.  V.  351. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  83. 

Laws— 1642.  1789.  1826,  1873,  xxiv.  840. 

System  as  inattirecl  in  1873.  xxiv,  264:  I.  S. 

tiarvard  College,  v,  869;  xvii.  33;  xxiv,  828. 

Academies  and  clasi-ical  Schools,  xvii.  :;-j. 

Normal  Schools— Institutes- xvii,  30.  8211. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvii,  36. 

.\Lrricultiini]  College.  S.  V.  249,  572. 

Technical  Institute.  S.  V.  237.  572. 

Bot> ton  and  other  City  School?,  xix,  891. 

School  Architecture,  xvii.  37:  xxiv,  197. 

Female  Seminaries  and  Colleges,  S.  V.  573. 

Charitable  Institutions,  xviii. "369. 

Legal  Status  mid  Schools  ot  the  Negro,  xix,  902. 
Massniann  Sunday  Schools,  xxi.  777. 
Masson,  D.,  Self  and  College  Education,  xvii,  24. 
Master  of  Arts,  Exercises  for  in  1780.  Oxford,  I.  S. 
Mathematics,  v,  874;  xvii,  28.  829;  xix,  902;  xxii, 
909;  xxiii.  967;  xxiv.  H40. 

French  Polytechnic,  xvii,  28;  xxii,  909. 

Special  Secondary,  xxiii,  967:  xxiv.  840. 
Mathematical  Reasoning,  xxiii,  114,  967. 
Mother.  C..  Tribute  to  E/.ekiel  Cheever,  xvii,  20. 

Essays  to  do  Good.  I.  S. 
Mather,  Increase,  Memoir,  I.  S. 
Mather,  R.,  Catechism,  xvi,  108. 
Mathews,  J.  D.,  Schools  of  Kentucky,  v,  874. 
Matile,  George,  American  Ethnology,  xvii.  424. 
Matriculation,  Ancient  and  Modern,  xix.  902 ;  xxiii, 
.Maturity  Examination-  Classical,  xxii.  M3.      [840. 

Real  School,  xvii.  829:  xix,  902. 
Maury,  James.  Jefl'erson's  Teacher,  I.  S. 
Maxcy.  V.,  Public  Lands  for  Schools,  1821,  v,  874. 
May,  S.  J.,  School  Reminiscences,  xvii,  24;  xxiii, 
829;  I  S. 

Canterbury  School  for  Colored  Girls,  xix,  902. 

Life  and  Ed.  Views  of  Cyrus  Pierce,  xvii,  24. 
Mayhew,  Ira.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  24. 

Popular  Education-  Contents,  i,  773. 
Maykirch,  Fellenberg's  Industrial  School,  xxi,  777. 
Maynooth  College,  lli-tory,  1.8. 
McCarty,  H.  1).,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvi,  3£8. 
M'Co«h*  .1..  Educational  Views.  I.  S. 
McCrie,  Life  of  Andrew  Melville,  xxiv,  814. 

University  of  St.  Andrew,  xxiv.  840.          [I.  S. 
McDonongh,  J.,  Memoir  and  Benefaction,  v,  874; 
McEligott,  J.  N..  Debating,  xvii.  24. 
McGilf-and  Mi-Gill  College,  xvii.  39. 
McGraw,  J..  Benefaction  to  Cornell,  Un.,  S.  V.  537. 
McJilton,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiv,  821 ;  I.  S. 
McKeen,  C.,  Female  Education,  v,  875. 
McKeen,  Joseph,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
McMynn,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
MrNeely.  C..  Normal  School,  xvii.  796. 
Means,  J.,  Memoir,  v,  875. 

Mechanics'  Institutes,  x,  332:  xvii,  31,  33;  xxii,  909. 
Mechanics.  Subject  and  Method  of  Study,  xxii; 

Schools  of,  xxi,  8(5. 

Mechanical  Paradox — Gyroscope,  v,  875. 
Mecklenburg-Schwerin,"xviii.  815. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii.  31  :  xxii,  9C9. 
Mecklenbmx'-Strelitz,  xvii,  815. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31 ;  xxii,  909. 
Medals  and  Prizes,  xvii,  29;  xix,  902. 
Medieval  School-books,  v.  875  ;  vi,  22,  54. 
Medieval  Univerfitii-     Savi-ny.  xxii,  273. 
Medici,  and  Italian  Culture.  \  if.  726. 
Medical  Science,  vi,  28;  xi.  228. 
Medicine- Faculty.    Departments,    and    Schools, 

xvii,  33;  xx.  772  ;  xxiv,  840;  S.  V.  566. 
Meinueir  of  I'aderborn,  xxiv,  353. 
Meierotto.  Method  of  Teachim.'  Latin,  xvii,  24. 

Dead  Laiiiruaire  must  not  crowd  out  the  Lhini:. 
Meinrad.  of  Rcichcnau,  xxiv,  543.  [vi,  610. 

Melancthon,  Philip.  Memoir,  iv,  741. 
Educational  Views,  xvii.  24. 
Plan  of  Studies  tor  Tlmringia,  xx.  773. 
Melville,  Andrew,  at  Glasgow ,  xxiv,  840. 


Memmini.'1'r.  C.  G.,  Schools  of  S.  Carolina,  xvii,  24. 
Memory,  Culture,  xvii. 829:  xxiii. 976;  xxiv, 840. 
Memori/in-.  v,  875;  xiii.  822;  xxiii,  113;  xxiv,  104. 
Mendicant  orders,  xxiv,  840. 
Mental  Activity.  Excessive,  xi.  491. 
Mental  Philosophy,  xvii.  28.  829. 
Mercantile  Library  Associations — History.  I.  S. 
M ercan  tile  Marine,  Schools  tor— Barnard,  xxliJ,  927. 
Merit-roll  at  West  Point,  xxiii,  738. 
1  Merton,  Walter  de.  and  Merton  College,  I.  S. 
Methods  of  Instruction,  Essays  on,  xiii,  8(j9;  xvii, 

28;  xxii.  967. 

Methodists  in  U.  S.— Schools  and  Colleges,  S.V.625. 
Met  tray.  Agricultural  Reform  Colony,  v,  875:  xvii, 

34  ;  xxi,  553  :  xxiii,  909 :  xxiv,  840. 
Met/,  Military  School,  xxiii,  238.  949. 
Mexico,  v,  875;  xviii,  815. 
Michigan.  Statistics.  &c.,  xvii.  32;  xviii,  815. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  110. 

Common  School?,  v.  875;  xxiv,  840;  8.  V. 

University — Historical  Dcvcli pment,  I.  S. 

Normal  School.  Institutes,  xviii.  210:  S.  V.  578. 

Academies  and  Seminaries,  v,  875  ;  S.  V.  572. 

Colleges  and  University,  xviii,  198,  208. 

Agricultural  College.  S.  V.  266.  570. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvii.  36. 

Colored  Children  and  Schools,  xix,  357. 

Reform  School.  S.  V.  582. 

Charitable  Institutions,  xviii,  380. 
Middle  Ages,  Misconceptions  of,  vii,  413. 
Middlebury  College,  v,  875. 
Middleton*  Conyers,  Bentley  Controversy,  I.  S. 
Middlesex  County  Association  in  1198,  xvii,  36. 
i  Milan,  v,  ,s75  :  xxi,  771 
Mildmay.  and  Emanuel  College,  v.  875. 
Military  Drill  in  Civil  Schools,  xxiii,  967. 
Military  Schools  and  Education,  xvii,  34. 

Austria,  xvii.  34  :  xxiii,  955 :  Saxony,  xxiii.  969 ; 

Bavaria, xxiii. 31 7;  Prussia;  xii.277:  xxiii, 963. 

France,  xxiii,  6.V>:    liu>sia.  xxiv,  242;  Great 

Britain,    xxiii,    !M5:    Switzerland,    xvii,    34; 

Holland,  xvii.  34  ;  United  States,  xxiii,  715. 
Military  Marches  and  Excursions,  xiii,  869. 
Military  Mu>ie.  School  of.  xxiii, 626. 
MillersVille,  Normal  School,  xv.  223;  xvii.  752. 
Mill.  John  S..  University  Education,  xxiii,  967. 

Lessons  from  Autobiography,  I.  S. 
Mills.  Caleb,  Schools  of  Indiana"  v,  875;  xxiv,  248. 
Milton,  John,  Memoir,  ii,  61,  875. 

Home,  School,  and  College  Training,  xvii,  24. 

Tractate  on  Education,  xxii,  181. 
Milwaukee,  School  Svstem,  xxiv,  902. 

Female  College.  I.  S. 
Mind  and  Law.  xiii.  869. 
Mind.  Science  and  Training  of,  xvii,  28;  xxii.  907; 

xxiii.  967:  xxiv.  840. 

Mines  and  Milling.  Schools  for.  v,  875;  xxi,  806. 
Miner.  Miss  Myrtella.  Normal  School,  xix,  992. 
Miner,  T.,  Teacher,  and  Physician,  xvii.  611. 
Ministers  and  Elders.  Duties  as  to  Schools,  v,  872. 
i  Ministers,  and  New  En-land  Colleires,  xiv,  368. 
Ministry  of  Public  In-truction   and  State  Super 
vision,  xx.  773;  I.  S.;  Austria,  xvii.  8o7;  Rus 
sia,  xx,  464;  Bavaria,  xvii,  31 ;  Saxony,  xx, 
f>51 ;  France,  xx,  773;  Spain,  xxiv,  970:"Great 
Britain,  xxiv.  693:  Turkey,  xx.26;  Italv,  xx, 
146;  Switzerland,  51 :  Prussia,  xvii,  TH, 
Minnesota,  xvii,  32;  xviii,  815. 

Constitutional  Pn>vi>ion.  xvii.  119. 

Schools  and  Land  Grants,  v.  875;  xxiv.  840. 

Normal  School  System,  xvii,  761 ;  S.  V.  578. 

State  Teachers1  Association,  xvii.  36. 

University,  and  College  of  Agriculture,  8.V.  570. 
Minor  Moral-'.  \.  ffffi. 

Minot.  Mrs..  Drawing  in  Boston  in  1840,  xxiv,  277. 
Minutes  of  Committee  of  Council,  v,  875. 
Mix  ellaneous  Reading,  xvi.  222. 
Mi-i-ippi.  Statistic-,  xvii,  31.  829 :  xviii.  815. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii.  106.  xxiv,  718. 

Land  Grants  and  Common  Schools,  xxiv,  840. 

State  University,  and  Colleges,  v,  875 ;  S.V.  570. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


69 


Agricultural  College,  S.  V.  570. 

Freedmen  and  Colored  Children,  xix,  902. 
Missouri,  Statistics,  &c.,  xvii,  31  ;  xxiii,  815. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  108. 

Common  Schools,  v,  875 ;  xxiv,  840. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  875  ;  xviii,  198 ; 

University  and  College  of  Agriculture,  S.V.  570. 

Colored  and  Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  902. 

St.  Louis  Public  Schools,  v,  885  ;  xix,  121. 
Mitlbrd,  J.,  on  Milton's  Tractate,  v,  875. 
Mixed  Schools— as  to  Sex,  xix,  902. 
Mixed  Schools — as  to  Sects,  Holland,  xx,  713. 

Ireland,  iv,  360 ;  xi,  154 ;  Scotland,  xxii,  486. 
Mobile,  Public  Schools,  xix,  902. 
Model,  Lodging-house,  v,  875. 
Model  Schools,  v,  876 ;  xiii,  822. 
Modeling,  Schools  for,  xxi,  805. 
Modena  University,  xx,  773.  [967. 

Modern  Department  in  Classical  Schools,   xxiii, 
Modern  Greek  Language,  v,  876. 
Modern  Languages,  xix,  902;  xx,  773;  xxii,  909; 

xxiii,  967  ;  xxiv,  840. 

Modern  Sciences,  v,  884;  xvii,  29;  xxiii,  969. 
Moglin  Timer's  Institute  of  Agriculture,  xxi,  206. 
Mohammedans,  xviii,  816;  xx,  2. 
Molinetix,  E.  L.,  Military  Drill  in  Schools, xxiii,  967. 
Moltke,  and  Prussian  Staff,  xxiii,  967. 
Monasteries  and  Schools,  xxiv,  840. 
Monastic  Orders,  and  the  Universities,  I.  S. 
Money,  Allowance  to  Students,  xxiii,  839,  861. 
Money,  its  Acquisition  and  Management,  xxiii,  967. 
Monitorial  System  of  Organization,  v,  109 ;  xvi,  529. 

Instruction,  xvii,  28.  [563. 

Monson  Academy,  Teachers  and  Benefactors,  xvii, 
Montalembert,  and  Monasticism,  xxiv,  840. 

Liberty  of  Instruction,  I.  S. 
Montaigne,  Memoir,  I.  S. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  28. 

Mon tern  at  Eaton,  xxiv,  434.  [840. 

Montesquieu — Education  and  Governments,  xxiv, 
Monte  Cassino,  and  Benedict's  Rule,  xxiv,  840. 
Montgomery,  E.,  Schools  in  Delaware,  xvii,  187. 
Montpellier  University,  xxiii,  317. 
Montrose  Latin  School,  xxii,  908. 
Montserrat,  School,  xxiv,  779.  [577 ;  I.  S. 

Montucci,  and  Demogeot,  on  English  Schools,  xxii, 
Moody,  Master  of  Dummer  School,  xvi,  410. 
Moor's  Indian  Charity  School,  v,  876;  S.  V.  353. 
Moral  Character,  Chief  Aim  of  School  Ed.,  xvi,  324. 
Moral  and  Religious  Education,  v,  876 ;  xvii,  28. 
Morals  and  Moral  Ed.,  v,  876;  xvii,  28;  xiii,  868. 
Moravians,  v.  876 :  xx,  597 ;  xxiv,  840. 
More,  Hannah,  Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  xvii,  24. 

Education  of  his  Children,  xxiii,  967. 
Morgan,  G.,  Plan  of  Normal  School,  1836,  xiv,  722. 
Morhof,  D.  G.,  Study  of  German  Poetry,  ix,  436. 
Mormons,  or  Latter-day  Saints,  Schools,  S.  V. 
Morning.  Beauty,  Health,  and  Religion  of,  v,  876. 
Mortifications,  Endowments  in  Scotland,  I.S. 
Moscow,  Schools  and  University,  xx,  510. 

Museums  of  Art  and  Science,  xxi,  805. 
Mosely,  S.,  Training  Colleges  of  England,  xvii,  30. 
Mosherosch,  Educational  Views,  xiii,  869. 
Mosques,  Schools  attached  to,  xx,  7. 
Mother's  Method,  v,  876 ;  How  Gertrude  Teaches 

her  Children,  xix,  613; 
Mother  Tongue,  v,  876;  x,  766;  xvii,  28. 

Sacrificed  to  Acquisition  of  a  Dead,  vi,  610. 
Motives  to  Study,  xiii,  518;  xvii,  28;  xix,  580. 

Teacher's  Motives,  xiv,  277. 
Mott's  Ventilating  Stove,  xvi,  590. 

Revolving  Chair,  x,  563. 

Mount  Holyoke  Sem.,  History  and  Results,  x,  670. 
Moulder,  A.  J.,  Schools  of  California,  xvii,  627. 

Mowry,  W.  A.,  Memoir,  xiv,  592. 
Mulcaster,  R.,  Memoir,  xxiv,  179. 

Elementarie,  and  Positions,  xxiv,  829. 

College  for  Teachers,  xxiv,  184. 
Mullhouse,  Schools  of  Industrial  Art.  xxi,  773. 
Multiplication  is  vexation,  &c.,  xxiv,  192 ;  xvii,  556. 


Munich,  School  System,  v,  876;  xix,  902. 

University,  xix,  500 ;  xx,  773 ;  xxi,  805. 

Academy  of  Fine  Art,  xxi,  119. 

Polytechnicum,  xxi,  120. 

Munson,  Israel,  PMucational  Benefactions,  x,  698 ; 
Munster  University  and  Schools,  xix,  902. 
Murmellius,  v,  876. 

Murphy,  J.  N.,  Terra  Incognita,  xxiv,  840;  J.  S. 
Muscular  Exercise,  for  Teachers,  xvi,  742. 
Museums  of  Industrial  Arts,  xxi,  805. 
Museums  of  Natural  Science,  v,  876;  xxii,  907. 
Music  in  Schools,  v,  876 ;  xvii,  28,  829,  xix,  902 ;  xx, 

773;  xxiii,  967;  xxiv,  840. 
Music,  in  School  Programmes,  xx,  773 ;  xxii,  704, 

720,  792. 

Music,  Schools  of,  xxi,  805 ;  xxii,  856. 
Music,  University  Study  and  Degrees,  I.  S. 
Music  in  American  Schools,  iv,  143 ;  I.  S. 
Musselmau's  Schools,  xx,  7, 12. 

Nagali,  H.  G.,  Pestalozzian  Method  in  Music,  vii, 

Influence  on  American  Music,  v,  142.          [300. 
Nagle,  Honora,  Memoir  and  Labors  for  Schools,  I.S. 

Presentation  Sisters,  and  Schools  for  the  Poor, 
Nantucket,  Public  Schools,  v,  876.  [I.  S. 

Naples,  University,  xx,  305,  773. 

College  of  Music,  xxi,  786. 

Schwabe— Industrial  Normal  School,  I.  S. 
Napoleon,  Ideas  of  Public  Instruction,  xx,  259; 

xxii,  579;  773;  xxi,  451. 
Nashville,  Public  Schools,  xix,  903.  [788. 

University — Dr.  Lindsley's  Labors,  vii,  17,  42, 
Nassau  Hall,  College,  New  Jersey,  xxiv,  148;  I.  S. 

Dr.  M'Cosh's  Presidency,  I.  S. 
Nassau,  Duchy,  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31. 

Technical  Schools,  xxi,  805. 
Natal,  Statistics,  xviii,  816. 
Natchez,  Public  Schools,  xix,  903. 
Nat  Turner's  Insurrection,  Influence,  xix,  903. 
Nation,  Washington's  use  of  the  Term,  xix,  903. 
Nations,  in  University  Organization,  vi,  18;  xxii, 

Procurator,  vi,  18;  [311. 

National  Census,  Earliest  Recognition  of  Schools 

in  1840,  xvii,  31 ;  xix,  837.  [171. 

1840 — Educational  Returns  and  Illiteracy,  xxiv, 

1850 — Schools,  Academies,  Colleges,  xvii,  31. 

1860— Schools,  Academies,  and  Coll.,  S.  V.  121. 

1870— Ed.  Statistics  and  Illiteracy,  xxiv,  849. 
National  Associations  for  Educational  Purposes, 

v.  857;  xv,  824;  xvii,  35,  840;  xix,  889,  903. 
National  Convention,  French  Schools,  xx,  773. 
National  Conventions,  Educational,  xvii,  35. 
National  Convention  of  Superintendents,  xvi,  389. 

Mann's  Addresses,  1849,  xxiv,  330. 
National  Education  in  Europe,  Contents,  i,  747. 
National  Education,  Agencies  of,  I.  S. 

Systems,  xvii,  31 : 

1.  Elementary,  xvii.  31;  xx,  770. 

2.  Secondary,  xvii,  32;  xx,  775. 

3.  Superior,  xvii,  33;  xxiv,  11. 

4.  Industrial,  xvii,  33;  xxi,  17; 

5.  Military,  xvii,  34;  xxiii,  967. 

6.  Reformatory,  xvii,  34;  xxii,  589. 

I  National  Gallery  of  Portraits,  England,  xxii,  909. 

National  Institutions  at  Washington,  xix,  I.  S. 
|  National  Pedagogy— Principles  and  Methods. 
American — Content-,  xxiii,  973,  977. 
English— Contents,  xxii,  417;  xxiii,  973. 
German— Contents,  xxiii,  983. 
French — Contents,  xxiii,  973. 
Swiss— Contents,  xxiii,  973. 

National  Systems— Special  Treatises,  xxiii,  973. 
I.  Elementary,  xvii,  31. 
II.  Secondary;  xvii.  32. 

III.  Superior,  xvii,  33;  xxiv, 

IV.  Special  and  Professional,  S.  V.  474. 

1.  Science  and  Industry,  xvii,  33;  xxi,  801. 

2.  Science  and  War,  xvii.  34;  xxiii,  949. 

3.  Teaching,  xvii,  30;  830.  [900. 

4.  Preventive  and  Reformatory,  xvii.  34:  xxii, 

5.  Deaf  Mutes,  Blind,  xvii,  34 ;  S.V.  491,  584. 


70 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


6.  Female*,  xvii,  35;  8.  V.  456.  572. 
V.     Supplementary,  Self  and  Home,  xvii,  35. 
Studies  and  Conduct— Contents,  xxiii,  974. 

Library  of— Content*,  I.  S. 
National  Land-grants  fur  Education,  xxiv,841 ;  S.V. 
National  Academy  of  Design,  S.  V. 
National  Academies,  xxiii,  721.  805. 
National  I'niversity — Washington's  recommenda 
tion*,  xvii,  41— Barlow,  Adam*,  and  other 
authorities',  I.  S. 
National  Government  and  Education,  xvii.  31,  41. 

Land  Grants  for  Education  Purpose?,  xxiv,  840. 

School  at  West  Point,  xvii,  34. 

Annapolis,  xxiii.  967. 

Institutions  at  Washington,  xix,  139. 

Department  of  Education,  xvii.  190. 

Bureau  in  Department  of  Interior,  S.  V.  311. 

Education  of  Indians,  486  :  I.  S. ;  S.  V. ;  iv,  665. 

District  of  Columbia,  xix.  5. 

Civil  Service— Educational  Element,  xxiii.  9<52, 

I.  S. 
National  Holidays,  xix,  903;  xx,  772;  xxii,  655. 

Prussian  Rule,  xvi,  398. 

National  School  of  Sciences,  Barnard,  xix,  144. 
National  Society,  England,  x.  329,  481,  499. 

Methods  of  Central  Model  School,  x,  501. 

National  Schools,  in  1875,  I.  S. 
Native  Language,  how  taught,  v,  876 ;  xi,  457. 

Grammar  of,  when  to  be  Studied,  xi,  457. 
Nature,  v,  876 ;  xx,  909. 
Nature,  Sciences  of,  xvii,  28;  xix,  603;  xxii,  909; 

xxiii.  967. 

Natural  Bent,  or  Aptitude,  iv,  461 ;  xi.  345.       [941. 
Natural  History,  v,  876;  xvii,  28;  xxiii.  967;  xxiv, 
Natural  Philosophy,  v,  876;  xxiii,  967:  xxiv,  841. 
Natural  Consequences,  xvii,  28;  xi,  619. 
Natural  Philosophy,  xvii,  23;  xxiii,  967.  xxiv,  840. 
Natural  Science,  x'vii,  28;  xxiii,  967,  970. 
Natural  Scenery,  xxiii,  967. 

Nautical  Schools,  xvii.  34;  xxi,  909.  [431. 

Naval  Schools,  for  War,  xvii,  34;  xxiii,  967:  xxiv, 
Naval  Architecture,  xxi.  805;  xxii.  909;  xxiii,  967. 
Naval  Engineers,  xxi,  805;  xxiii,  967. 
Navigation  Schools  for  Commerce,  xv,  44  ;  xxi,  805. 
Nautical  and   Navigation   Schools,  xvii,  34;   xix, 

903;  xxiii,  967;  xxiv,  841. 
Neander,  M.,  Educational  Labors,  xvii,  24. 
Nebraska  in  1868,  xviii,  816;  in  1874,  S.  V.  a 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  124. 

Common  Schools,  xvii,  830;  xxiv,  840. 

Normal  School,  S.  V.  578. 

Colleges,  S.  V.  552. 
Neckar.  Madame,  x,  766  ;  xxiii.  967. 
Needle  Work  in  English  Schools,  x,  766;  xix,  903; 
xxiv,  840;  xx,  773;  xxi,  805;  xx,  773.      [903. 
Needle  Work  in  Schools,  v,  876;   xvii,   830;  xix, 
Neft',  Joseph,  Earliest  Pestalo/zian  in  U.  S.  xii,  734. 
Ne-lected  Education.  Remedies  for,  xxiii,  193. 
Neglected  Children.  Schools  for,  xx,  773. 
Neirro.  African,  and  Colored  Schools,  xix,  201,  301. 

Historical  Development,  I.  S. 
New  York  in  1704,  xix.  861. 
South  Carolina  in  1713.  S.  V.  .358. 
Philadelphia  in  1750,  xix,  374. 
Negro,  Legal  Status  in  the  Several  States,  xix,  301. 

Freedmen  and  Colored  School*,  xix,  893. 
Neo-Platonist  and  Eclectics,  xxiv,  467. 
Nervous  System,  as  affected  by  Teaching,  I.  S. 
Netherlands,  xviii,  816. 
NVncli.-iiel,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  773. 

Colleges,  Academies,  &c.,  xx,  93. 

Industrial  School  for  Girls,  xxi,  742. 
Nevada,  xviii,  816. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  123. 

Klrim -n  tarv  I  n-i  ruction,  xxiv,  840;  S.V. 

Normal  School.  S.  V. 

Common  Schools,  xxiv.  840. 
New  Bedford  Public  Schools,  xix,  903. 
New  Britain  State  Normal  School,  x,  49. 
New  Brunswick,  v,  876;  xviii,  584. 
New  Brunswick  College,  N.  J.,  xxiv. 


New  England,  Early  Free  Schools,  xvii,  32,  149; 
S.  V.  345. 

Common  Schools,  iv,  863;  xvii,  31 ;  xxiv,  223. 

Academies,  xvi,  403. 

l-'.-mali-  ( 'olle-i's  and  Seminaries,  S.  V.  455. 

Town,  Grammar  Schools,  xvii,  32  ;  S.  V.  347. 

<  '..lieges,  v.  876;  xiv,  367;  S.  V.  471,  947. 

Professional  Schools,  xviii,  204;  S.  V.  477. 

Primer  and  School  Books,  v,  339:  S.  V.  540. 

Educational  Societies,  xix,  903;  S.  V.     . 
New  and  Old— Conflict,  xix.  !*n:;.  [830. 

New  Discovery  of  the  Old  Art  of  Teaching,  xvii, 
New  Gymnastics-  Lewis,  xxii.  28. 
New  Haven  Public  Schools,  xvii,  31 ;  xix,  903. 

Earlv  Attention  to  Schools — Davenport,  xi,877. 

School  Code  of  1655— Hopkins  School,  iv,  865. 

Yale  College— History,  &c.,  xvii,  33 ;  xxiv,  840. 
New  Hampshire,  xviii,  816  ;  v,  876. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  90.  [S.  V. 

Historical  Data  of  Schools,  xvii,  32;  xxiv,  840, 

Common  School  System  in  1873,  xxiv,  84 ;  S.V.1 

State  Teachers'  Association,  xvii,  36. 

Academies,  High  Schools,  &c.,  S.  V.» 

Superior  Instruction,  and  Professional,  S.  V. 
New  Jersey,  xvii.  32  ;  v,  877;  xviii,  817. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  92. 

Elementary  Instruction,  xxiv.  840.        [30.  830. 

Training  and  Improvement  of  Teachers,  xvii, 

Legal  Status  of  the  Negro,  xix,  903. 

Common  Schools,  xxiv,  290. 

Academies  and  Colleges  xxiv.  840. 

Normal  Schools  and  Insts..  v,  877;  xvii,  30,  830. 

State  Teachers1  Associations,  xvi,  729. 
New  London,  Public  Schools,  v,  877. 
New  Mexico,  v,  877;  xviii,  817. 
New  Orleans,  Public  Schools,  xix,  903;  v,  8TT. 
New  South  Wales,  xviii,  817. 
New  Testament,  xxiii.  967. 
New  York,  Historical  Data,  v,  877;  xviii,  817. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii.  92. 

Elementary  Schools,  v,  877;  xxiv.  840. 

Academies  and  High  Schools   xvii,  32. 

Colleges  and  Universities,  xvii.  33:  xxiv.  840. 

Special  and  Professional  Schools,  xvii,  33. 

Agriculture  and  Mechanical  Arts,  S.V.  189,253. 

Libraries.  S.  V.  :>us.  .vc,.  ;,v<. 

Normal  Schools,  xvii,  30.  830;  S.  V.  578. 

School  Architecture,  xxiv,  841. 

Teachers  Associations,  xv,  831 ;  xvii,  36. 
New  York  City,  Public  Schools,  v,  877 ;  xix,  903. 

Public  School  Society,  x,  748. 

High  School  Society,  viii,  333. 

City  College,  xix,  519. 

Society  of  Teachers,  1811,  xv.  806, 

Girls'  High  School -Normal  College,  xxiv,  655. 

Educational   Institutions,  I.  S. 

School  Architecture,  v,  877;  xvii,  36;  xxiv,  644. 
New  Zealand,  xviii,  817. 
Newark  Public  Schools,  xix,  903. 
Newburyport,  Putnam  Free  School,  v,  881. 

Contested  Riirht  to  tax  for  Girls  High  School, 
New  Castle.  School  of  Science.  I.  S.  [I.  S. 

Newell,  M.  A.,  Memoir,  xvii,  778;  I.  S. 
Newfoundland,  v,  877. 
Newman,  J.  II.,  Univer-ities.  xxiv,  840;  Domestic 

Life  of  Universities,  410;  University  Life  at 

Athens,  57 :  Protagoras  at  Athens,  514 ;  Greek 

Influence    in    Alexandria,  33;    University  of 

Athens— Alexandria,  xxiv,  840;  English  Bible, 

xxiii,  274 ;  ( harlemagne,  xxiv,  44. 
Newport,  Public  Schools,  xix,  903. 

School  Architecture,  xxiii,  410. 

Redwood  Library,  S.  V.  588. 

Townsend  Popular  Library.  S.  V. 
Newspaper.  The  Popular  Educator,  v,  877;  S.V.  354. 
Newton,  Richard,  Hart  Hall.  I.  8. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  xvii  37  :  I.  S. 
Nibcliiniren.  Lay  of,  vii.  417. 
Nicaragua,  v,  877;  xviii.  817. 
NirholN.  <;..  Schools  in  Holland,  xiv,  685,  692. 
Nicole,  Pierre,  Port  Royal  Logic,  1.  S. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


71 


Ni coloring,  xvii,  830. 

Niebuhr,  G.  B.,  Study  of  Philology,  xxiii,  169. 
Niederer,  v,  877.  [369. 

Niemeycr,  Ed.Views,  viii,  685;  x,  766  ;  xvii,  24;  xx, 
Nieuven-huysen,  John,  Holland  Schools,  xvii,  24. 
Night  Schools,  xix,  903 :  xxii,  909.    " 
Nightingale,  Florence,  Memorial  Fund,  xxiii,  967: 

School  for  Nurses,  xxiii,  967.  [xvii,  389. 

Niles,  John  M.,  Opposition  to  School  Improvement, 
Nile*?,  Master  Sands,  Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  830. 
Niles,  Public  Schools,  xix,  903. 
Nisseu,  H.,  Public  Schools  of  Norway,  xvii,  24. 
Noltenius,  Religious  Teacher  of  Frederick  II,  I.  S. 
Nomenclature  of  Schools  and  Education,  I.  S. 
Non-Attendance  at  School,  xvii,  27;  xx,  773;  I.  S. 
Non-Conformists,  Relations  to  Education,  I.  S. 
Non  Malta  seel  Multum,  xxiii,  967. 
Non-Reading  Men  in  Universities,  I.  S. 
Nonne,  Ludwig.  xx,  606. 
Norma  and  Normal,  Defined,  xiii,  753, 757 ;  xvii,  401. 

Earliest  in  Use  France,  1794,  xxii,  657. 

Austria,  1771. 
Normal  Schools,  Described,  v,  877 ;  xv,  831 ;  xvii, 

American,  xvii,  30,  830 ;  v,  877.       [30,  401,  797. 

State  Institutions,  xvii,  796,  830. 

City  Institutions,  xvii,  830.  [841. 

European,  xix,  903;  xx,  773;  xxii,  909;  xxiv, 

Buildings,  xvii,  830. 

Boarding  Arrangements,  xvii,  737. 

Statistics,  xviii,  210;  S.  V.  I.  578. 

Treatise— Contents,  i,  753;  I.  S.  753. 
Normal  Training  Schools,  Classified,  xix,  903. 
Northern  Barbarians,  Incursions,  xxiv,  841, 
North  Carolina,  v,  273;  xvii.  32. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  99;  xxiv,  719. 

Elementary,  v,  878;  xxiv,  841. 

Schools  as  they  were,  xvi,  109. 

Academies  and  Colleges  about  1800,  xxiv,  841. 

Normal,  S.  V.  578. 

Legal  Status  of  the  Negro,  xix,  841. 

Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  301. 

Associations  and  Conventions,  xvii,  36.  * 
North,  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39;  I.  S. 
North,  S.  J.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  vi,  104. 
Northend,  C.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Teacher  and  Parent — Contents,  i,  773. 
Northrop,  B.  G.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39,  799. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  830;  I.  S. 

Village  Improvements — New  Milford,  I.  S. 
Norton,  John  P.,  v,  878. 

Norton,  John  T.,  Schools  of  Connecticut,  xxiii,  727. 
Norway,  Statistics,  xviii,  817;  xxi,  805. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  31;  xxiii,  967. 

University,  xx,  706. 

Technical  Schools,  xxi,  805. 

Code  of  1860,  xxiii,  632. 
Norwich,  Public  Schools,  ii,  753;  xix,  203. 

Free  Academy — Inauguration,  v,  878. 
Norwich  (Vt.)  Military  Academy,  xxiii,  857. 

University,  xxiii,  861. 
Note  Book,  Uses  of,  xxiii,  968. 
Notes  of  Lessons  on  Objects,  x,  766. 
Notker,  of  St.  Gall,  xxiv,  542,  841. 
Nott,  Eliphalet,  v,  878 ;  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  S. 
Nova  Scotia,  v,  878. 
Novitiate,  xxiv,  841. 

Number,  Early  Lessons  in,  y,  878;  xvii,  28. 
Numbers,  Sympathy  of,  xxiii,  968. 
Nuns,  Devoted  to  Teaching  and  Works  of  Mercy, 

Presentation  Order— Ireland,  I.  S.         [ii,  442. 

Daughters  of  the  Cross— Belgium,  I.  S. 

Visitation  Order,  1610— France,  ii,  442. 

Ursulines,  1537,  ii,  442;  I.  S. 

Sacred  Heart,  ii,  442;  I.  S. 
Nuremberg,  Public  Schools,  xix,  592. 

Technical  Schools,  v,  878;  xxi,  805. 
Nurlingen,  Normal  School,  xx,  691. 
Nurses,  Training  School  for,  xxiii,  968. 
Nursery-Maids  for  Children,  x,  257. 

Sisters  of  Charity, 

Sisters  of  Mercy, 


Oak,  in  College  Vocabulary,  I.  S. 
Oaths  for  College  Offices— Yale,  I.  S. 
Oaths,  Vulgarity  of,  xix,  905;  xxiii,  70,  917. ! 
Obedience,  xxiii,  698 ;  xxiv,  530. 
Obedience,  Monastic  Rule,  xxiv,  530. 

Laws  of  Nature,  xiii,  869.  [I.  8. 

Ober-Ammergau,  Lessons  from  the  Passion  Pay, 
Oberlin,  Town  and  University,  xvii,  400;  xix,  904. 
Oberlin,  Practical  Educator,  v,  878;  1.  S. 
Obituaries,  Educators,  v,  878;  xviii,  818;  S.  V. 
Object  Lessons  and  Teaching,  xvii,  28 ;  xix,  904 ; 

xx,  773;  xxii,  909  ;  xxiv,  841. 
Oblate  Sisters  of  Providence,  v,  878;  xix,  904. 

Academies  for  Colored  Girls,  1829,  xix,  205. 
Obligatory,  and  Optional  Studies,  xvii,  147. 

School  Attendance,  xx,  773;  xxii,  909;  xxiii,  698. 
Observatory,  First,  v,  878;  xx,  675. 

National — J.  Q,.  Adams'  Labors  for, 

American,  Historical  Development. 
Observation,  Faculty  and  Culture,  v,  878;  xix,  904; 

xxii,  909. 

Observatores  Morum,  Street  Monitors,  xx,  546. 
Obstinacy,  xii,  734;  xiii,  869;  xxiii,  698. 
Ob-Walden,  Half-Canton,  Public  Schools,  xx,  123. 
Occupation,  Schtfol  of,  S.  V.  392,  507. 
Occupations,  Study  of,  xix,  904. 

Education  for,  xxiii,  869.  [841. 

Octagon,  Theological  School  of  Constantino,  xxiv, 
Occum,  Samson,  Indian  Preacher,  S.  V.  486. 
Odericus,  Vitalis,  xxiv,  841. 
Odessa,  University,  xx,  773. 
Odo  or  Oudart,  xxiv,  358. 

CEconomi,  v,  878.  [409. 

Oelinger,  A.,  Instruction  in  High  German,  xi,  406, 

Sturm's  Endorsement  of  Modern   Language 

Study,  408. 
Officers,  Govermental.  xviii,  818. 

Military,  Special  Training  for,  xxiii,  968. 
Officers,  New  England  Town  School,  Hist.,  S.  V. 
Official  Exposition  of  Schools,  Earliest,  v,  878. 

New  York,  1812,  xxiv,  293. 

Maine,  1825,  xxiv,  258. 

Massachusetts,  1827.  xxiv,  709. 

Connecticut,  1837,  235. 

Ohio,  School  Statistics,  &c.,  v,  878 ;  xvii,  31,  830; 
xviii,  818;  xix,  401. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  101. 

National  Land-grants,  I.  S. 

Elementary,  xvii,  31 ;  xxiv,  841. 

Secondary,  xvii,  32. 

Superior,  xvii,  33,  401,  S.  V.  578. 

Special  and  Professional,  S.  V.  584. 

Female  Colleges,  xiii,  267;  S.  V.  574. 

Agricultural  and  Mechanic  Arts,  S.  V.  194. 

Reformatory,  S.  V.  582. 

Legal  Status  and  Schools  for  Blacks,  xix,  904. 

Teachers  Associations,  xvii,  30,  36,  850 ;  S.  V. 
Olcott,  T.  B.,  v,  878.  [578. 

Old  and  New,  in  Schools,  xix,  904;  I.  S. 

Universities,  German,  vi,  34. 

American  Colleges— See  Barnard,  Eliot,  Marsh, 

Porter,  Wayland,  White. 
Old  and  Young  in  Sparta,  i,  589 ;  xiv,  618. 
Old-fashioned  Christian  Woman— Walker,  I.  S. 
Old  Testament  Pedagogy,  v,  869;  I.  S. 
Olderrburg  Statistics,  xviii,  819;  xxi,  176. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  519. 
Oldham,  Bishop  of  Manchester,  1525,  xxiv,  435. 
Oldham,  School  of  Science,  xxii,  909. 

Lyceum,  v,  878. 
Oliver,  Henry  K.,  ii,  24,  250;  xiv,  126;  Memoir, 

Schools  as  they  were,  I.  S. 
Olivier,  v,  878. 
Olmsted,  Denison,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Ideal  of  a  Teacher  in  President  Dwight,  xvii,  24. 

Democratic  Tendencies  of  Science,  xvii,  24. 

Plan  of  Academy  for  Schoolmasters,  1816,  v,  124. 
Olmsted,  Hawley,  v,  878. 
Olmutz,  University,  v,  878. 
One  Session  a  Day,  xix,  904. 
Opening  Exercies,  xvii ;  xix,  904. 


72 


(.KNEKAL  IN'DEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Opponency.  and  Opponent-Univ.,  xxiv,  805;  1.8. 

Optional  Studies  in  Colleges,  xvii,  831;  xxii,  909. 

Opthne  -Senior  and  Junior. 

Oral  Examinations,  xvii,  479 :  xxii,  844. 

Onil  Lc-*ou>.  Specimen  Notes  for,  xvii,  28. 

Oral  Tea.-liiiig.  xvii.  28;   xxiv.  841. 

Orator.  Public.  University,  iii,  24. 

Oratorian-.  Congregation  founded  in  1551,  xx,  215. 

Oratorv.  School  of.  in  Boston  University, 

Oratory.  Training  for,  v,  878.  xxii,  698;  xxiv.  841. 

Orhiliiis,  v.  878;  xvii.  39.  [191. 

Orbis  Sensualium  Pictus,  Comenius'.  v.  878;    xvii, 

En-'li^h  Edition,  published  by  llnrtlih.  1644. 1.8. 

Hoole's  Preface  to  Edition  of  16:>8,  xvii.  192. 

Specimen  of  Lessons  and  Illustration.  1.  S. 
Orcutt.  Hiram.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
Order  and  Punctuality,  v,  878;  xxiii,  698;  xix,  905. 
Order  of  Rank  in  School,  xvii,  50(5. 

Russia,  xx,  774. 

Order  of  Studies— Hill,  vi,  319.  624. 
Ordinarius.  or  Class-teacher,  xv.  101. 
Ordinary  and  Extraordinary,  University,  xx,  294. 

Professors,  v,  878 ;  xxii.  909. 

Books,  in  Roman  and  Canon  Law.  xxii.  264. 
Organists.  Required  to  Teach  Schools,  xx,  391. 
Organization  of  Schools,  x.  (Mi. 
Organizer  of  Schools,  in  Irish  System,  xiii.  145. 

Itinerating  Agency  in  Rhode  Island,  xiv,  559. 
Oregon,  v.  878;  xviii,  819;  xviii,  818.  S.  V. 
Oriental  Languages,  xxiv,  841. 

Professorships— University,  ii,  97. 

American  Colleges — Historical. 
Origen.  School  at  Alexandria,  xxiv,  841. 
Original  Research,  xxiii,  484. 

One  Mark  of  University,  xvii.  598. 

German  Contributions  to,  ix,  119;  xx,  756. 

Absence  in  English  Universities,  xvii,  597. 

Recent  Efforts  to  Provide, 
Ornamental  Art,  xxi.  803:  xxii.  909. 
Orphans,  Adoption  into  Families,  xiv,  428. 
Orphans.  Institutions  for,  v,  878;  viii,  685:  xix,  904; 

xx,  773;  xxi.  804;  xxii.  909;  S.  V.  485. 
Orphans  of  Teachers,  xx,  777. 
Orthodox  Schools  in  Turkey,  xx,  9. 
Orton.  James,  Liberal  Education  of  Women.  I.  S. 
Osgood,  S.  G..  Dedicatory  Address,  v.  878;  xvii,  24. 
Oswego.  Training  School,  xvii.  713. 

Object  Teaching,  xvii,  3d.  881. 
Otfried  of  Weissemburg,  xxiv.  341. 
Othlonus  of  St.  Einmeran,  xxiv,  354. 
Otheric  of  Magdeburg,  xxiv,  303. 
Othol,  II,  III.,  xxiv.  841. 
Otis.  James.  Benefactions,  x,  694. 
Out-Buildings  and  Privies,  ix.  502.  639. 
Over-Education,  xxii.  909. 
Over-Government,  in  Germany,  xxii,  810. 

Restrictions  on  Teachers,  811. 

School  Officers,  xxii,  812. 
Overberg,  B..  Educational  Views,  xvii,  24. 

Normal  School,  xx.  773. 

Overseer.  Office  in  American  Colleges,  ix,  134. 
Over-stimulus  in  Mathematics,  viii,  179. 
Ovid,  Educational  Citations,  xxiii.  177. 
Owen,  Richard,  Natural  History,  xxiii.  476. 
Owen.  Robert,  Social  and  School  Reforms.  I.  S. 
Owen,  R.  Dale.  Reminiscence*  of  Hofwyl.  I.  S. 
Owen's  College.  Manchester,  xxii.  124;  1.  S. 

Report  on  German  Scientific  Schools,  I.  8. 
Oxcnstierna,  v.  878;  xxii.  700. 
Oxford,  Ohio.  Female  Seminary,  x.  679;  I.  S. 
Oxford  University,  v.  878;  xxiv.  841 :  I.  S. 

lli-tory  and  Condition  in  Is7.j,  I.  8. 

Traditionary  Period. 

Documentary  Period. 

Studies  and  Student  Life. 

Royal  Commi~~ion,  1850. 

Act  of  Parliament.  1854. 

Gradual  and  Malting  Reforms. 

Report  on  Resources  and  Income.  1873. 

Ct  Hi-tit  ut  ion — Studies — E  \auii  nations,  1873. 

Buildings  and  Institutions. 


Pace,  Leter  to  Colet.  xxiv,  841.       "* 

Packard.  F.  A..  Educational  Work.  xiv.  823;  I.  S. 

l'.trk,.r.  A-a.  LHiigSi  University,  s-  V.  554 ;  1.8. 

I'a.ker.  Mrs.  H.  L.,  Benefaction,  xvii,  35. 

Packer  Collegiate  Institute  for  (iirls,  xvii,  35. 

Paderborn.  Early  Christian  School,  xxiv.  353. 

Padua.  University,  xx,  194;  xxii.  296. 

IVda-o-ics.  rd,  890:  xx,  773. 

IVda^'inum,  xxiv,  841.  [968. 

Pairnn.  Views  of  Education.  vii.454;  xvii.  626;  xxiii, 

Page,  D.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  24. 

Processes  of  Instruction,  xvii,  24.  [770. 

Theory  and  Practice  of  reaching— Contents,  i, 
Pages,  Imperial  School  of,  xxiv.  841. 
Paget,  G.  E..  Physiology,  xxiii.  478. 
Paintings,  Historical,  xix,  904. 
Pains ville.  Female  Seminary,  x,  679;  I.  S. 
Palatine  School  of  Charlemairne.  xxiv,  841. 
Paley,  W.,  xvii,  24. 

Palermo,  University,  xx,  774.  [770. 

Palmer,  T.  H.,  Prize  Essay  on  Common  Schools,  i, 
Palmerston.  Lord.  ii.  713:"  iii,  26;  xvii,  24. 
Papal  Dominions,  xviii.  819. 

Educational  Institutions,  xvi,  698;  xx.  208. 
Paraguay,  xviii,  819. 

Pardee.  Benefactions,  I.  S.  [xxii,  909. 

Parents,  Dntv  of  Education,  xvii,  18,  830;  xx,  774 ; 

Interest  in  Schools,  xix,  904. 
Parents,  and  Teachers,  vii,  726 ;  xiv.  823. 
Paris.  Early  Schools,  xxii.  1800.  xx.  213;  xxiv,  841. 

Ancient  University,  Savigny.  xx,  309 ;  xxiv,  841 . 

Polytechnic,  xii,  51 :  xxiii.  968. 

Cent  nil  School  of  Arts.  ttc..  xxi,  806. 

Superior  Normal  School,  xx,  323. 

College  of  France,  xx,  774. 

Secondary  Instruction,  xx,  293. 

Professional  Schools,  xxii,  907. 
Parish,  A..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39.         [354. 
Parish  Libraries  in  Connecticut  before  1800,  S.  V., 
Parish  School  Boards,  xxiv,  841. 
Park.  Roswell.  School  of  Locality,  xvii.  24. 
Parker,  C.  S..  Greek  Language  in  Schools,  xxii,  465. 

Introduction  into  England,  xxiv,  433. 

Latin  Language,  xxiii.  465. 
Parker.  W.  H..  City  School  Statistics,  xix,  904. 
Parliamentary  Schools  in  Scotch  System,  xvii,  268. 
Parma.  University,  xx.  774. 
Parochial  Schools",  v,  879;  vii,  727:  xvii,  &30. 
Parochial  Schools  with  Advanced  Classes,  xvii, 268. 
Parr.  Samuel — Education,  xvii,  24. 
Particular  Schulen,  xx.  774.  [xvi.i-  24- 

Partridge,  Alden.  Memoir  and  Edncational  Views, 

Military  and  Literary  Institute,  xxiii,  85*5. 

Memorial  Adverse  to  National  School,  xxiii,  849. 
Pascal,  Blaise.  vi,  616:  I.  S. 
P.-i-ch asius.  of  Old  Corby,  xxiv.  841. 
Pastoret.  Mdlle.  de.  Infant  Schools,  xx,  291. 
Patak.  Comenius'  Labors  at.  xxii.  7<*>. 
Patriotism  and  Public  Schools,  xxi.  381.  [798. 

Patti>on.  Mark,  Prussian  Elementary  Schools,  xxii, 

Regulations  of  Normal  Bchoofe  of  l»:.l.  xxii, 
Paula,  and  Marcclla.  iii.  497:  xvii.  624.  [837. 

Paul's  Accidence,  viii.  269:  xvi.  670. 
Paulet.  Monitorial  Teaching,  xvii,  24. 
Pavia.  University,  xx.  774. 
Pay  of  Teachers,  v,  883;  xix.  403:  xxiv,  249. 
Payson,  T.,  Boston  Instructors.  1816.  xv.  533. 
Peace  and  War.  Education  lor.  xxiii.  698. 
IVahody.  Kli/.aheth  P..  Educational  Work,  I.  8. 
Peabody.  George.  Benefactions,  xvii,  24. 

Danvcrs'  Testimonial,  xvii,  37. 

Yale — Museum  of  Natural  Historv. 

Baltimore  Institute  and  Librarv.  iii,  228. 

Fund  for  Education  in  the  South.  I.  S. 

Benefactions  and  Result-  to  !>;•;.  I.  g. 
Peabody,  S.  II..  Memoir,  xiv.  395. 
Pearce.  B.  K...  Reformatory  for  Girls,  xvii.  24. 
Peasants'  High  School,  Denmark,  xx,  459. 
Pease.  Calvin.  Memoir,  xv.  631. 
Peck  Library,  in  Norwich  Free  Academy,  ii,  688. 
Peckham  Bi'rkbeck  School,  Econ.  Science,  x,  107. 


GENERAL  LNDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Pedagogic  Chairs  and  Seminaries  in  Universities, 
xvii,  484,  830 ;  xix,  904. 

Mathematics,  xxii,  848. 

History,  xvii,  486. 

Philology,  xvii,  484;  xxii,  849. 

Natural  Science,  xvii,  487. 

Theory  and  Practice,  Scotland,  I.  S.  528. 
Pedagogic  Year,  xvii,  489;  xix,  904. 
Pedagogium  of  Magdeburg,  xvii,  489. 
Pedagogy,  Library  of  National— Contents,  I.  S. 
Peel,  Sir  Robert,  xvii,  24. 
Peers,  B.  O.,  Memoir,  v,  879. 
Peet,  H.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  24. 

N.  Y.  Institution  for  Deaf-mutes,  iii,  347. 
Pelton,  J.  C.,  San  Francisco,  xvi,  626. 
Penalism  in  Universities,  vii.  42,  59 ;  ix,  85 ;  xx.  774. 
Pendola,  Padre,  School  of  Articulation  for  Deaf- 
mutes,  I.  S. 

Penitentiaries,  xxii,  909;  xviii,  819. 
Penmanship.  Various  Authorities,  iii,  26 ;  xvii,  28. 
Penn,  William,  Memoir,  I.  S. 

Early  Education  of  Pennsylvania,  xv,  646;  I.  S. 
Pennsylvania,  v,  879;  xvii,  31 ;  xviii,  819.  •  [452. 

Schools  as  they  were,  prior  to  1800,  S.  V.  382. 

Constitutional'Provision,  xvii,  93. 

Elementary  Schools,  xxiv,  841;  S.  V. 

Normal  Schools,  xv,  a31 ;  xvii,  30,  752  ;  S.  V. 

Country  Academies,  xv.  648. 

Superior  Schools,  xvii,  33:  S.  V.  654.         [I.  S. 

University.  S.  V.  463 :   Plans  of  New  Building, 

Agricultural  College,  S.  V.  570. 

Conventions,  xiv,  823.  .  [830. 

State  Teachers  Association,  xv,  831 ;  xvii,  36. 

Legal  Status  and  Schools  of  the  Blacks,  xix,  904. 

Reform  Schools,  S.  V.  582. 
Pensioner,  in  University,  I.  S. 
Pensions  for  Elementary  School  Teachers,  xvii,  31. 

Austria,  xvii,  158.      Italy,  xx,  774. 

Baden,  xvii,  31.          Prussia,  xx,  156. 

Bavaria,  xvii,  31.        Russia,  xx,  479. 

Belgium,  xvi,  31.        Saxony,  xx,  615. 

France,  xx,  292.          Switzerland,  xvii,  830, 553. 

Greece,  xvi,  31.          Wurtemberg,  xx,  774. 

Hesse,  xiv,  418.          Holland,  xiv,  604. 
People's  College,  S.  V.  190. 
Perception  and  Perceptive  Faculties,  xvii,  28. 
Pereire,  J.  R.,  Teacher  of  Articulation  to  Deaf- 
mutes,  1734,  S.  V.  491,  I.  S. 
Perfectionists,  S.  V.  6(54. 
Periodicals,  Educational,  American,  xvii,  36;  I.  S. 

European  in  1876, 

Perkins,  Alfred  E.,  Bequest  to  Yale  College,  x,  694. 
Perkins,  George  R.,  xvii,  710. 
Perkins,  James,  Benefaction,  i,  552. 
Perkins,  Thomas  H.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  879. 

Benefaction  to  the  Blind,  S.  V.,  497. 
Perry,  Amos,  xiv,  571.  [487.  540. 

Perry,  G.  B.,  Report  on   School-houses,  1833,  ix, 
Perry,  W.  F.,  Schools  of  Alabama,  ii,  465. 
Persia,  Educational  Maxims,  iii,  87. 
Personal  Habits,  xxiv,  698. 
Personal  Magnetism,  xxiv,  841. 

Unconscious  Influence,  xvii,  23. 

Power  of  Character,  xxiii,  906.  [129. 

Personal  Relations  of  Professors  and  Students,  vii, 
Personation,  and  Representation,  iii,  57. 
Perth,  Public  Schools,  xix,  777;  xxii,  909. 
Perugia,  University,  xx,  774. 
Pestalozzi,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  899 ;  xvii,  24. 

Poor  School  at  Neuhof,  xvii,  24. 

Leonard  and  Gertrude,  entire,  xvii,  24. 

Evening  Hour  of  a  Hermit,  xvii,  24. 

The  School  in  Bonnal,  xvii,  24. 

Anniversary  Address,  xvii,  24. 

How  Gertrude  Teaches  her  Children,  xvii,  24. 

Methods  of  Education,  by  himself,  xvii,  24. 

Assistants  and  Disciples,  xvii,  24. 

Publications  relating  to  System,  vii,  512.     [24. 

Anniversary  of  One  Hundredth  Birthday,  xvii, 
Pestalozzi,  Fell'enberg  and  Vehrli,  xxi,  765.  [973. 
Pestalozzi  and  Pestalozzianistn— Contents,  xxiii, 


Pestalozzianism  in  Prussia,  vii,  286;  xx,  774. 

Spread  into  different  Countries,  Historical  I.  S. 
Peter,  Eminent  Scholars  of  the  Name,  xxiv,  841. 
Peter,  Mrs.  Sarah,  xix,  904. 
Peter  the  Great,  of  Russia,  xx,  463. 
Peter,  von  Dresden,  xx,  533. 

Petit-Bourg.  Horticultural  Reform  School,  iii,  653. 
Petrarch,  and  Classical  Learning,  vii,  727. 
Petrus  Lombardus,  vi,  25. 
Petty  or  Primary  School  of  1659,  xvii,  195. 

Alphabet,  Classes  and  Methods,  xvii,  27. 

Organization  and  Methods  of  1870,  xix,  905. 
Pharmacy,  Military  Colleges,  xii,  2(51. 

Colleges  in  IT.  S.,  S.  V.  566. 
Phelps,  Mrs.  Lincoln,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii, 

List  of  Publications,  xvii,  619.  [611. 

First  and  Last  School,  as  Teacher,  xvii,  621. 
Phelps,  W.  F.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Aims  of  Normal  Schools,  iii,  417. 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  ii,  265. 
Philadelphia,  v,  879. 

Schools  as  they  were,  S.  V.  383,  452. 

Public  Schools,  xix,  904. 

Public  High  School,  xvii,  32. 

High  and  Normal  School  for  Girls,  xvii,  30. 

Buildings  for  Gr.  Schools,  xvii,  36;  xxiv,  601. 

University,  Historical,  I.  S. 
Philelphus,  F.,  Classical  Studies,  vii,  441. 
Philanthropic  Society's  School,  iii,  823;  xxii,  616. 
Pliilanthropinum  of  Basedow,  vii,  727. 
Philbrick,  John,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Work  for  National  Teachers'  Asso.,  xvii,  24. 

Extracts  from  Reports  and  Addresses,  xvii,  24. 

Boston  Schools  in  1875,  I.  S. 
Philister,  German,  vii,  727. 

Phillips,  Edward  B.,  Benefaction  for  Astronomy, 
Phillips,  John,  Memoir,  vi,  75.  [S.V.334. 

Phillips,  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  vi,  66. 

Phillips  Academy  at  Andover,  vi,  73. 

Phillips  Academy  at  Exeter,  vi,  80. 
Phillips,  Wendell,  Educational  Views,  xiv,  I.  S. 
Philological  Seminaries,  xvii,  830;  xix,  904. 
Philosophical  Course  and  School,  xvii,  830. 
Philosophical  Faculty,  vii,  215,  223. 

Professional  Studies,  vii,  223. 
Philosphy  and  Arts,  Department  at  Yale,  i,  359. 
Philosophy  in  University  Curriculum,  1449,  vi,  54. 
Philosophy  of  Education,  xvii,  18,  830. 
Philosophy,  Old  and  New,  vi,  54. 
Philosophy,  Primary  meaning  of,  xxiv,  517. 
Phipps,  A.  J.,  Plans  of  School-houses,  xxiv,  278 ;  I.S. 
Phonetics,  vii,  495  ;  xiv,  823. 
Phrenology.  Gall's  Lectures  at  Halle,  vii.  74. 
Physics,  Plow  Taught,  xvii,  830;  xxiii,  968;  xxiv, 

Cambridge  in  1618,  xiv,  180.  [841. 

Lonvain  in  1738,  xxiv,  788. 

Physical  Culture  in  America,  Historical,  xv,  831. 
Physical  Education,  Aphorisms,  xvii,  29. 

Aristotle  —  Ascham  —  Basdow  —  Comenius, 
29 ;  Currie— Elyot— Fellenberg— Gutsmuth— 
Jahn,  29;  Lalor— Locke  — Luther  — Mann- 
Mason — Miller,  29;  Montaigne — Pestalozzi — 
Plutarch— Quintilian,  29;  Rousseau  — Spen 
cer — Trotzendorf — Vehrli,  <fcc.,  29 ;  Raumer — 
Lewis  —  Molineux  — Bushnell,  &c.,  35;  xix, 
904 ;  xxiii,  698 ;  xxiv,  841 . 

Physical  Sciences,  xvii,  33;  xxii,  909;  xxiii.  968; 
Physiology,  xxiii,  968;  xxiv,  811.  [xxiv,  841. 

Physiology  and  Calisthenics,  i,  771. 
Piarists,  Teaching  Order,  xvii.  830. 
Pickard,  J.  D.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  33. 

Chicago  Manual,  xix,  905. 
Picket,  A.,  and  G.  W.,  vii,  727;  xvii,  823. 
Pictures  in  School-books,  xvii,  29. 
Picturing-out  Method,  Stow,  xvii,  29. 
Picus  of  Mirandola,  vii,  727. 
Pierce,  Benjamin,  National  University,  ii,  88. 
Pierce,  Cyrus,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  24. 
Pierce,  John  D.,  Memoir,  xv.  640.  [244. 

Pierpont,  John,  Educational  Work,  xii,  446;  xii}, 
Pietism,  and  Franke,  xvii,  22;  xx,  274. 


74 


<,KNi:i;\I.    INDEX    TO    N  \TK>N  \|.   M-'.IMKS 


Piety,  Cnltivation  of,  xxiii,  963. 
Piloty,  of  Belgium,  at  Munich,  xxi,  676. 
Pillans,  J..  Educational  Work,  v,  880. 
Pisa,  University,  xxii,  909. 
Pisi-tratup  at  Athene,  xxiv,  23. 
Pitcher.  Zina,  Service  to  Education  in  Michigan, 
Pitt,  William— Father  and  Sou,  xxiii,  968. 
Pitt-bun:,  Public  Schools,  xix,  905. 
Plaiting,  in  Froebel's  System,  xix,  905. 
Plamann,  J.  E.,  PestaloV.zian  in  Prussia,  vii,  308. 
Plan  of  Grammar  School  in  1658,  xvii.  296. 
Plan  of  Studies.  Official,  v,  864:  xv,  840;  xvi,  211 ; 
xvii,  830;  xix,  893;  xx,  830;  xx,  906 ;  xxiii, 
Plato,  Educational  View*,  x,  766 ;  xvii,  24.        [970. 

School  at  Athens,  xxiv,  841. 
Platonic  Academy  in  Florence,  vi,  440. 
Platter,  T.,  Autobiography,  v.  880.  [3(50. 

Plaucn,  GymnaHium,  Authorities  and  Teachers,  v, 
Play-day,  Special,  xvii,  302. 

Play -ground.  Uncov'd  School-room,  ix.  236 ;  x,  607. 
Play — Spontaneous  and  Pleasurable — Froebel,  xix, 
Play-state  of  Childhood,  xvii,  29;  xxii,  910.      [905. 
Play  and  Work— Bushnell.  xiii,  93;  I.  S. 
Play  fair.  Scientific  Instruction,  v, 880:  xxii, 71 ;  279. 
Plays  and  Pastimes,  xvii,  29;  xxii,  916;  xxiii,  868. 
Pleasure-grounds  of  Knowledge,  xvii,  29. 
Pliny,  Study  of,  v,  880. 

Hummer,  Miss,  Memoir  and  Benefactions,  xvii,  39. 
Plutarch— Educational  Views,  xvii,  25;  xxiv,  841. 
Plymouth  Colony,  School  Policy,  xxiv,  703. 

Convention— Adams,  Webster,  Putnam,  i,  587. 
Pocket  Money,  Limitations  as  to  Amount  xxiii,  861. 
Poems,  in  Culture  of  Imagination  and  Taste. 
Poetry,  Study  of,  xvii,  29;  xxiii,  963. 
Poets,  and  Jurists,  in  16th  Century,  v,  74. 
Poggius.  Education  in  Italy,  vii,  442. 
Poland.  School  Statistics,  xxi,  717. 
Politian.  Educational  Work,  xvii.  39. 
Politics.  Science  of.  v,  880;  xvii,  372. 
Political  Education,  v.  386;  xvii,  372. 
Political  Economy,  xxi,  75(5;  xxiii,  968. 
Politeness,  to  be  Cultivated,  vii,  303. 
Politeness,  Teacher's,  v,  880;  xxiii,  968. 
Polyglot  Bible.  Ximenes.  xxiv,  781. 
Polytechnic  Schools,  History,  xxi,  806. 

Number  and  Condition  in  1S70,  xxi.  806. 

Subjects  and  Methods  in  Mathematics,  xii,  13. 
Pombal.  Marquis,  Educational  Work,  xxiv,  91. 
Pomerania,  Early  Schools,  xvii,  &30;  xxiv,  135. 
Pomeroy,  E.  C.,  Memoir,  xv,  831. 
Ponce  de  Leon,  P.,  Speech  for  the  Dumb,  1555, 1.  S, 
Ponderation,  Lowe's  Science  of.  xxiii,  868. 
Poor  Clerks,  College  for,  xxiv.  841. 
Poor  Richard— Franklin,  xxiii.  968. 
Poor  Scholars,  xix,  905:  xx.  774;  xxiv,  841. 
Poor  Schools,  xv,  87 :  xix,  690. 
Pope,  A..  Schools  and  Universities,  xxiii,  968. 

The  Man  of  Ross— True  Use  of  Riches,  v,  880. 
Popes,  Connected  with  Education,  xxiv,  841. 

Relations  to  Universities,  vi,  14;  xxii.  :;-,•:.. 
Popplesdorf,  Academy  of  Agriculture,  xxi,  207. 
Popular  Education,  xii,  35,  361 ;  xix,  837. 
Popular  Ignorance,  v,  880  ;  vii,  360. 
Port-Royalist,  Arnauld,  Pascal.  St.  Cyran,  xx,  216. 

Schools  and  Methods,  xx,  216;  I.  S. 
Porter,  John  A.,  Agricultural  School,  i,  329. 
Porter,  Noah,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  S.  [25. 

Prize  Essay,  and  other  Educational  Work,  xvii, 
Portugal,  General  View,  xviii,  819;  xxi,  806. 

Public  Instruction,  Authorities,  xxi,  513. 

Primary  Schools,  xx,  517. 

Secondary,  xx,  524. 

Superior  and  Professional,  xx,  524. 

Technical,  xxi,  798. 

Portraits,  of  125  Teachers  aiyt  Educators,  xvii,  40. 
Portsmouth,  Naval  Academy,  xxii.  1 1~>. 
Post  Graduate  Course,  v,  776:  xi,  880. 
Potter,  E.  R.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  S. 

Bible  and  Prayer  in  Public  Schools,  1,344;  I.S. 
Potter.  Alonzo.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39 ;  I.  S. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  25. 


Th.-  Scliool  and  Schoolmaster,  i,  769. 
Potsdam,  Public  Schools,  xix,  905. 

School  of  Horticulture,  xxi,  306. 

Military  School,  xii.  735. 

Primary  Normal  School,  xiv,  197. 
;  Pouchet.  G.,  German  Universities — Berlin,  1.8. 
1  Pounds,  J.,  and  Rag-rod  Schools,  iii.  798:  I.  S. 
;  Powers  of  Mind,  to  be  Educated,  xvii,  29. 
i  Practical  Education  and  Educators,  v,  880;  xvii,  29. 

Contents  and  Index  to  Treatise,  I.  S. 
Practical  Science,  v,  880;  xvii.  33. 
Practical  Art,  xxii.  910.        [Pupils,  x,41;  I.  S.528. 
Practice,  and  Observation    Schools,  for  Normal 
Pradt,  J.  B..  Memoir,  xiv,  823. 
Prevaricator'*  Butloon.M -u-s,  I.  S. 
Prague,  Early  Christian  School,  xxiv,  353. 

Polytechnic  and  other  Special  Schools,  xxi,  806. 

University,  vi,  319:  xix.  905. 

Secession  of  German  Students  in  1409,  vi,  19. 
Praise,  for  Well  Doing,  xvii.  29;  xxiii.  968. 
Prayers  in  College— Hunt iu^ton,  v,  880. 
Prayers  in  School,  xx.  6S3;  xxiii,  1*68;  xxii,  910. 
Preceptor,  in  Thuringia,  xx,  607. 
Preceptors.  English  College  of,  I.  S. 
Precinct,  in  Massachusetts  School  Laws,  xxiv,  704. 
Precocity,  xi.  620. 

Prefects  in  School  Organization,  v,  880:  xx,  225. 
Prejudice.  Nature  and  Eflects.  Counteracted,  I.  S. 
Presbyterian  Church  in  U.  S.,  S.  V.  608. 

Confession  of  Faith.  S.  V..  609;  Statistics,  61 3. 

Education  Society,  xiv.  823. 

Presentation  Nuns.  Schools  for  Poor  Children,!.  S. 
Press,  as  a  Popular  Educator,  xxiv,  841. 
Preventive  Agencies,  xxv,  841. 
Priestley,  J.,  Observations  on  Education, 

In  American  Education,  I.  S. 
Primary  Schools.  American,  xi,  588;  xix,  905. 

Boston,  Origin,  xix,  470;  New  York,  xv,  489. 
Primary  Schools,  European,  xvii,  31 ;  xx,  770. 
Primary  Superior  School— French,  xx,  774. 
Primer,  Media-val,  xxiv.  191;  xvii,  36. 

New  England.  Illustrations,  S.  V..  541. 
Prince,  Albert,  xvii,  19;  xxii,  910. 
Princeton,  Nassau  College,  xxiv.  148. 

Theological  Seminary,  xviii,  204. 
Prinsi-n.  Schools  of  Holland,  xiv,  642. 
Printed  School  Reports,  v.  880.  [399. 

Printed  Questions,  for  Examinations,  Earliest,  xi, 
Printing-press— Uses  to  Boys,  xvii,  29.  [29, 

Private  Schools,  Influence  on  Public,  xv.  831 ;  xvii. 
Private  Schools,  and  Public  (Boarding)  Schools. 
Private  Schools  and  Public  (Dav)  Schools,  xv,  324. 
Private  Schools,  European,  xvii.  830;  xx.  774. 
Privat-docenten,  v,  880;  xix.  667:  Hart,  I.  S. 
Private  Tutors,  in  English  Inivrrsities,  I.  S. 

Family  Instruction,  vii,  728. 

Privies  and  Out-buildings,  ix,  639.  [48. 

Privileges.  University  Attribute,  xxii,  276;  xxiv, 

Example  of  Vienna,  vi,  13. 

Privy  Council.  Committee  on  Education,  x,  339,707. 
Prize  Scheme  for  Teaching  Common  Things,  v, 
880:  xvii,  29.  I.  S. 

Prizes  and  Medals,  xvii.  910;  xix,  905.  xvii,  252. 

Value,  in  English  Universities,  I.  S. 
Probation  Scheme.  Merchant  Taylors,  xvii,  252. 
Probus,  Choice  of  Hercules,  xxiv.  342 
Proctor,  and  Proctorizing,  xiv.  841 ;  I.  S. 
Proctor.  System  of  Inst.  at  Sandhurst,  xxiii,  564, 
Procurator  of  a  Nation,  University,  vi,  18. 

Relations  to  Proctor,  xxiv,  47. 
Profane  Language  by  Pupils,  xix,  905;  xxiii,  70. 
Professional  Studies",  excluded  from  Gvinnasium, 
Professor.  Original  Meaning,  xxii.  '.tin   '[vii.  — 
Professors  in  German  System,  xx.  774;  xix,  686. 

Russia,  xx,  502.  509. 

Portugal.  \\.  (OB. 

Italy.  \\.  !' 

France,  xx.  299,  881. 

Turkey,  xx.  24,  30. 

Programmes.  In  French  Pedagogy,  xvii,  a31  ;xx,318. 
Programmes  of  Study,  xii,  735 ;  'xiv,  823. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


75 


Pro-gymnasiums,  xv,  &31 ;  xvii,  510;  xix,  626. 
Prohibitions  and  Penalties,  v,  845 ;  xiii,  852. 
Promotion  by  Merit,  xvii,  29. 

Military,  xxii,  910 ;  xxiii,  968. 
Pronunciation— Greek  and  Latin,  xv,  831. 

English  Controversy. 

German  Controversy. 
Property  Taxation  for  Public  Schools,  xv,  319. 

Reasons  for,  and  Limitations,  I.  S. 
Protagoras  of  Plato,  xxiv,  841. 
Protestantism  and  Catholicism,  xiv,  823. 
Protestantism,  and  Classical  Studies, 
Protestantism  and  Popular  Education,  xvii,  831. 
Providence,  Public  Schools,  v,  880;  xix,  905. 

School-houses,  xvii,  36 ;  xxii,  412. 

Brown  University,  xxiv,  143. 

Kingsbury  Female  Seminary,  v,  17. 
Provost,  xxiv,  47. 

Prussia,  Historical  Development,  v,  880;  xvii,  31; 
xviii,  820 ;  xix,  601 :  xx,  774 ;  xxii,  910. 

Public  instruction,  xix,  609;  xx,  350. 

Primary  School  System,  xvii,  31 ;  xx,  744. 
Subjects  and  Methods,  xvii,  31 ;  xxii,  745. 

Teachers  Seminaries,  xvii,  30  ;  xx,  774. 
Conferences,  Professional,  xxii,  836. 
Regulation  of  1854 ;  xxii.  837. 
Statistics  and  Results,  xxii,  813. 

Secondary  School  System,  xvii,  32,  433. 
Regulations  1837,  ix,  569. 
Classical  Side,  xix,  604. 
Realistic  Side,  xix,  628 ;  xvii,  531. 
Teachers— Seminaries— Trial  Year,  xvii,  484. 
Statistics  and  Results,  xvii,  508. 

Superior  Schools— Universities,  xvii,  33,595; 
xix,  664;  xx,  768.  [847. 

Professional — Theology,  Law,  Medicine,  xxii, 

Polytechnic,  Trade,  Agriculture,  xxi,  14,  178. 

Military  and  Naval,  xii,  281 ;  xxiii,  227. 

Reformatory  Schools,  xxii,  604. 

Literature  of  Schools  and  Education,  I.  S. 
Prytaueum,  French,  xii,  7:35 ;  xx,  806. 
Psychology,  and  Teaching,  I.  S.  465. 

Benecke's  System,  xxiv,  50. 
Ptolemy,  Founder  of  a  University,  xxiv,  34. 
Public  Dinners  in  Athens,  xxiv,  54. 
Public  Good  Society,  Holland,  xiv,  641.  [337. 

Public  High  School,  Arguments  for,  xv,  279;  xvii, 
Public  Interest  in  Schools,  an  Element  of  Success, 

Agencies  to  Awaken,  xv,  285.  [v,  880. 

Public  Libraries,  v,  881 ;  xxiii,  906 ;  S.  V.  507,  585. 
Public  Primary  School,  Aims — Donaldson,  I.  S.  487. 

Trade,  or— Living,  488.          Citizenship,  489. 

Highest  Development,  490.  [xxii,  798. 

Public  Primary  School — Recent  German  Action, 

Limitations  and  Concentrations,  805. 

Official  Programme,  Prussia,  I.  S. 
Public  School,  English,  denned,  xxiv,  841. 
Public  Schools,  Tiie  Great,  xv,  81 ;  xvii,  29. 
Public  School  Teaching,  as  a  Profession,  xv,  831. 
Public  Schools,  American,  v,  881 ;  xvii,  18, 31 .    [910. 
Public  Schools  and  Private  Schools,  xvii,  29 ;  xxii, 
Public  Service,  School  for,  xxiv,  29. 

Examination,  xix,  905.  [205. 

Publicity  in  all  Trusts,  especially  Educational,  iii, 
Pugh,  Evan,  Agricultural  School,  S.  V.  260. 
Punctuality,  v,  881 ;  xxiv,  29.  [xiv,  401! 

Punishment  and  Prevention,  State's  Right  to  both, 
Punishments  in  School,  v,  881 ;  xvii,  27. 

Historical  Development,  I.  S.  326. 

Greece,  Rome,  Germany,  325. 

France,  England,  Scotland,  329. 

Instrumentalities,  325,  335. 

Practice  of  different  Schools,  327,  334. 
Pupil-Teachers—Holland  System,  ix,  191 ;  xiv,  667. 

English  System,  xvii,  29 ;  Rigg,  I.  S. 
Pusey,  E.  B.,  Collegiate  Teaching,  ii;  I.  S. 
Putnam,  D.,  Memoir,  xv.  646. 
Putnam,  O.,  and  Putnam  Free  School,  ii,  685. 
Puzzling  Pupils,  xv,  166 ;  xvii,  29. 
Pyritz,  Normal  School,  xiv,  194. 
Pyrotechny,  or  Chemistry,  xiv,  180. 


Quadragesima,  Standing  in,  I.  S. 
Quadriennium,  Undergraduate  Period,  xiv,  177. 
Qnadrivium,  i,  254;  xi,  21,  22;  xxiv,  841. 

Relations  to  Faculty  of  Arts,  I.  S. 
Quaestor  in  University,  xix,  666. 

Trotzendorf  s  School,  v,  108. 
Quakers,  and  their  Schools,  vi,  118  ;  S.  V.  640. 

As  they  were— Darlington,  S.  V.  382. 
Qualifications  of  a  Teacher,  ix,  173,  183. 
Quantity,  Science  of,  xiii,  129. 
Quarter-bills,  in  Vienna  Schools,  xix,  688. 
Q.uarterly  Register,  Educational  Statistics,  xiv,  823. 
Queen's  Cadets,  at  Sandhurst,  xxiii,  968. 
Queen's  College,  New  Jersey,  xxiii,  149.  [354. 

Queen's  Scholars  in  English  Training  Schools,  x, 
Queen's  Colleges  and  University,  Ireland,  ix,  579. 

Belfast,  Cork,  Galway,  I.  S. 
Question— Conditions  of  a  Good,  ix,  369,  418. 
Questioning,  Modes,  xiii,  871 ;  xvii,  409,  411. 
Questionists,  in  University  Examinations,  I.  S. 
Questions,  for  Inspection  of  Schools,  i,  686. 

Testing  a  School,  x,  451. 

Common  Things,  x,  97. 

Questions— Printed,  for  Written  Answers,  ii,  326. 
Quick,  R.  N.,  Educational  Reformers,  I.  S.  537. 

Jacotot,  Mastery  Method,  I.  S.  537. 
Quick  and  Slow  Wits— Ascham,  xi,  58;  vii,  303. 
Quiet  in  School-rooms,  ix,  617. 
Quincy,  J.,  Phillip's  Academy,  xvii,  215. 
Quincy  Grammar  School,  Boston,  xii,  735.          [25. 
Quincy,  Josiah,  Jr.,  School  Policy  of  Boston,  xvii, 

Substantial  Aid  to  Normal  Schools,  xvii,  668. 
Quincy,  Adams  Academy,  I.  S.,  1. 
Quintilian,  Educational  Views,  xi,  111 ;  x,  766. 
Quint,  E.,  xi,  387. 

Rabanus,  Maurus  of  Fulda,  xxiv,  339. 
Rabelais,  Pedagogic  Views,  xiv,  147. 
Rabstein,  Mechanic  School,  1751.  xvii,  98. 
Race,  Schools  irrespective  of,  xix,  906. 
Radcwin,  Florentius,  iv,  623. 
Radleigh  School,  Visit  to,  iv,  803. 
Radpert,  Parchasius,  of  Old  Corby,  xxiv,  344. 
Ragged  School  Movement,  Historical  Devel.,  I.  S. 
Ragged  Schools,  v,  881 ;  xvii,  34. 
Raikes,  Robert,  Sunday  Schools,  iii,  798. 
Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  Advice  to  his  Son,  I.  S. 
Ramsauer,  J.,  Pestalo/zi's,  Assistant,  v,  881. 
Ramsden,  Agencies  of  Education,  xi,  620. 
Ramus,  P.,  Memoir  and  Work,  xiv,  179;  xxiv,  841. 
Ramusat,  Circular  to  Teachers,  xx.  273. 
Randall,  II.  S.,  School  Libraries,  v,  509. 
Randall,  S.  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiii,  227. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  25. 
Randolph  (Vt.)  Normal  School,  xvii,  790. 
Rank,  Teachers',  Civil  and  Social,  xx,  774. 
Rank,  in  the  University,  I.  S.  [243. 

Raphall.  M.  J.,  Education  among  the  Hebrews,  i, 
Rate  Bill,  or  Tuition  per  Scholar,  v,  881 ;  xxiv,  234. 

Abolition — Apparent  and  Actual  results,  I.  S. 
Rategar  of  Fulda,  xxiv,  342. 
Ratio  Studiorum,  Acquaviva,  xiv,  462. 

Ordo  Studorum,  Petrus  Codicillus,  xvi,  609. 
Ratich,  W.,  Life  and  Methods,  xvii  25. 

Study  of  German  in  German  Schools,  xi,  419. 
Rmihe  Haus.  near  Hamburg,  xii,  881 ;  xxi,  910. 
Raumer,  F.  Schools  of  Italy  in  1850,  xvi,  689. 
Raumer,  Karl  von,  v,  881 ;  xvii,  18,  25. 

German  Universities,  vi.  9;  vii,  49. 

Academical  Subjects,  vii,  201. 

Early  Childhood,  vii,  382. 

Religious  Instruction,  vii,  401. 

Education  in  Italy,  vii,  411. 
Raumer,  Rudolf,  German  Language,  xvii.  25. 
Ravis  Almanzer,  Mediaeval  Treatise,  vi,  28. 
Ravaisson,  F.,  Instruction  in  Drawing,  xxi,  513. 
Ray,  J.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvi,  603. 
Reaction,  Law  of  Discipline,  xi,  620. 
Readers,  of  Greek  and  Latin  Authors,  xxiv,  434. 
Readers,  Ordinary  and  Cursory,  University,  I.  S. 
Reading  and  Writing— Electoral  Teat,  xvii,  201. 


76 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Reading,  Subject  of  School  Instruction,  xvii,  29. 

Books,  What  and  How.  xxiii,  969. 
Real  School*.  Realistic  Studio,  xvii.  29. 
Historical  De\rlopment.  xix,  206. 
National  Sy-tem,  xxi.  806. 
Real  Gymnasium,  Example-,  xx,  774;  xxii,  916. 
Realists,  and  Nominalists,  vi,  24. 
Reason,  Culture  01  the,  x,  132. 
Reasoning  with  C'hildren,  xvii,  29. 
Recess  in  School  Session,  xix,  906. 
Recreation,  xiv.  s23:  for  the  Public,  S.  V.  113. 
Rector,  vii,  20;  xx,  774. 

Position  in  Early  Universities,  xxii,  910. 
Scotch  Latin  Schools,  xx,  910. 
Red  Lodge  and  Red  Hill  Reformatories,  v,  842. 
Redtield,  \V.  C.,  Memoir,  v,  881. 
Redgrave.  Richard,  British  Art,  xxii,  63. 
Redwood  Library,  S.  V.  508. 
Reed,  E.  J..  Naval  Construction,  xxiii,  942. 
Reed,  Sir  Charles,  London  School  Board,  I.  S. 
Reflection  and  Refl.  Faculties,  xvii,  29;  xxiii,  969. 
Reform  Schools  and  Reformatory  Agencies,  v,  881 ; 
Barnard's  Treatise— Contents,  v,  816.          [910. 

xvii,  34;  1.8. 
Wichenfs  Survey  of  German  Reform  Schools, 

xxii,  5811. 

Wines,  E.  E.,  Visit  to  Mcttray,  xxiv,  844. 
Development  since  1854,  I.  S. 
Reform  Schools  in  V.  S.  iar>5.  iv,882;  S.V.582,  882. 

Historical  Development,  I.  S. 
Reference  Library.  Teachers'  Earliest,  xvii,  317. 
Reformed  Dutch  Church,  S.  V.  616. 

Early  School  Policy  in  New  York.  S.  V.  346. 
Reformation  (Luther's),  Influence  on  Schools,  xvii, 
508;  xx,  774;  I.  S.  [258. 

Regent,  in  University  Organization,  xxii,  910;  i, 
Regents  of  the  University  of  New  York,  J.  S. 
Reineck,  John,  xxiv,  107. 
Reid.  David,  Ventilation  of  Dwellings,  v,  882. 

College  of  Architecture,  xvii.  25. 
Reisch,  Gregarius,  Margarita  Philosophies,  I.  S. 

xviii.  «M). 

Reiss  Greitx  and  Strelitz.  Public  Schools,  xix,  906. 
Religion,  and  Statistics  of  Churches  xviii,  821. 
Centennial  Progress  in  U.  S.,  S.  V.  I.  590. 
Religion,  and    Religious    Instruction    in    Public 
Schools,  v.  882;  xvii,  29,  831 ;  xix,  906;  xx, 
774;  xxii,  635;  xxiii,  969;  xxiv,  842;  I.  S. 
Religious  Dogmas  and  Public  Schools  xiv,  823. 
Religious  Orders  in  Catholic  Church,  xxiv,  842. 
Ancient  Orders— Men,  I.  S. 
Sisterhoods — Consecration.  I.  S. 
Introduction  and  Number  in  U.  S. 
Removal  of  Bad  Boys  from  School,  v.  882;  xix,  464. 
Rendu,  E.,  Educational  Expenses  of  France  and 

Prussia,  v,  882;  xvii.  25. 
Renowning,  Duelling.  Bullying,  vii,  55. 
Rensselaer  Institute  at  Troy,  v,  882. ;  vi,  234 
Reporting  System,  Self,  x,  658. 
Rep&atonal  System,  xii,  735;  xxiv.  842. 
Repetition  and  Disputation,  xxiv,  89.  805:  xx, 
Repetition  Schools,  xvii,  a'JO;  xx,  775;  xxi,  806; 

xxii,  861. 

Republicanism  and  Education,  v,  882;  xix,  801. 
Reputation,  a  Motive,  xiv,  281. 
Requisition*  and  Prohibitions,  xiii,  851. 
Re-rarch.  and  Instruction.  Combined,  xvii.  598. 
Resewitz.  Education  of  the  Citizen,  xix,  682. 
Responsions,  and  Opponencies— Little  Go,  I.  S. 
Restrictions,  on  Children's  Pastimes,  xiii,  98. 
Reuchlin,  and  Schlettstadt  School,  xvii,  25. 
Rni-s.  xviii,  820. 

Revival  of  Education.  S.  J.  May,  xvii.  24. 
Reverence.  Cultivation  of.  Goethe,  xxiii,  969. 
Rewards  and  Pri/es,  x,  509. 
IJeynoldH,  Sir  J.,  Industry  and  Genius, 
Hheims.  Ancient  Schools,  xxiv,  842. 

Industrial  School,  xxi.  806. 

Rhetoric,  at  Paris,  xix.  50S;  xxiii.  969;  xxiv,  842. 
Rhetoric,  v,  882:  xii,  581;  xix,  906;  xxiii,  969;  xxiv, 
Guilds  in  Low  Conn  trice,  v,  882.  [842. 


Rhode  Island,  v.  &S2;  xvii,  32;  xviii,  820.  . 

( Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  91. 

Hi-torical  Data,  xxiv.  812;  S.  V.  349. 

Public  Schools,  v,  880;  xvii,  32;  xxiv   312. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  882;  S.  V. 

Associations  and  Conventions,  xvii,  36. 

Legal  Status  of  the  Negro,  xix,  383. 

Normal  School  and  Institutes,  xvii,  30,  799. 
R.  I.  Institute  of  Instruction,  xiv.  559;  Stone,  I.  S. 
R.  I.  Journal  of  Instruction— Contents,  i,  754. 
Rice,  E.,  Irish  Christian  Brothers,  xv,  736. 
Rhodes,  Ancient  School,  xxiv,  466. 
Ribbon,  Designing  and  Weaving,  xxi,  806. 
Rice,  A.  H.,  and  Rice  School-house,  xxiii.  211. 
Rice,  Victor  M.,  Schools  of  New  York,  xvii,  25,  39. 
Rich  and  Poor,  Education  together,  xiii,  871 :  ix,913. 

School  of  American  Citizenship,  xix,  577. 
Richard.  Franklin's  Poor,  xxiii,  249. 
Richard.  W.  F.,  Manual  of  Methods,  xvii,  25. 
Richards,  C.  S..  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Richards,  Z.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  25,  39. 
Richardson.  M.,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Richter,  J.  P.,  Educational  Views,  xvii,  25. 
Richmond,  Va..  Public  Schools,  v,  882;  xix,  906. 

Normal  School,  xix,  906;  S.  V.  580. 
Rickon".  A.  J.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii.  39. 

National  Bureau  of  Education,  xvii,  25. 
Ridirway  Branch-Philadelphia  Library,  I.  S. 
Ridicule,  Exposure  to,  I.  S. 
Riding  and  Riding  Schools,  xii,  225,  245;  xxiii,  969; 

xxiv.  842. 

Riga,  Polytechic  School,  xxi,  806. 
Rigg,  J.  II.,  National  Education,  I.  S. 

Education  in  the  United  States,  I.  S. 
Riecke.  Man.  the  Subject  of  Education,  xxii,  559. 
Riots,  University,  xxiv,  493. 
Ripley.  E.  L..  Memoir,  xvii,  29. 
Rittenhouse.  Orrery,  xxiv,  848. 
Roads  and  Bridges,  Schools  and  Classes,  xxi.  806. 
Robbing,  Thomas.  Memoir,  and  Library,  v,  888. 
Robinson,  Memoir,  and  Female  Academy,  xxiv,  842. 
Rochester,  Public  Schools,  xix,  906. 

University — Ward's  Laboratory. 
Rochow.  Educational  Work,  xx,  775;  I.  S. 
|  Rod.  Abuses  of.  v,  882;  xxiii.  969. 
i  Rod,  National  Use,  Historically  Treated,  I.  S.  333. 
Rodiad,  Coleman.  1.  S.  336. 

Rogers.  Harriet  B..  Deaf-Mute  Instruction,  I.  S. 
Rolaudsen,  A.,  Earliest  Teacher  in  N.  Y.,  S.  V.  346. 
Rollin,  Memoir  and  Pedagogy,  xxiii,  17. 
Rome,  Ancient,  Universities,  xxiv,  27,  467. 
Rome,  Modern,  v,  882:  xvi.  xx,  774. 
Roman  Law  and  Jurisprudence,  v,  882;  xx,  739. 

Schools — Ancient,  Berytus,  &c.,  xxiv,  489. 

Schools— Mediieval,  xx,  737. 

Schools— Modern,  xxiv.  791. 
Roman  Chant,  xxiv,  842. 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  xviii.  821;  S.  V. 

Growth  in  U.  S.— Doctrines.  S.  V.  595. 

Teaching  Orders  and  their  Schools,  xxiv,  742. 

Doctrine  and  Practice  in  Education,  xxiv,  41. 

Claims  in  respect  to  School  Tax  and  Funds, 
Roman  Civilization— Downfall,  xxiv.  536.         [537. 

Reconstruction  by  Monastic  Institutions, xxiv, 
Romance  Reading,  xxiii.  969. 
Roothaan.  General  of  the  Jesuits,  xiv,  463. 
Roscelinus,  J..  xxiv.  842. 

Rosenkrantz.  Memoir  and  Pedagogy,  xvii,  25,  I.  S. 
Rosier.  Agricultural  School  in  France,  S.  V.  482. 
Rosmini,  A.,  Memoir,  and  Pedagogy,  xvii,  25. 
Ross,  W.  P.,  Cate< 'helical  Method,  xvii,  25. 
Ro-tock.  University,  xix,  906. 
Rote  Learning,  xvi'i,  29. 
Rouinania,  xviii,  821. 
Rouse,  Admiral,  xxiii.  945. 
Rons-ran.  Memoir,  and  Emile,  xvii,  25. 

Educational  Views,  v,  882. 
Roxbury.  Early  Free  School,  v,  883. 
Royal  Academies  and  Institutions,  v.  883:  xxii.  910. 
Royal  Society  -Royal  Institution,  xxii,  37;  I.  S. 
Riu-hdic,  or  Grammar  School  in  Turkey,  xx,  775. 


GENEEAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


77 


Rudoldstadt,  Public  Schools,  xx,  649. 
Ruffner,  W.  H.,  Schools  of  Virginia. 
Rugby  School,  under  Dr.  Arnold,  v,  883. 

As  it  Is,  I.  S. 

Rules  and  Regulations  of  City  Public  School— Di 
gest,  xix,  900. 
.  Rum  ford.  Count  (Thompson),  Life  Work,  I.  S. 

Royal  Institution,  xviii,  37. 

Rush,  Benjamin,  Memoir  and  Educa'l  Views,  I.  S. 
Rush,  James.  Extracts  from  last  Will,  I.  S. 
Russ.  John  D.,  Instruction  of  the  Blind,  S.  V.  497. 
Ruskin,  John,  xvii,  25. 
Russell,  Lord  John,  v,  883;  I.  S. 
Russell,  Scott,  Technical  Education,  xxiii,  218. 
Russell,  William,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

American  Journal  of  Education,  iii,  140. 

Human  Culture — Intellectual,  xvii,  25. 

Moral  Education,  ix,  19. 

Legal  Recognition  of  Teaching,  x.  297. 
Russia— General  Statistics,  v,  883;  xviii,  821 ;  xxi, 
717:  xxi  v,  842. 

Historical  Development  of  Ed.,  xx,  403;  775. 

Elementary,  473-480. 
'  Secondary.  487-4%. 

Superior,  497. 

Special— Scientific  and  Industrial,  xxi,  718. 

Military  and  Naval,  xxiv,  842. 
Rustication,  in  College  Discipline. 
Rutgers  (Queen's)  College,  S.  V.  350,  552,  570, 
Ruthardt,  J.  C.,  Method  of  Teaching  Latin,  xvii,  25. 
Rutledge,  John,  Study  of  the  Law,  I.  S. 
Ruysselede,  Agricultural  Reform  School,  iii,  621. 
Ryder,  A.  P.,  Navigation  Schools,  xxii,  149. 
Ryerson,  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii.  577. 

System  of  Public  Schools  for  Canada,  v,  883. 
Rytw'ise,  J.,  xvi,  082. 

Saalfeld,  Gymasium,  Org.  by  Melancthon,  xx,  621. 

Sabbath  School,  xvii,  &31. 

Saccristans,  Relations  to  Schools,  xx,  775. 

Sacramento,  Public  Schools,  xix,  907. 

Sacred  Scripture,  v,  883. 

Sacrobusto,  v,  883. 

Saegerts,  School  for  Idiots  at  Berlin,  v,  883. 

Sage,  Henry,  Benefaction  to  Cornell,  S.  V.  537. 

Sagen,  Normal  School  of  Felbiger,  xx,  347. 

Sailors,  Special  Schools  for,  xxi,  578;  xxiii,  927. 

Salamanca,  University,  xxiv,  778.  [xx,  773. 

Salaries  of  Teachers, "Legal  Provision,  v,  883;  xix, 

Motive  for  Work,  xiv,  279  ;  I.  S.  348,  525. 
Salaries,  University  Professors,  xxii,  290. 
Sale  of  a  Schoolmaster,  xx,  737;  xxiv,  202. 
Salem,  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  697. 

Early  Free  School,  i,  301,  I.  S. 
Salerno.  Medical  School,  xxii,  274;  xxiv,  500. 
Samuelson,  Technical  Instruct^,  xxi,  800 ;  xxii,  910. 
Salford,  Free  Museum  and  Library,  v,  883. 
Salisbury,  Bingham  Library,  v,  343. 
Salisbury,  Ed.  E.,  Benefactions  to  Yale  Col.,  I.  S. 
Salisbury,  Lord,  Oxford  University  Bill,  I.  S. 
Salt  Mines,  and  Mining,  xxi,  141. 
Salting,  in  Cambridge  Parlance,  I.  S. 
Sfilvandy,  French  Lyceums,  xx,  304.  [584. 

Salzman,  Institution  at  Schnepfenthal,  v,  883;  xx, 
Sams,  Isaac,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
San  Michele,  Reform  Asylum  at  Rome,  iii,  580. 
San  Domingo,  xviii,  821. 
San  Francisco,  Public  Schools,  xviii,  821 ;  xix,  907. 

School-houses,  xxiv,  969. 

City  Normal  School,  xxiii,  a31. 
San  Salvador,  xviii,  821. 
Sanborn,  E.  D.,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Sanctity,  Personal,  End  of  all  Culture,  xxiv,  392. 
Sand  and  Kotzebue.  vii,  103. 
Sandhurst,  Military  College,  xxiii,  909. 

Senior  Department  at  High  Wycomb,  500. 

Junior  Department  at  Great  Marlow,  500. 

Staff  College  in  1858,  500. 
Sandrart,  Nuremberg  Art,  xxi,  101. 
Sang  School  in  Scotland,  xxii,  478. 
Sarcasm,  in  the  Teacher,  xxiii,  909. 


Sardinia,  Public  Instruction— Botta.  v,  883 :  xvii,  31. 
Sarmiento,  Memoir  and  Educational  Work,  xvii,  25. 
Sartain,  J.,  Art  Studies  in  Philadelphia,  xix,  775. 
i  Sassnri,  University,  xx,  198. 

Saturday,  Half  or  Whole  Holiday,  xvii,  302 ;  xix,  459. 
Savage,  James,  Primary  Schools  of  Boston,  xix,  907. 
Savignv,  Universities  in  the  Middle  Ages,  xxii,  273. 
Bologna.  Padua,  Pisa,Vincenza,  Rome,  Naples, 
Paris,  Montpelier,  Orleans,  Toulouse,  309,  275. 
Salamanca,  Alcala,  Oxford— 324. 
Name,  Officers,  Law  Lectures — 325. 
Sawyer,  H.  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
Saxe-Altenburg— Public  Instruction,  xx,  507. 

Seminary — Horticulture  and  Gymnastics,  509. 
j  Saxe-Coburg  Gotha,  Public  Instruction,  xx,  573. 
Ernest  the  Pious — Andrew  Reyher,  577. 
School  Law  of  1803,  xxii,  894. 
j  Saxe-Meiningen,  Public  Instruction,  xx,  005. 

Seminary  at  Hildbunrhausen.  000,  009. 
i  Saxe-Weimar,  Public  Instruction,  xx,  027. 

Normal  Schools  at  Eisenach  and  Weimar,  030. 
j  Saxon  Principalities,  xviii,  821 ;  xx,  505. 

Special  and  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  800. 
I  Saxony,  Kingdom,  xviii,  821;  xxi.  800;  xxii,  910. 
Historical  Development  of  Schools,  xx,  530. 
Order  of  1528— School  Code  1080,  530,  540. 
Elementary  Schools,  xx,  554. 
Secondary— Classical— Real,  xx,  502;  ix,  201. 
Blockmarks  Gymnasium,  xvii,  32;  ix,  202. 
University  of  Leipsic,  v,  302;  xix,  907;  xx,  534. 
Special— Polytechnic,  xxi,  800;  xix,  907. 
City  School  Systems,  xix,  907. 
Sayes  Court,  Domestic  Life,  I.  S.  374,  389. 
|  Scaliger,  v,  883:  xxi,  750. 

Schaft'hausen,  Cantonal  System,  xx,  775. 
j  Scharnhorst,  Military  Education  in  Prussia,  xii,  288. 
!  Scherr,  Thomas,  Swiss  School  Reformer,  xxiii,  909. 
r  Schermer,  J.  M.,  School  Reformer  xx,  737. 
Scheurl,  C.,  Library,  xi,  161. 
Schiller,  Citations,'x,  700. 
,  Schleissheim,  Agricultural  School,  xxi,  133. 
!  Schleswig-Holstein,  Public  Instruction,  xx,  035. 

City  Schools,  xix,  907. 
Schlettstadt  School  in  1450,  v,  883. 
|  Schmid,  Joseph,  Assistant  of  Pestalozzi,  xvii,  25. 
Schmidt,  P.  System  of  Drawing,  xxi, 
Schmid,  R.  A.,  Pedagogische  Encyklopadie,  xvii,  25. 
Schnepfenthal,  Salzman's  Institution  ,v,  883.  xx,  597. 
Schcenberg  Prince,  Benefactions,  v,  883. 
Scholiv,  Majores  and  Minores,  xxiv,  842. 
Scholars,  xx,  733 ;  xxiv,  509. 
Scholarships,  and  Exhibitions,  v,  883;  xxii, 
Scholasticism,  v,  883. 
Scholasticus,  xxii,  7&3. 

Scholastica,  Sister  of  St.  Benedict,  xxiv,  520. 
Scholastic  Discipline— Hoole,  xvii,  293. 
School  Age — see  Age. 
School,  defined,  xxiv,  17. 

School  Funds,  American,  Historical  Dev.,  I.  S. 
School  Systems,  American,  S.  V.  345-588. 
School  and  Teacher  in  Literature,  v,  883. 
School  Question — Present  Aspect,  England,  I.  S. 
School  Life,  Personal  Reminiscences,  I.  S. 
School  Management,  xxii.  837  ;  I.  S.  521. 
School  Nomenclature,  I.  S.  570. 
Schools  as  they  were.  United  States,  xvii,  18,  831. 
Colonial  Period,  S.  V.,  345. 
Revolution,  and  Transition  Period,  S.  V.  359. 
About  1800,  303,  307. 

Progressive  Dev.  of  State  Systems,  S.  V.  395. 
Schotteling.  the  Seeker,  xi,  429. 
Schottgen,  Rector  in  Dresden,  v,  884;  vi,  45. 
Schorists,  in  Penalism,  vi.  45. 
Schrader,  Education  and  Instruction,  I.  S.  493. 
Schulpibrta,  Boarding  Gymnasium,  v,  358;  xix,  045. 
Schultx,  Privy  High  Councillor,  vii,  137. 
Schwar/burg — Kudoldstadt,  Public  Schools,  xviii, 

821:  xxii.  744;  xx,  775. 

Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,  xviii,  821;  xxiv,  744. 
Schwytz,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  775. 
Sclavonia,  Public  Schools,  xvii,  180. 


78 


<. I.M.KM.   !NI»KX   TO   NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Scientific  Academies,  and  Universities,  vii,  237. 
Science,  defined,  xxiii.  969:  I.  S.  177,  482. 

Science  of  Education.  I.  S. ;  465,  485. 
Science  in  School  Curriculum,  xxii,    910;   xxiii, 
969;  xvii,  29;  I.  S.  477. 

S.-condary  Schools,  v,  88-1;  xxii,  '.HO. 

Universities,  xxii,  139;  I.  S. 
Science  and  tin-  Arts,  v,  KS4  ;  xvii,  29;  xxii,  910. 
Science  and  Art  Department,  Hii-land,  xxii,  910. 
Science  and  Labor,  xxi,  679. 
Science,  in  American  Colleges,  History,  I.  S. 

Harvard.  S.  V.  233. 

Yale— Silliman.  I.  S. 

Science.  Schools  of.  vii.  237;  xxiv,  20;  S.  V. 
Science  Teaching— Payne,  I.  S.  477. 
Scientific  Researches, 'Governmental,  I.  S. 
Scipio,  Africanus.  Employment  of  his  Time, 
Scolapi  Fathers,  Teaching  Order,  xvi,  698. 
Scolaris  Simplex,  in  old  Universities,  vi,  22. 
Scotland,  ix.  040:  xvii,  31 ;  xxii,  267. 

Hi>torical  Data,  v,  884;  xvii,  31  ;  xxii,  453. 

Parochial  Schools,  xvii,  31 ;  xxii,  209.         [989. 

Sessional,  and  Side,  ix,  219.  227. 

Burgh,  Grammar,  Academies,  xxii,  910;  xxiii, 

Superior,  iv,  821 ;  xxiv,  801. 

Special  and  Professional,  xxii,  140:  xxiv,  791. 

Normal  and  Training  Colleges,  xvii,  213. 

Dick's  Bequest,  v,  865. 

Scientific  and  Art  Institutions,  xxii,  911. 

Educational  Institute,  ix,  224. 

Ragged  and  Reformatory  Schools,  v,  824 ;  I.  S. 

school  Code,  and  Department,  I.  S.  496. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter—  his  Dominie  Sampson,  I.  S. 
Scotus  Erigena,  xxiv,  501,  360. 
Scriptorium,  Monastic,  xxiv,  842. 
Sculpture  and  Education,  Addison,  xvi,  19. 
Sea-going,  Discouraged  by  Parents,  xxii,  911. 
Seamen,  Schools  for.  xxii,  146,  423. 
Sears.  Barnas.  Schools  of  Massachusetts,  xvii,  25. 

Life  of  Martin  Luther,  xxiv,  97. 
Sears,  E.  I..  Henrv  Brougham,  v,  467. 
Seats,  School  Architecture,  xvii,  37. 
Seating  Pupils,  xvii,  304  ;  xix,  464. 
Seber,  F.  J.,  Gymnasium  of  Cologne,  xvii,  458. 
Secession  Movement  in  Scotland,  xxii,  458. 
Secession,  War  of.  Relations  to  Schools,  I.  S. 
Seeker,  Archbishop,  Educational  Views, 
Secondary  Schools  in  City  Svstems,  xix.  907. 
Secondary  School  Teachers,  how  Qualified,  xiii,  307. 

Belgium,  xxii,  394. 

Germany,  xxii,  841,  818. 

France,  xx,  322. 

Scotland — University  Chairs,  I.  S. 
Secondary  Instruction,  defined,  S.  V.  16. 

European  Systems,  xvii,  32;  #te  Austria.  Ac. 

European  Insts.,  xvii,  32;  fee  Gymnasia,  Lycee. 

American  Systems,  S.  V.  448;  xvii,  32. 

American  Institutions,  xvii,  32;  ne<.j  Academy, 
High  School.  Seminarv. 
Statistics  prior  to  1800,  xxiv  835. 
In  184*,)  and  '50,  v,  857,  862;  xxiv.  171. 
In  1860,  S.  V.  321. 
In  1867,  xix,  907. 
In  1875,  S.  V. 
Secret  Societies— German  Universities,  vii,  52. 

American  Colleges. 

Sectarianism  and  the  Public  Schools,  xix,  451 ;  I.  S. 
Segassar,  Education  and  the  Family,  xx,  90. 
Seogwick,  Catharine  M..  xvii.  25.  [414. 

Sedgwick,T..  Scientific  Institution  for  Mass.,  S.  V. 
Se.-uiL'.  Art  of,  xxiii,  289. 
Set-ley.  J.,  Liberal  Education  in  Universities,  I.  S. 

Dangers  of  Competitive  Examinations,  I.  S. 
Self-Education,  Helps  to.  xxiii.  969.  [469. 

Self  Activity.  Aim  of  Discipline,  xxiii.  15,  233;  1.  S. 
Self-Denial,  xxiii.  *>•>.  <W>9;  I.  S.  515,  518. 
Selling,  W.,  First  Teacher  of  Greek  at  Cambridge. 

Semler^  C.,  Real  School,  v,  691 ;  xix,  630. 

Seminaries,  Theological  v,  88-1 ;  xviii,204;  S.V.  558. 
Teachers  of  Gymnastics,  xvii,  831. 


!  Seminarv,  Term  as  applied  to  Education,  I.  8. 
!  Senate,  University,  xix.  665: 
Seneca.  Educational  Views,  xvii,  25;  xxiii,  969. 
Senior  Wrangler— Cambridge  Examinations,  I.  S. 
Senses,  Training  of,  v,  884;  xix.  907. 
Sentence-Method,  in  Language  Teaching,  I.  S.  538. 
Sentences  of  Peter  Lombard,  xxiv.  767. 
Sententiarii,  or  Cursores,  vi,  26;  xxiv,  117. 
Se_':i-s.-ir.  Education  belongs  to  the  Family,  xx,  90. 
Sequin.  E  ,  Treatment  of  Idiots,  xvii,  25. 
Serfdom  and   Slavery.  Abolition,  and  Education, 

xx,  775;  xix,  9J7. 

Sessional  Schools,  in  Scotch  System,  xxii.  -Jf,s. 
Seton,  S.  S.,  School.-  as  they  were,  xvii,  555. 
Seven  Liberal  Arts,  xiv,  177;  xxiv,  521. 
Sevigne,  Madame— Letter-writing,  xxiii,  886. 
Sewal,  School  at  Radleiuh,  v.  884.      [643 ;  xix,  907. 
Sewing  in  School,  and  Sewing  Schools,  v,  884;  x, 
Sex  in  Education.  Recent  Discussion,  1.8. 

Defoe  revived,  I.  S.  427. 

Sexes,  Coeducation,  v,  884;  xvii,  .385.  [495. 

Sexes,  Cooperation  in  Social  Work,  Jameson,  iii, 
Sexes,  Separation  in  Schools,  xx,  776. 
Seymour,  Daniel,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Shakspeare,  xxiii,  969. 
Shaw,  John  A.,  xvii,  695. 
Shea,  J.  (».,  Catholic  Colleges  and  Schools  in  the 

United  States,  ii,  435;  I.  S. 
Shearman,  F.  W..  Schools  in  Michigan,  ii,  510. 
ShelhYld.  -lo-eph  E..  Benefactions,  S.  V.  217. 
Sheffield  Scientific  School.  S.  V.  141.  217,  570. 

Plan  of  Studies.  Examinations,  ^c.,  S.  V.  223. 

Building  and  Equipment.  S.  V.  227. 
Sheldon,  E.  A.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Object  Teaching,  xvii.  25. 
Sheldon,  W.  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
Sheldoman  Theatre,  Oxford,  Dedication,  I.  S. 
Shenstone,  W..  The  Schoolmistress,  iii,  449. 
Shepherds,  School  for,  xxi.  574. 
Sherman.  Ruger  M.,  Connecticut  Schools,  v.  884. 
Sherwin.  Thomas.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  viii,  461. 
Shields,  W.,  Teacher  of  Economic  Science,  xxii, 
j  Ship-building,  Schools  for,  xxiii,  969.  [178. 

Shiplev,  Founder  of  Society  for  Arts,  xxiii,  33. 
Shippcn.  E..  School  Houses,  xxiv,  601. 

Hollingsworth  School,  605. 
Shircfi",  Emily,  A.  C..  Girton  College,  I.  S. 
Shoeburyness,  School  of  Gunnery ,"xxiii,  616. 
Shuttleworth.  Sir  J..  xvii,  25. 
Slmriliff.  N.  B.,  Boston  Latin  School,  xvii,  25. 
Shrewsbury,  School  in  1561.  xxiv,  435.  [I.  S. 

Meaning  of  "Free"  as  applied  to  this  School, 
Siam,  xviii,  821. 

Sibley,  Hiram.  Workshop  for  Cornell  Un.,  xxii,  264. 
Sicard,  Deaf-mute  Instruction,  ii,  145; 
side  Schools,  in  Scotch  System,  xxii.  266.          [69. 
Sidney,  Sir  Henry— Letter  to  Son  at  School,  xxiii, 
Sidney.  Sir  Philip.  Letter  on  Travel,  xxiii,  262. 
Sieber,  J.,  School  Reform,  xxiii,  401. 
Sigourney,  L.  H.,  as  a  Teacher,  v.  884;  xxiii.  911. 

Cultivation  of  the  Sense  of  Beaut  v,  x,  731. 
silence.  Time  for— Chatham  and  Carlyle,  xxiii.  W.i. 
Silence  and  Whispering  in  school,  v,  631;  xxii,  911. 

Silesia.  School  Reform,  xvii,  831. 

Felbiger,  xx,  776. 

School  (  ode  of  Frederic  II.  1764.  xxii,  861. 

Adams'  (J.  Q.)  Account  of  in  1804,  xvii,  125. 
Siljestrom,  P.  A.,  Labors  in  Sweden,v,  884 ;  xxii,  700. 
Sill.  I).  M.  B  .  Memoir,  xvii.  3l». 
Silk-worm  Culture,  xxi,  806. 
Silliman,  Benjamin,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  8. 

Contributions  to  American  Science,  i,  641. 
Simultaneous  Method,  xvii,  29. 
simsoii.  Rector  of  Perth  School  In  1500.  xxii,  911. 
Simonson,  L.,  Cadet  System  of  Switxerl'd,  xvii,  25. 
Sin-in*,'  and  Vocal  Culture  in  School,  v,  887,  876; 

xvii,  28;  xx,  776. 
Singing  Associations,  xx.  776. 
Sisterhoods— for  Teaching  in  Catholic  Ohudt,  I.S. 
M-ters  of  Charity,  v.  884:  Vincent  do  Panl,  I.  S. 
Site,  for  a  University,  xxiv,  23,  24. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SE11IKS. 


79 


Sixth  Form,  in  Rugby,  iv,  566. 

Hoole's  Grammar  School  1650,  xvii,  290. 

Woolsey's  Studies  for  1529,  vii,  490. 
Slacle,  W.,  Education  in  the  West,  xvii,  25.       [907. 
Slavery,  Relations  to  Schools  and  Education,  xix, 
Sleep,  Attention  to,  by  Students,  v,  884;  xxiii,  869. 
Slow  and  Sure— Hasten  Slowly,  I.  S.  462,  443. 
Small,  Prof.,  Jefferson's  Teacher,  I.  S. 
Smattering  of  Knowledge,  xxiii,  969. 
Smiles,  S.,  Thrift— Self-help— Character, 
Smith,  Adam,  xvii,  25;  xxii,  911. 
Smith,  African  School  at  Boston,  xix,  .357. 
Smith,  Bishop,  Visit  to  Radleigh  School,  xvii,  25. 
Smith  Charities,  Agricultural  School,  &c.,  I.  S. 
Smith,  Elbridge,  Norwich  Free  Academy,  iii,  208. 
Smith,  Francis  H.,  Virginia  Military  Institute,  xxiii, 
Smith,  Goldwin,  xxiii,  4(58.        [823;  S.  V.  477,  556. 
Smith,  II.  B.,  Dutch  Universities,  xvii,  25. 
Smith,  Gerrit,  School  for  Blacks,  xix,  367. 
Smith,  Miss  Sophia,  and  Smith  College,  I.  S. 
Smith,  Sidney,  xiii,  12;  xxiii,  442;  I.  S. 
Smith,  Sir  Thomas,  v,  8»5;  1.  S. 
Smith,  Walter,  Drawing  in  Mass.,  xxiv,  277. 
Smith,  WTilliam,  at  Cheshire,  xvii,  557. 
Smith's  Prizes,  Cambridge  Examinations,  I.  S. 
Smithson,   and  Smithsonian  Institution,   v,  885; 
Snell,  E.  S.,  Gyroscope,  v,  885.  [xviii,  822. 

Social  Influence  of  Good  Schools,  xxii,  911, 
Social  Life  in  Greece,  xxiv,  842. 
Soleure,  Cantonal  System,  xxii,  776. 
Society  of  Arts,  London,  v,  885;  xxii,  911. 
Socrates,  Educational  Views,  xvii,  25 ;  I.  S. 
Socratic  Method  of  Instruction,  xvii,  29. 
Somerville,  Mrs.,  Lesson  of  her  Life,  I.  S. 
Sophists,  Service  to  Higher  Culture,  xxiv,  842. 
Sorbonne,  College  of,  xxiv,  751. 
South  American  States,  Educational  Status,  I.  S. 

Lessons  for,  drawn  from  Experience  of  U.  S., 
South  Carolina,  v,  885;  xviii,  822.  [xvi,  533. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  99;  xxiv,  720. 

Common  Schools,  xvii,  31;  xxiv,"  842. 


Negro  and  Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  908. 

Teachers'  Association,  xvii,  36. 
South  Hartley,  Mt.  Holyoke  Seminary,  x,  660. 
South  Kensington  Museum,  xxii,  911. 

Art  School,  xxii,  111. 

Educational  Library  and  Equipment,  xxii,  89. 

National  Portrait  Gallery,  xxii,  92. 

Science  and  Art  Department,  xxii,  49. 
South,  Robert,  Education,  xxiii.  92. 
Southey,  R..  Knowledge  and  Wisdom,  xxiii,  99. 

Domestic  Education  of  Daniel  Dove,  xvi,  433. 
Spain,  xviii,  822;  xxi,  787:  xxiii,  970. 

Early  Christian  Schools,  xxiv,  842. 

Arabic  Culture  and  Schools,  I.  S. 

Alfonzo  X— Code  of  1254,  Schools,  I.  S. 

Elementary  Schools,  xxiii,  970, 

Secondary,  970. 

Superior,  970. 

Special— Polytechnic  and  Technical,  xxi,  778. 

Military  Schools,  xxiii,  655. 
Speaking,  Fluent,  how  acquired,  xxiii,  162. 
Sparta,  and  Spartan  Education, v,  885;  xxiv,  453. 
Sparing  the  Rod,  Doctrine  of,  I.  S.  336. 
Spelling,  Methods  of  Teaching,  v,  885;  xvii,  29; 

xix,  908;  xx,  776;  xxii,  429. 
Spencer,  J.  C.,  Education  of  Teachers,  xvii,  25. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  Thoughts  on  Education,  xvii,  25. 
Spilleke,  Realistic  Instruction,  xix,  (533. 
Spinning  Schools,  xxi,  806;  Boston  in  1720. 
Spitzhart,  Comic  Pedagogic  Journey,  v,  507. 
Spicer,  A.  C.,  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Sprague,  W.  B.,  Influence  of  Yale  College,  xvii,  26. 
Springfield.  111.,  Public  Schools,  xix,  908. 

Plan  of  Building  for  High  School,  xxiv,  583. 
Springfield,  Mass..  Public  Schools,  xix,  908. 
Sports  and  Pastimes,  xvii,  29;  xxiii,  970. 
Spurzheim,  Mutual  Instruction,  x,  611;  I.  S. 


St.  Andrews,  University,  xxiv,  803. 
St.  Cyr— Military  School,  xii,  225;  xxiii,  951. 
1  St.  Cyran.  and  Port  Royal  Schools.  I.  S. 

St.  Gall,  Cantonal  School  System,  xx,  776. 
j  St.  Gall,  Abbey  and  Christian  School,  xxiv,  539. 
]  St.  Leonard's  College,  Course  of  Study  1570-84,  xxii, 

Plan  of  the  Abbey,  I.  S.  [805. 

St.  Louis,  Public  Schools,  v,  885;  xix,  908. 

Plans  of  School-houses,  xxiv,  842. 
|  St.  Mary's  College,  Winchester,  xvi,  501. 
St.  Paul's  School,  London,  xvi,  (567. 
St.  Petersburg,  Imperial  Schools,  xxi,  807. 

Museums,  xxi,  733. 

University,  xx,  510. 
St.  Nicholas  Institution.  Paris,  v,  885. 
Staff  Officers,  Special  Schools  for,  xii,  736 ;  xxiii,  970. 
Stanley,  Lord,  Popular  Lyceums,  iii,  240. 
State  Charitable  Instituiions,  xviii,  806; 
State  and  Education,  xvii,  18 ;  v,  885 ;  xx,  776. 

Associations,  xvii,  3(5. 

Inspection,  v,  871 ;  xx,  772. 

Supervision,  xxiv,  842. 

Support,  v,  885;  xvii,  31;  xix,  401. 

Appropriations,  xxiii,  23;  xxiv,  249. 

Taxation,  v,  885;  xxiv,  249. 

Limitations  on  Exercise,  xx,  90. 
State  Teachers  Associations,  Hist.  Dev.,  xv,  825. 

Rhode  Island  Institute.  Dec.,  1844  ;  xiv,  559. 

New  York  State  Assoc'n,  July  3, 1845 :  xvi,  349. 
Statesmanship,  School  of  Public  Life,  xxiv,  20. 
Statistics  of  Schools,  v,  884;  xvii,  831;   xix,  809; 

xx,  776;  xxiii,  405. 
Staupitz,  J.  von,  xxiv,  117. 
Steam  Marine  and  Iron  Clads,  xxiii,  970. 
Stearns,  E.  S.,  Normal  Schools,  xvii,  661,  669. 
Stebbins,  One  Hundred  Years  Progress,  U.  S.,  S.  V. 

Education  and  Schools— Barnard,  347.        [345. 

Religious  Denominations,  589. 
Steele,  Sir  Richard,  Flogging,  xxiii,  345. 
Steffens,  as  Teacher,  vii,  71. 
Steinmetz,  Kloster-bergen,  viii,  357. 
Stevens,  L.,  Prussian  Schools,  xxii,  830. 
Stevens,  Institute  of  Technology,  xxiii,  970. 

Plans  of  Building,  xxiii,  970. 
;  Stiles,  W.  II.,  Schools  in  Georgia,  xvii,  26. 
I  Stock,  Rev.  T.,  Sunday  Schools,  iii,  788. 
I  Stone,  E.  M.,  Educational  Work,  I.  S. 
Story,  Joseph,  Harvard  as  it  was,  xvii,  190. 
Stow,  David,  Memoir  and  System,  I.  S. 

Gallery  Training  Lessons,  ix,  412. 
Stowe,  C.  E.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  v,  586;  xvii,  26. 

Teachers  Seminaries,  xv,  688. 
Strafford.  Lord,  Letter  to  his  Son,  xxiii,  73. 
Street,  Augustus  R.,  Benefactions  to  Yale  College, 
Strength  and  Flexibility,  xii,  679,  683.     [xxiv,  452. 
Student  Life  in  Different  Universities,  I.  S. 
Students'  Orders  in  1748,  xvii,  56. 

Relations  to  Landsmanshaften,  vii,  728. 
Studies  and  Conduct — Advice  on,  xxiii, 
Studies,  Conflict  of— Todhunter,  I.  S.  529. 
Studies,  Relative  Value,  xxiii,  970;  xxii,  911. 

True  Order,  xvii,  29. 
Stadium  Generate,  xxii,  304. 

Relations  to  University,  xxii, 
Study,  Methods  of,  xxiii,  967. 
Stuttgardt,  Public  Schools,  xxi,  801. 

Science  University,  xxi,  364* 

Sturm,  John— Memoir  and  System,  xvii,  26.  [468. 
Suetonius,  Rhetoric  and  Grammar  at  Rome,  xxiv, 
Sullivan,  Premiums  for  Knowledge  of  Common 

Things,  x,  93. 

Sunday,  Observance  of,  by  Children,  xiii,  100. 
Sunday  Schools,  German,  xix,  621:  xx,  776;  xxi, 

American,  ii,  565;  v,  885;  xv,  705;  S.V.     [807. 

English— Stock,  iii,  798;  x,  329. 
Sunday  School  Union,  xv,  705.  [I.S. 

Supplementary  Schools,  v,  &S5 ;  xix,  908:  xx,  776; 
Support  of  Public  Schools.  Hist'ly  Considered,  I.  S. 

Parental  Payments,  v,  879,  881;  xi,  267;  xvii, 
833;  xx,  776:  xxii,  907;  xxiv,  672. 

Local  Subscription,  S.  V.  347. 


80 


t.t.NKRAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Taxation—  Local  and  State,  v,  885;  xi,  309;  xiii, 
78*5;  xvi.  629,  793;  xix,  633. 

Income  Of  Endowments.  v.  8S3;  xi,  021. 

Examples,  v.  885;  xiv.  8-25;  xx,  769. 
Supervision,  v,  885;  xvii,  831  ; 
Swearing.  I.  S.  427,  436. 
Sweden^  xxi,  807;  xviii,  822:  xxii,  697. 

Elementary  Schools,  xvii,  31  ;  xxiii,  G36. 

Sen.  nil;iry;  \\i.  ';:{<•;  xxii,  705. 

Superior,  xxiv,  843. 

Technical,  xxi,  807. 

Teachers'  Seminary,  xxiii,  704. 
Swedenborgian.  or  New  Church.  S.  V.  654. 
Swett.  John.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Public  Schools*  in  California,  xvi,  625. 
Swett,  S.  R.,  Temporary  Normal  School,  xv,  396. 
Swieten,  Gerhard  von,  Au>irian  School  Keform, 

xvii,  131  ;  I.  S. 

Swimming,  xii,  271  :  xvi.  796. 
Switzerland  (General),  xvii.  31  ;  xviii,  822. 

Public  Instruction,  Cantonal  Systems,  xx,  32. 

Real  Schools,  xx.  773. 

Military,  xxiii,  705. 

Technical,  xxi.  737. 

Recent  Legislation,  xvii,  527:  xxiii.  633. 
Sword-knot  Ensigns.  Schools  for.  xii.  289. 
Sybel,  Prof,  von,  German  Universities,  xvii,  595. 

Contrasted  with  French.  595. 

Contrasted  with  English.  596. 
Sympathy  with  Pupils.  Teachers,  I.  S.  469,  513. 
Svndictis.  xx.  911. 
Synod  of  Teachers  in  Switzerland,  xvii,  &32. 

T.  H.  Guide  for  the  Child  and  Youth,  xiii,  205. 

Illustrated  Alphabet.  206. 

Child's  Behavior,  from  Morn  to  Night,  2<»8. 
Tabarou,    LaMartiniere    Method    of  Instruction, 
Tablet  of  Honor,  v,  885.  [xxi,  486. 

Tacitus.  Educational  Views,  xxiv,  843. 
Taeye.  M.,  Art  and  Drawing  in  Belgium,  xxi,  807. 
Tafel,  I.,  Hamiltonian  System,  vi.  .V.n. 
Tailors'  Academy,  Dresden,  xxi,  330. 
Tainsch,  C.  C.,  Crime  and  Education,  xi,  77. 
Tait,  Head  Master  at  Rugby,  I.  S. 
Talking  and  Teaching,  xxiv.  519. 
Talleyrand,  School  s\>tem  for  France,  xx,  776. 
Taneeff.  Plan  of  Public  Schools  for  Russia,  xx,475. 
Tangmar,  Master  of  Hildersheim,  xxiv,  351. 
Tanya,  Schools  in  Hungary,  xvii.  176. 

j>;m.  Henry  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xiii,  641. 


Tapp 


Educational  Development  of  Europe,  i,  247. 

Presidency  of  Michigan  University,  xiii.  641. 
Tnppan,  Master,  Letter  of  Webster,  xvii,  218. 
Tarbox,  I.  W.,  American  Education  Society,  xvii, 
Target-Shooting.  I.  S.  428.  [26. 

Tartar.  Schools,  xx,  481. 
Tasks,  for  Home  Prei>aration,  I.  S.  507. 
Taste  and  Morals,  xi.  231. 
Taste,  Faculty  of,  Hi,  59. 
Taste,  in  Art,"  National,  xix.  910. 
Tata.  Giovanni.  Juvenile  Asylum  in  Home,  v,  866. 
Taller.  Picture  of  the  Ladies"  College,  1743,  I.  S. 
Taulor,  John  of  Cologne,  xxiv,  888.  [776. 

Taxation  for  School  Purposes,  v,  885;  xv,  283;  xx, 

Amount  of.  v.  885;  xix,  623;  xxiv,  249. 

Historical  Review  and  Summary.  I.  S. 
Taxonomy,  or  Classification  of  Plants,  xxiii,  471. 
Taylor,  Henry.  Wisdom—  Money.  x\iii,  970. 
Taylor,  Isaac".  Home  Education,  I.  S. 
Taylor,  Jeremy.  Manly  Element  in  Edc'n,  xxii,  87. 
Taylor.,1.  O..  Slcmoir  and  Common  School,  xvii,  39. 
Teacher  and  Parents—  Everett,  vii.  348. 
Teacher  and  Scholar,  Personal  Relations,  I.  S.  511. 
Teacher,  The,  J.  Abbott,  v,  885. 
Teacher,  Letters  to  a  Young,  v,  885. 
Teachers.  Examination  in  Prussia,  xvii,  474.  a32. 
Teachers'  Institute's.  Historical  Develop.,  xv,  387. 
Teachers'  Motives,  xiv,  277. 
Teachers.  Professional,  v,  885:  xvii,  30.  832. 
Teachers'  Seminary,  Proposed  1561,  xxiv,  843. 

List  of  German,  xxii,  514. 


Teaching— its  End  and  Means,  Calderand,  I.  S.  497. 

Requisites  for  Success.  I.  S.  500. 

Growth  in  Massachusetts,  xvii.  832. 
Teaching  Orders  of  Catholic  Church,  xxiv,  843. 
Technical  Schools  and  Education,  xxi,  801. 
Teirernesr.  Monastic  School  of  994.  xxiv.  354. 
Temple.  F.  W.,  Classics  and  Discipline,  xxiii,  417. 

Defects  in  Mathematics  and  Physical  Science, 
Ten  Brook,  University  of  Michigan,  I.  S. 
1  Tennessee,  xviii,  822.' 84. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  100. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  886;  xvii,  31. 

Common  Schools,  xxiv.  843. 

!         Colored  Children,  Freeumen's  Schools,  xix,  910. 
Teachers'  Association,  xvii.  36. 
Agricultural  College.  S.  V.  571. 
Tennyson.  Alfred,  Woman's  Culture,  I.  S. 
j  Tenure  of  Teachers'  Office,  xxii.  I'.' ;. 
Terne  Films— Pra>varicator— Tripos,  I.  S. 
Terence,  Acting  of.  xvii,  319. 
Terre  Haute.  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  669,  823. 
Tessin,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  776. 
Texas,  xvii,  32:  xviii,  822. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  113. 

School  System,  xxiv,  843. 

Legal  Status  of  the  Negro,  xix,  26. 
Text  Book,  Selection,  xvii.  s-'tt. 
Text  Books,  v.  886;  viii,  624;  viii.  687;  xix,  610. 
Text  Books,  Catalogue  of  Barnard's,  xvii,  36. 

Anonymous,  xiv,  601. 

Author*.  A— G.  xiii,  209,  401,  626. 

Authors,  G— O,  xiv,  753. 

Authors,  O— Z,  xv,  540. 

Subjects— Classified  by,  I.  S. 

American  Authors  prior  to  1800,  S.  V.  521. 

New  England  Primer-Illustrations,  S.  V.  540. 

Webster's  Spelling  Book— Illustrations,  S.  V., 

Horn  Book— Fac-Simile.  S.  V.  5*).  [542. 

Orbis  SeiiMialium  Pictus.  xvii,  192. 

Early  KiiL'IMi  School  Books,  xxiv,  191. 
Timer,  A.,  Turning  System,  viii.  197. 
1  Timer,  A.  D..  Agricultural  Schools,  xxi,  205. 

Tharand.  Forestry  School,  xxi.  307. 
;  Thaver,  G.  F.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii, 584. 

Letter-  to  a  VOIIIIL'  Teacher,  xvii,  26. 

Chauncey  Hall  School,  iv,  613. 
1  Thayer,  S.,  Competitive  Examinations,  xvii,  26. 

School  of  Architecture  and  Engineering,  S.  V., 
i  Theodore  of  Tarsus,  xxiv,  843.  [278. 

!  Theological  Seminaries  in  U.  S..  S.  V.  477,  558,  586. 
Theolgy,  Faculty,  and  Schools,  v,  887;  xviii,  204 ; 
Thibaut.  Purity  in  Music,  x.  635.  [xx,  776. 

Thiersch,  F.,  Tribute  to  Pnissian  Schools,  xvii,  832. 
Thinkini:  Exercises,  xxii,  788. 
Thirty  Years  War,  Influence,  vii,  367;  xx,  743. 
Thonias-a-Becket,  at  Paris,  xxiv,  764. 
Thomas-a-Kempia,  v.  88(5.  [745. 

Thomason,  C.,  Lecturer  in  Vernacular,  xi,  622;  xx, 
Thompson,  A.,  Reform  School,  xvii,  26. 
Thompson,  B.  (Count  Rumford),  xxii,  37;  I.  S. 
Thompson.  D'Arcy,  I.  S.  539. 
Thompson,  J.  B..  Memoir,  xvii,  39. 
Tlmm' -on.  /..  Memoir,  xvii.  40. 
Thornton.  Spencer,  at  Rugby,  I.  S. 
Thoroughne>>  and  Superficiality,  xii.  491. 
Thoughts  and  Words.  Study  of,  xxiv,  786. 
Thrift.  Lessons  in.  Smiles.  1.  S. 
Thrin".  citations.  I.  S.  507. 
Tlmcydides.  xxiv,  843. 
Thurirovia.  Cantonal  System,  xx,  776.  [122. 

Teachers  Seminary  and  Agricultural  School,  xx, 
Thuriniria.  in  Luther's  time,  xxiv,  103. 

Plan  of  Schools  in  1528.  xxii,  536. 
Thin-day,  Non  Lecture-day,  xxii.  292. 
Thursday  Lecture.  Boston,  ix.  131. 
Tice.  J.  H..  Schools  of  St.  Louis,  i.  348. 
Ticknor,  George.  Educational  Work,  vii,  270;L8. 

Plan  for  Society  of  Education.  \*X>,  xv,  821. 

Journal  of  Education  in  1825.  ii,  24. 
Ticknor,  Khsha,  Boston  Primary  Schools,  v,  886. 
Tileston,  Master,  Boston  Teacher,  v,  886. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


81 


Tilden,  Caroline  E.,  xvii,  667. 

Time  Table,  xix,  910. 

Tilli'inont,  Pupil  of  Port  Royal,  I.  S. 

Tillinghast.  N.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  ii.  508. 

Timbs,  J.,  Endowed  Schools  of  England,  xvii,  26. 

Tiresome  Ways,  to  be  avoided,  I.  S.  540. 

Tirocinium,  Cowper's  Review  of  School?,  viii,  472. 

Titulary  Professor,  xx,  776. 

Tixior,  Jean  (Tcxtor),  School  Dialogues,  xvi,  445. 

Tobler.  J.  G.,  Pestalozzi's  Assistant,  v,  88(5. 

Todd,  Eli,  Memoir, 

Todd,  Henry,  Memoir  and  Benefaction,  iv,  711. 

Todhunter,  I.,  Conflict  of  Studies,  I.  S.  529. 

Toledo,  Public  Schools,  xix,  127. 

Tolland.  Conn.,  Schools  in  1830.  iv,  645. 

Topical  Method  in  Geography,  xix,  569. 

Topics  for  Discussion,  Educational,  i,  709;  xvii,  423. 

Toronto,  Canada,  Normal  School,  v,  886 ;  xiv,  483. 

Touch,  Sense  of,  how  Cultivated,  v,  473. 

Toulouse,  University,  xxiv,  15. 

Town  and  Gown — in  University,  xxiv,  494. 

Town,  I.,  Plan  of  Octagonal  School  house,  xvi,  728. 

Donation  to  Yale  College,  x,  694. 
Town,  Salem,  Schools  as  they  were,  xiii,  737. 
Town,  in  New  Eng.  System,  xy,  886;  xxiv,  265,  702. 
Toxophilus,  or  School  of  Shootinge.  Ascham,  iii,  40. 
Toys,  Uses  and  Construction,  I.e. 
Tracts,  Educational,  Barnard's,  xiv,  567. 
Trade  Schools,  Earliest,  xxi,  37,  101,  179. 

In  different  Countries,  xxi,  807;  xxii,  199. 
Trades.  Instruction  in.  Petty's,  1647,  xxii,  199. 
Tradescant,  J..  Founder  of  British  Museum,  xvii, 
Training  and  Natural  Power,  ix,  121.  [832. 

Training  and  Teaching,  v,  88(5;  xvii,  30,  832. 
Training  Schools,  xvii,  30,  832. 

English  System,  in  1875,  I.  S. 
Translation,  idiomatic,  v,  886;  Double,  iii,  29. 

Into  English,  i,  491 ;  x,  273. 

Transylvania  University,  iii,  217.  [175. 

Trask.  N.  B.,  Grammar  School  of  Dorchester,  xvi, 
Travel,  Educational  Uses,  vv886;  xxiii,  971. 

Practical  Suggestions,  xxiii,  971 ;  I.  S. 
Trent,  Council,  Episcopal  Seminaries,  I.  S. 
Trial  Lessons.  True  Test  of  Candidates,  xxii.  897. 
Trial  Year,  Pedagogic,  in  Austria,  xvii,  156 ;  Prussia, 
Triennium,  Bachelorship,  xiv,  177.  [xvii,  489. 

Trimmer,  Mrs.,  National  Schools,  x. 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  xxiv,  830;  I.  S. 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  Everett,  I.  S. 

Bentley's  Mastership,  I.  S. 
Trinity  College,  Hartford,  New  Buildings,  I.  S. 
Tripartite  Organization,  xvii,  29. 
Tripos,  and  Tripos  Paper— Origin,  viii,  313;  I.  S. 
Trivium,  v,  887  ;  xiv.  177. 
Trivial  Schools,  xx,  713 ;  xxiv.  100. 
Trogen,  Orphan  School,  iii.  590. 
Trojans  and  Greeks,  the  Old  Conflict.  [167. 

Trotzendorf,  V.,  Memoir  and  School  at  Gorlitz,  v, 
Troy,  Public  Schools,  xix,  910. 

'Rensselaer  School,  vi,  234. 

Willard's  Seminary,  vi,  142. 

Truancy,  Evils  and  Remedy,  v.  886 ;  xix,  910.     [21 7. 
Trumbull,  J.,  Schoolmaster  in  Prog.  Dulness,  xvii, 
Trumbull,  John,  Gift  of  Paintings  to  Yale,  x,  694. 
Trusts,  Educational,  xv,  &3,  112;  xvii,  37. 
Truth,  Law  of  Education  and  Science,  xxiii,  971. 

Bacon's  Essay.  I.  S. 
Tubingen  University,  History,  ix,  57. 
Tucker,  G.,  Education  Census,  1840,  xxiv,  171. 
Tuition,  in  Private  Schools,  v,  886.  [776. 

Tuition,  in  Public  Schools,  v,  887;  xix,  910;  xx, 

Holland,  xiv,  654.  719. 
Turgot  School.  Paris,  xxi,  540. 
Turin,  Public  Schools  and  Institutions,  v,  886. 
Turk,  Von,  Memoir  and  Beneficent  Work,  v,  886. 
Turkey,  v,  886;  xviii,  822. 

Public  Instruction,  xx,  5,  16,  777. 
Turnbull,  Public  Instruction  in  Austria,  ix,  589. 
Turnbull,  University  of  Glasgow,  xxiv,  813. 
Turner,  S.,  Reform  Schools,  iii,  772. 
Turners  and  the  State,  vii,  92. 

8 


Turning  System  in  Physical  Education,  xvii,  29. 
Tuscany,  Duchy,  xvi,  (597. 
Ttisser,"  School  Reminiscences,  I.  S.  328. 
Tutor,  Private,  vii,  728 ;  xxiii,  971. 

University  System,  v. 

Tweeddale,  Monitorial  Teacher,  1821,  x,  599. 
Tyndall,  J.,  Study  of  Physics,  xxiii,  971;  I.  S. 

Udal,  N.,  Discipline  and  Studies  at  Eton,  v,  886; 
Udalric  of  Augsburg,  xxiv,  350.  [xxiv,  434. 

Ulrich  of  Cluny,  Customary,  xxiv,  35. 
Unattached  Students  at  Oxford,  I.  S. 
Unbalanced  Mind,  and  Insanity,  v,  866. 
Unconscious  Tuition.  Huntington,  v,  866. 
Unconscious  Influence— Bushuell,  xxiii,  387. 
Understanding,  x,  132. 

Union  College,  xxiv,  161,  S.  V.  463,  552.  [545. 

Union  Graded  Schools  and  Buildings,  xvii,  37;  xxiv, 
Union  School  Districts,  v,  886;  xvii,  868;  xix.  897. 
United  States— General  Survey,  v,  887;  xviii,  828. 

Historical  Development  of  Schools  and  Educa 
tion,  v,  886 ;  S.  V.  345. 

Colonial  Legislation  and  Action,  S.  V.  349. 

Schools  as  they  were  prior  to  1800,  xxiv,  136. 

Schools  and  Colls,  in  each  State  1805,  xxiv,  159. 

School  Books  published  prior  to  1800,  S.V.  521. 

Schools  and  Colleges  in  1830— Edwards,  I.  S. 

National  Census,  Education,  1840,  xxiv,  171. 

Schools,  Academies,  Colleges,  Funds,  1850,  v, 
886;  xvii,  303,  132. 

Official  Exposition  of  Public  Schools  in  1856, 
ii,  465;  xvii,  31. 

National  Census  of  1860— Education,  S.  V.  121. 

Illiteracy  of  the  Different  States,  xix,  801. 

National  Census  of  1870— xxiv,  249;  S.  V. 

General  View  of  State  Systems  in  1873,  xxiv,  886. 

National  Department  of  Education,  xviii,  63. 
First  Annual  Report,  S.  V.  9. 
Special  Report  on  District  of  Columbia,  xix,  5. 
Special  Report  on  Technical  Schools  xxi,  9, 801. 
Special  Report  on  National  Education,  xx,  9. 

Bureau  in  Department  of  Interior,  S.  V.1 
Annual  Report,  1875,  S.  V.2 

National  Education — Washington,  xvii,  41. 

Views  of  Eminent  Statesmen,  xv,  5. 

Land  Policy  and  Grants  to  Schools,  xxiv,  164. 

National  Schools  of  Science,  S.  V.  127. 

National  Schools  and  Institutions,  xxiii,  971. 
Universal  Expositions  of  Industry,  xxii,  911. 
Universal  Suffrage — Universal  Education,  xix,  801. 
Universality  of  School  Education,  v,  635;  xix,  801. 
Universal  Education,  xvi,  795. 
University  and  Gymnasia,  xvii,  132. 
University — Defined  and  Described,  xxiv,  971. 

Historical  Development,  xxiv,  11. 

Greece — Alexandria — Rome,  xxiv,  453.          [5. 

Christian  Schools — Cathedral — Convent,  xxiv, 

Mediaeval  Universities— Italy,  France,  xxii,  273. 
Universities,  Chronological  List,  xxiv,  15. 
Universities  in  National  Systems,  xxi,  807. 

Germany — Raumer,  Dftllinger,  &c.,  xxiv,  11. 

Italy — Historical  Development,  xx,  181. 

France— University  of  France— Faculties,  xx, 

See  Belgium — Holland — Denmark — Norway — 
Sweden — Russia  —  Greece — Turkey — Spain 
—Portugal— England— Ireland— Scotland. 
Universities  and  Colleges  in  the  United  States,  v, 
863,  886;  xvii,  33;  xviii,  196;  xxiv,  837; 
S.  V.  458,  546. 

Unterwald,  Cantonal  System,  xx,  779. 
Upsala,  University,  xx,  755;  xxi,  711. 

Example  of  Deposition  in  1716,  vi,  37. 
Updike,  Wilkins,  xxiv,  843. 
Upham,  C.  W.,  Report  on  Academies,  xvii,  575. 
Urbino,  University,  xx,  777. 
Uri,  Cantonal  System,  xx,  777. 
Ursulines,  v,  887:  Schools,  I.  S. 
Uruguav,  xviii,  823. 
Uses  of' Knowledge,  xxii,  911. 
Useful  Knowledge  Era,  I.  S.  529. 
Useful  Knowledge  Society,  x,  333. 


82 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


Usher's  Dntv.  in  Grammar  School,  1659,  xvii,  225. 
Ushers  and  Tutors,  v,  886;  xx.  201  ;  xxiii,  971. 
Vtah  Territory,  v.  887;  xuii,  823. 
Utopia  —  Univcr-al  Education  —  More,  x,  327. 
Utrecht,  Early  Christian  School,  xxiv,  843. 
Utterance,  Instinct,  iii,  321. 

Vacation,  Rules  relating  to,  xvii,  832  ;  xix,  911  ;  xx, 
Breaking  up  for,  xvi,  7%;  xvii,  318.  [17!  . 

Uses  and  Enjoyment  of,  vii,  350; 

Vaccination,  Prerequisite  of  Admission,  xix,  911. 

Vagrancy,  Modes  of  Dealing  with,  iii,  818;  I.  S. 

Vail,  T.H.,  Hints  on  Reading,  xxiii,  215. 

Valais.  Cantonal  School  System,  xx,  777. 

Valentine,  T.  W.,  Memoir,  xvii,  40. 

Valla,  Laurentius.  Raumer,  vii,  728. 

Van  Dapneren.  Pestalozzian  in  Holland,  xiv,  648. 

Van  der  Ende,  Dutch  Schools,  xiv,  638. 

Van  der  Palm.  Memoir,  xiv,  641  ;  I.  S. 

Vanity  in  children,  xvi,  61. 

Van  Rensselaer,  S..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xi,  223. 
Troy  Scientific  School,  vi,  234;  S.  V.  400. 

Vashon,  Prof.,  Freedmen's  Schools,  xix,  911. 

Vassar,  M.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xi,  55. 

Vassar  Female  College,  xi,  55  ;  S.  V.  573. 

Vaud,  Cantonal  School  System,  xx,  777. 

Vaughan,  H..  Science  and  Language,  xxiii,  971. 

Vaughan,  H.  H.,  Oral  Teaching,  xxiv,  843. 

Vaus,  J.,  Latin  Grammar  1522,  xx,  456. 

Vehrli,  at  Hofwyl  and  Kruitzlingen,  xvii,  26. 
' 


Venerable  Socie'ty,  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,  S.V.  3. 

Venetia,  Schools  under  Austrian  Kale,  xvi,  689. 

Venezuela,  xviii,  823. 

Ventiduct,  xv,  803. 

Ventilation  of  Domestic  Dwellings,  y,  34. 

Ventilation,  Principles  and  Plans,  xiii,  872  ;  xvii,  37. 

Boston  System,  1849,  xv,  787. 

Double  Fire-Place,  xv,  804. 

Emerson,  ix,  546,  640. 

Leach,  ix,  568. 
Verbal  Realism  —  Raumer,  v,  657. 

Erasmus  Melancthon,  Taubman,  v,  658. 

Real  Realism,  v,  664,  673. 

Vercelli,  University,  xxii,  302.  [xxiv,  843. 

Vermont,  General  View,  xviii,  823;  'xix,  911. 

Historical  Development,  v,  887;  xxiv,  137,  159. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  90. 

Elementary,  xvii,  31  ;  xxiv,  322.  [467. 

Academies  and  Colleges,  v,  887  ;  xxiv,  843  ;  S.V. 

University,  S.  V.  467,  556. 

Agriculture,  S.  V.  201,  279,  571. 
Vernacular,  Instruction,  xvii,  276;  xx,  777  ;  xxii,  911. 
Verplanck,  G.  C.,  Memoir  of  D.  H.  Barnes,  xiv, 

513;  xxiii,  971. 

Versailles,  Normal  School,  xiii,  302. 
Versification,  xxiii,  425;  xxiv,  843;  I.  S.  461. 
Veterinary  Surgery,  Schools  of,  xx,  777;  xxi,  807. 
Vice,  Association  for  Discountenancing,  xv,  734. 

School-  EMaMished  in  Ireland,  xv,  734, 
Vicenza,  University,  xxii,  911. 
Victor,  Amadeus  II,  Benefactions,  iv,  844. 
Victor,  St.,  School  of,  xxiv,  769. 
Victoria,  xviii,  823. 
Vienna,  System  of  Public  Schools,  xix,  911. 

Military  Schools,  xxiii,  971. 

University,  xix,  683  ;  xx,  777. 

Lectures  in  1389,  vi,  54. 

Special  and  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  807. 

International  Exhibition,  xxiv,  834;  I.  S. 

Medal  of  Merit  to  American  Journal  of  Ed. 
Vilayet  (Turkish)  Schools,  xx,  777, 
Village  Improvements  —  Planting  Trees,  Lawn,  I.  S. 
Village  Lyceums  and  Museums, 
Village  Schools,  xx,  777. 

Villeinain.  Ministry  of  Public  Instruction,  xx,  302. 
Vincent  de  Paul.  Memoir  and  Life  Work,  I.S. 

Sisters  of  Charity,  Jameson,  iii,  501  ;  xvii,  35. 

Irish,  and  American  Orders,  —  Schools. 
Vincent  of  Beauvais,  xxiv,  766. 
Vincent,  of  Westminster  School,  I.  S.  829. 
Vinci,  Leonardo  da,  Drawing,  xxi,  807. 


Vine  Culture,  xxi,  8W.* 

Virginia,  y,  887;  xviii,  824;  xvii,  31,  34. 

Constitutional  Provisions,  xvii,  96;  xxiv,  722. 

Schools  as  they  were,  xiii,  872. 

Virginia  Comp'any  in  1619— Dust  and  Ashee. 

Early  Free  School  and  College,  xxiv,  843;  S.V., 

Elementary  School,  xvii,  31 ;  xxiv,  843.       [349. 

Jefferson's  Labors  for,  I.  8. 

Academies,  v.  887;  xxiv,  152 ;  S.  V.  4(57. 

Colleges  and  Universities,  v,  887 ;  xxiv,  152. 

y.ilitary  Institute,  xxiii,  971. 

Conventions  and  Associations,  xvi,  172. 

Colored  Population,  xix,  911. 
Viriville,  V.  de,  Public  Ins.  in  Europe,  xxii,  651. 
Virtue,  the  aim  of  Ed.,  v,  887;  xiii,  872;  xiv,  825. 
Visitation  Day,  in  Connecticut  Schools,  xvii,  223. 
Visitation  of  Schools  by  Parents  xix,  139. 
Visser,  Mixed  Schools  in  Holland,  xiv,  699. 
Visits.  Number  to  London  Institutions,  xxii,  911. 
Vitelli,  C.,  Italian  Scholar  at  Oxford,  1484, 
Vittorino  de  Feltre.  Eminent  Teacher,  vii.  487. 
Vitrier,  John,  Tribute  by  Erasmus,  xvi,  665. 
Vity.thum  Gymnasium,  v,  350;  xx,  77. 
Vives.  L.,  M'emoir  and  Educational  Views,  I.  S. 
Vocabulary,  School  and  Education, 
!  Vogel,  Leipsic  Burgher  School,  ix.  213. 

Female  Teachers  in  U.  S.,  v,  887. 
Vocal  Music,  x,  766,  767;  xix,  911. 

Historical  Development,  v,  887;  I.  S. 
Vocal  Culture,  School  of.  I.  S. 
!  Vocal  Physiology,  Bell,  S.  V.  896. 
Voice  Culture  lor  Officers,  xxiii,  971. 

Power  in  the  Teacher,  xiv,  844. 
;  Voltaire,  Letter  to  Rousseau,  v,  887. 
Volter,  L.,  Rescue  Insts.  of  Wurtemberg,  xxii.  .">'.»•>. 
Voluntary  System,  v,  559;  S.  V.  I.  589. 

English  Nonconformist. 

Church  of  En-land  Schools,  I.  S. 
Von  Massow,  Prussian  Schools,  xx,  354. 
Von  Zedlitz,  School  Board,  xx,  351. 

Wadsworth,  Daniel,  Benefactions,  x,  767;  I.  S. 
Wadsworth,  J.  S..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

School  Library  System,  v,  887;  xvii,  26. 

Distribution  of  School  Manuals,  v,  399,  405. 

Supporter  of  Common  School  Journals,  v,  404. 
Wait,  T.  B.,  Pub.  of  Am.  Jour,  of  Ed.  1825,  ii,  22. 
Waking  up  Mind,  Method— Page,  v,  822. 
Waldeck,  xviii,  824. 

System  of  Public  Schools,  xx,  651. 
Waldenses,  iv,  39. 
Waldo,  L.  P.,  xv,  832. 
Wales,  New  South,  i,  639. 

WTales,  William,  Severe  Disciplinarian,  I.  S.  333. 
Walker.  James,  ii,  653. 

Walker,  Mrs.  E.  S.,  Old-fashioned  Home  Life,  I  S. 
Walker,  Timothy,  and  Count  Rumlbrd.  I.  S. 
Walker,  W.,  Benefactions.  S.  V.  238;  1.  S. 
Wall  Lectures,  Disputations  in  Austin's,  I.  S. 
Walton,  G.  A.,  xxiv,  278. 
Wanderjahre  and  Leherjahre — Goethe,  xxiv,  9. 

Cultivation  of  Reverence,  xxiv,  10. 
Wandering  Scholars,  v,  887 ;  xxiv,  101.    [971 ;  I.  S. 
Wansey,  Visit  to  Yale  Col.,  in  1794.  S.V.I.,  461,971. 
Wantage,  Earliest  Endowed  School  in  Eng.,viii.  260. 
War,  Relations  to  Education,  xvi,  796;  xxiii,  971. 
Warburton,  Study  of  Mathematics,  xiii,  872. 
Ward,  Nathaniel."  Memoir,  I.  S. 

First  School  Law  of  Massachusetts,  xxiv,  702. 
Wardlow.  St.  Andrew's  University,  xxiv,  803. 
Ward  Schools  of  New  York,  xix,  911. 
Warming  Buildings— Modes,  xvii,  37,  855;  xxii, 

911;  xxiv,  844, 

I  Wartburg  Festival— Haiiiner.  vii,  728. 
Warton.  .1..  and  Winehi-ster  School,  xvi,  511. 
Wart  on,  T..  Progress  of  Discontent— College  Life. 
Waruick.  Countess.  Home  Life,  I.  S.  [I.  S. 

\\  fee.  ('..  on  Free  Schools  1698,  xxiv,  190. 
Wa-hliiirn,  Emory,  Normal  Schools,  xvii,  673. 
\\ashburn,  I.,  Workshop  in  Worcester  Institute, 
xxii,  261. 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


83 


Washington— in  American  Education,  xvii,  832. 

Legacy  of  Life  and  Character,  I.  S. 

School  and  Preparatory  Training. 

Legislative  Experience. 

Military  Career. 

Consolidating  the  Union. 

Civil  Services — Farewell  Address. 

Agriculturist— Letter  to  Overseer,  I.  S. 

National  and  Foreign  Estimate. 
Washington  City,  xix,  5.  912;  xviii,  824;  S.  V.2 

Selection  as  Seat  of  Government,  xix,  145. 

Census  of  Population— Hough,  xix,  16.        [49. 

Puhlic  Schools — Historical  Development,  xix, 
Plan  of  Reorganization— Barnard,  xix,  137. 

Columbian  College,  xviii ;  xix,  893;  S.  V.  556. 

Educational  Condition  in  1875,  I.  S.  [202. 

Washington,  Liberty  Hall,  College,  xvii,  48;  xviii, 
Washington,  and  Lee  College,  S.  V.  556. 
Wazon,  andJSchool  of  Liege,  in  10th  cent'y,  xx,  447. 
Water-color  Painting,  xxii,  811. 
Watkinson,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  40. 
Watson,  R.  Bishop,  University  Education,  I.  S. 
Watson,  W.,  Reform  Efforts  at  Aberdeen,  v.  88 ;  x, 
Watt  Institute  of  Arts,  Edinburgh,  xxii,  132.    1333. 
WTatt,  James,  xxii,  132;  xxiii,  971. 
Watts,  Isaac,  Reading,  xvii,  40,  128. 
Wayland,  Francis,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

'Intellectual  Education— 1830,  xvii,  26. 
Wayneflete,  W.,  Founder  of  Schools,  viii,  263 ;  xvi, 

668 ;  xvi,  668. 

Weaving,  Schools  for,  xxi,  807. 
Webb,  G.  J.,  Music,  iv,  144. 
Webster,  Daniel,  School  Life,  xvii,  218. 

Common  Schools— Normal  Schools,  xvii,  26. 

Religious  Element  in  Education,  I.  S. 
Webster,  J.,  Academiarum  Examen,  1669,  xxiv,  190. 
Webster,  Noah,  Schools  as  they  were,  xvii,  26; 
Suggestions  for  their  Improvement,  I.  S. 
Female  Education,  I.  S. 

Wecker,  Biblical  History  in  Mixed  Schools— Hol 
land,  xiv,  698. 
Wehrli,  Jacob,  Kruitzlingen,  iii,  389. 

Labors  at  Hofwyl,  x,  86. 

Weihenstephan,  Institute  of  Agriculture,  xxi,  127. 
Weimar,  Educational  Institutions,  xx,  777. 
Weise,  Education  in  England.  I.  S. 

Prussian  High  Schools,  xix,  626. 
Weissenfels,  Seminary  for  Teachers,  viii,  455. 
Welch,  A.  S.,  Memoir,  xv,  832. 
Weld,  Theodore,  Manual  Labor  Schools,  xvii,  26. 
WTellesley  Female  College,  I.-S. 
Wellington  College,  xxiii,  592. 
Wellington,  Duke,  viii,  257. 
Wells.  D.  T.,  Memoir,  xvi,  749. 
WellsJW.  H.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  26. 
Werner,  G.,  Institution  of  Reform,  xxii,  597. 
Werner,  Mining  School,  xxi,  907. 
Wesley,  J.,  Memoir,  and  College  at  Kingswood,  I.S. 
Wessel,  Agricola,  and  Hegius,  iv,  714. 
Western  College  Society— Baldwin,  xv,  261. 
Western  Institute,  xiv,  739. 
Westfield  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  832. 
Westminster  Assembly,  Shorter  Catechism,  S.  V. 
Westminster  School,  viii,  274.  [609. 

Discipline  of  Busby  and  Vincent,  I.  S.  329. 
West  Virginia,  xviii,  824. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii.  122. 

Public  Schools,  xxiv,  327 ;  xix,  912. 

Normal  School,  xvii.  806. 

Agricultural  and  Mechanical  Arts,  S.  V.  207. 
Weston,  E.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 
Westphalia — before  and  under  Prussian  Rule,  xx, 
Westpoint  Military  Academy,  xxiii,  971.  [387. 

Whately,  R.,  Annotations  on  Study,  xvii,  26. 
Wheelock,  E.,  Moor's  Indian  School,  v,  888;  S.  V., 

Dartmouth  College,  S.  V.  I.,  465.  [437. 

Whewell,  W.,  Mathematics,  xvii,  833;  xxiii,  971. 
Whisperintr  in  School,  v,  631 ;  x,  658. 
Whitaker,  Rules  for  Reading,  xxiii,  971. 
White,  Andrew,  and  Cornell  University,  xxii,  264. 


White,  E.  E.,  National  Bureau  of  Ed.,  xvii,  26. 

Normal  Schools  for  Ohio,  xvii.  795. 
White,  S.  H.,  National  Bureau  ofEducat'n,  xvii,  26. 
Whitbread,  Plan  for  National  System.  1807,  x,  329. 
Whitefleld,  G.,  Orphan  House  in  Georgia,  S.  V.  358. 
:  Whitford.  W.  C..  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xxiv,  136. 
I  Whitworth,  Sir  Joseph,  xxii,  911.  [xxii,  106. 

Scholarship  for  Science  and  Skill  in  Mechanics, 
Wichern,  J.  H.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  iii,  5. 

Rauhe-Haus  at  Horn,  iii,  9,  823. 

German  Reform  Schools,  xxii,  577,  907. 
j  Wickersham,  J.  P.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  39. 

Educational  Views,  xvii,  29. 
j  Wickersham,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xv,  676. 

Milleivyille  Normal  School,  xv.  221. 

Education  in  Reconstruction,  xvi,  283. 
I  Widow  and  Orphans.  Teachers,  xx,  777. 
;  Wife,  Choice  of.  xxiii,  971. 

Wilberforce  University,  xix,  912. 
j  Wilbraham,  Seminary,  vi,  300. 
Wilcox,  A.  F.,  Pioneer  in  Connecticut,  v,  64. 
Wilfulness,  I.  S.  519. 
Wilibroad,  School  at  Utrecht,  xxiv,  843. 
Wilbur,  H.  B.,  School  for  Feeble-minded,  v,  888. 

Object  Teaching,  xvii,  27. 
Wilclerspin,  S.,  Infant  Schools,  xvii,  26;  I.  S. 

Plan  for  Play  Ground,  ix,  531. 
Wiley,  C.  H.,  Schools  of  North  Carolina,  xvii,  26. 
Will.  Force  and  Control  of,  xvii,  29;  xxiii.  971 : 1.  S. 
Willard,  Mrs.  Emma,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  vi,  122. 

Plan  for  Improving  Female  Education,  1819.  vi, 

Troy  Female  Seminary,  vi,  145.  [137. 

Work  in  Common  Schools,  vi,  161.  [iv,  6. 

Association  of  Mothers  for  School  Supervision, 

List  of  Publications,  vi,  168. 
Willets,  S.,  Memoir,  xxiv,  443. 
William  of  Hirshau,  xxiv,  356. 
William  of  Champaux,  i,  256;  xxiv,  371. 
William  of  Coucher.  xxiv,  762. 
William  and  Mary  College,  xxiv,  152;  I.  S. 

Jefferson's  Plan  of  Reorganization,  I.  S. 
William  of  Wykeham,  Memoir,  xvi,  497. 

St.  Mary's  College,  Winchester,  xvi,  501. 
Williston,  S.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  I.  S. 

Seminary  at  East  Hampton,  v,  888. 
i  Wills,  of  Children— Basedow,  v,  511. 
I  Wilmington  Public  Schools,  xix,  129. 
1  Williams  College,  i,  405;  S.  V.  459. 
Willm,  J.,  Educational  Views,  xvii,  26. 
Wilson,  J.  M.,  Natural  Science  at  Rugby,  xxiii,  971. 
Wilson,  Rev.  T.,  The  Rod,  iii,  464. 
Wimmer.  Hermann,  xvii,  26. 

Public  Schools  in  Dresden,  xix,  912. 

Technical  and  Special  Schools  in  Saxony,  xxi, 
Wimpheling,  J.,  v,  882.  [289. 

Winchester,  St.  Mary's  College,  xvii,  32. 
Winderheim,  Mother-house  of  the  Hieronymiaus, 

1386,  iv,  625. 

Windsor  Forest  School,  Prince  Albert,  v,  688. 
Wines,  E.  C.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  40. 

Visit  to  Mettray  Reform  School,  xxiv,  730. 
Winona,  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  731. 
Winterbotham,  American  Schools  in  179(5,  xxiv,  135. 
Winterthur.  City  School,  xvii,  343 ;  xxi,  807. 
Winthrop,  J.,  Free  Schools  in  N.  England,  xii,  534. 
Winthrop,  R.  C.,  Books  and  Reading,  xxiii.  972. 

Winthrop  School-house,  v,  888;  vii,  264. 
Winton  Rod,  and  Winchester  Discipline,  xvi,  504. 
Wirt,  William,  Advice  to  Young  Men,  I.  S. 
Wisconsin,  v,  888;  xvii,  32;  xviii,  824. 

Constitutional  Provision,  xvii,  117. 

Common  Schools,  xxiv,  844. 

Academies,  v,  888;  xxiv,  171. 

Colleges,  v,  888;  xviii,  204  ;  S.  V.  556. 

State  University,  xvii,  832;  S.  V.  556. 

Agricultural  and  Mechanic  Arts,  S.  V.  211.  283. 

Normal  Regents— Normal  Schools,  xvii,  832. 

Association  and  Institute  of,  xvii,  36. 
Wisdom,  in  Conduct,  Authorities,  xxiii,  973. 
Wise  Men  of  Greece,  Characteristics,  xxiii,  972. 
Wise,  Henry  A.,  School,  in  Virginia,  xvii,  26. 


84 


GENERAL  INDEX  TO  NATIONAL  SERIES. 


\Vi-emnn.  Cardinal.  Educational  Views. 
Wittenberg,  University,  vi,  32,  320. 

Manner*  and  Moral-  in  Luther's  time,  vi.  36. 
Wohlforth.  Pedagogical  Trea-ure  Casket,  xvii,  28. 
Wolf.  F.  A.,  Memoir  and  Educational  Work,  vl,  S60. 

Characteristics  of  a  Lecturer,  vii,  203. 
Wolfomi:  of  Colomie,  xxiv,  844. 
Wol-ey.  Cardinal.  Educational  Munificence,  I.  S. 

Studies  for  Ips\vi«-li  (Jrammar  School,  vii,  487. 
Woman,  Pai?an  and  Christian  View  of,  xvii,  626. 
WomenJStadioua— Dupanloup,  xvii,  «23. 

Technical  Schools  for.  xxii.  -JOT;  xxi,  807. 

Early  C'liristian.  xxiv.  523. 

Traiiiinir  for  Social  Life,  xxiii,  383. 

Old-fashioned  Christian,  I.  8.  387. 

Schools  of  Design  for,  xix,  912. 

Inability  to  Write,  prior  to  1800,  I.  S. 

Colleges  and  Higher  Seminaries,  S.  V.  572. 
Wonder,  and  Curiosity— Russell,  ii,  121. 
Wood-carving,  School  of.  xxi,  807. 
Woodcock.  Plan  of  Seating  Schools,  v.  888. 
Woodbridge.  W.,  Female  Education,  xvii,  26. 
Woodbridge,  W.  C.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  30, 

Service-  to  (ieouraphv  and  .Music,  v,  56.     [832. 
Woods,  Dr..  Discipline  at  'Ruirby.  vii,  280 ;  I.  S.  831. 
Woodward  College  and  Ilitrh  School,  xvii,  506. 
Woodward,  II.,  Teacher  in  1000.  xvii,  190,  224. 
Woodward,  W..  Benefaction,  v,  888. 
Wooll,  Discipline  at  Rugby,  viii,  250. 
Woolwich,  Military  Academy,  xiv,  826 ;  xxiii,  972. 
Woolworth.  S.  B.,  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii.  40. 
Woolsey,  Theodore.  Educational  Views,  xvii,  20. 
Word-Method  in  Learning  to  Read,  xix,  912. 
Words,  Pope's  Strictures  on  Teaching,  xxiii,  337. 
Words  and  Tiling,  xxiii.  972. 
Wordsworth.  W.,  Educational  Views,  xxiii,  972. 
Worcester.  Public  Schools,  xix,  409. 

Earlt  Orirani/.ation  on  Modern  Plan. 

City  High  School— Plan,  xxiii,  972. 

Technical  Institute,  xxii,  258. 

Green  Public  Library,  xiii,  606. 

State  Normal  School. 
Wordsworth,  C.,  University  Life,  I.  S. 
Work  and  Study,  xxiii.  972. 
Work,  Habit  of,  xvii,  832. 
Workhouse  Agricultural  Schools,  xxii,  911. 
Working-Classes,  Education  for,  I.  S.  460,  488. 
Workingmen's  Colleges,  xxii,  76.  [xxii,  911. 

WTorkimnnen's  Visit  and  Report,  Paris  Exposition, 
Workshops  with  Technical  Schools,  xxi,  807. 
Workshops  and  Apprenticeships,  xxi,  802. 
World.  Knowledge  of— in  Public  Schools,  xxiii,  972. 
Worship  and  Education — Ministry,  xx,  777. 
Wotton.  Sir  Henry,  Memoir,  xv.  123. 

Philosophical'Survey  of  Education,  xv,  131. 
Wrangler — Cambridge  Examinations,  1739,  I.  S. 

Senior  Uptime— Junior  Uptimes.  I.  S. 

Senior  Wrangler  and  the  Smith  Prize,  I.  S. 
Wrestling  and  Athletic  Sports,  xvi,  491 :  xxiii,  972. 
Writrht,  Luther,  ii,  176. 

Writiii".  Subject  of  Instruction,  xix, 912;  xxii. 911. 
Writing  Schools  and  Writing  Masters,  xvii,  28,  832. 
Writing  and  Drawing,  xvii,  29. 
Writing  and  Reading — Raumer,  x,  627,  767. 
Pen  in  hand,  xvii,  29;  xxiii,  972. 
Jonathan  Edwards'  Practice,  I.  S. 
Writing  and  Speaking — Brougham,  xviii,  872. 
Wurtemberir.  General  Views,  xviii,  824;  xxi,  335. 
HistoricalAData— School  Code  of  1559,  xx,  053. 


Public  Instruction— Authorities,  xx,  660. 

Elementary  schools,  xx,  009,  680. 

Secondary  Schools,  xx,  709;  xxi,  375. 

Superior,"  xx,  768;  xxi,  337. 

Supplementary— Orphan— Rescue,  xx.  c,;n. 

Special— Poly  technical— Technical,  xxi,  338, 

Agricultural,  xxi,  339;  372.  [357. 

Industrial  Drawing,  317. 

Trade  Improvement  Schools.  353. 

Technical  University  at  Stuttgard,  i,  300. 

Normal  Schools— Association^  xx,  695. 

(ieneral  Summary  of  Institutions,  xx,  304. 

Statistics,  xx,  077,  726;  xxi,  337. 
Wurtx,  P.  J..  Reform  School  near  Straeburg.acdi, 
Wurxburg,  MUHC  School,  xxi,  126. 

University,  vii,  51. 

Wyatt,  Sir  T.,  Letter  to  Son  at  School,  xxiii,  972. 
Wyoming  Territory,  xviii,  824. 
:  Wyse,  Thomas,  xii'i.  :JH:J. 
Wyttenbach,  on  Daily  Reading,  xxiii,  972. 

Xenophon.  Educational  Views,  xxiv,  844. 
Ximeues,  Cardinal,  Alcala  University,  xxiv,  844. 

Y— Pythagorean  Symbol,  xxiii,  291. 
Yale  College,  Early  Hi-tory.  xvii.  33. 

In  1814,  xxiv,  167 ;  Science,  1.  S. 

Benefactors  down  to  1858,  x,  693. 
From  1858  to  1875.  I.  S. 

Influence  on  American  Life,  x,  080. 
Yale.  Elihu.  Memoir  and  Portrait,  xvii,  40. 
Yard  and  Outbuildings,  ix,  640. 
Year,  the  School,  xiii,  500;  xvii,  832. 
Veomans,  E.  L..  xiv,  826. 
Yorke,  Philip.  Lord  Hardwicke.  xxiii,  972. 
Young,  A.,  Philanthropic  Society,  v,  888. 
Young  Ladies'  Colleges  in  KM).  I.  S.  384. 

Defoe's  Project  in  1712,  I.  S.  428. 
Young  Men's  Christian  Union,  I.  S. 
Young  Men's  Institutes,  Lectures  and  Libraries. 
Young,  Samuel,  Schools  of  New  York,  ix,  505. 
Young,  T.  C.,  Infant  School  Manual,  xiii,  155. 
Young  Children,  xi,  622.  [vii,  146. 

Youth-  or  YoiiiiLr  Men's   Union,  Germany,  1826, 
Ypeilanti,  State  Normal  School,  xvii,  719. 

Plan  of  School-houses,  xxiv.  585. 
Yverdon,  Pestalozzi,  Labors,  i,  611. 

Zahn,  G.,  Reform  School  at  Zfillchow,  xxii,  603. 

Zeal — Earnestness,  in  a  Teacher,  xxiv,  57. 

Zedlitz  and  Prussian  Schools,  xvii,  832. 

Zeller.  C.  II..  Memoir,  iii,  386. 

Zeller,  Karl  A.,  Memoir,  vii,  305;  xx,  657. 

Zeno,  Educational  Views,  xxiv,  26. 

Zerrenner.  xx,  369. 

Zittau.  Gymnasium,  728. 

Zinzendorf,  Count,  v,  436;  I.  S. 

Zoology,  Subject  of  School  Study,  xxiii.  972;  xxiv, 

Museum  of  Cambridge,  ix,  013;  xxiv,  844. 
Zoroaster,  xvii,  26. 

Zschokke.  Educational  Views,  x,  767;  xvii,  26. 
Zug,  Cantonal  Schools,  xx,  139. 
Zurich.  Statistics,  xxi,  141. 

Public  Instruction,  xvii,  832. 

School  Code  of  1859,  xvii.  527. 

Polytechnic  School,  xxi.  743. 

Agricultural  School,  xvii,  359. 

UniverHty.  xvii,  300. 

Normal  School,  xvii,  361. 


Notice  of  any  important  omission,  or  error  of  reference,  in  this  Index,  will  be  thankfully  received 
by  the  Editor.  P.  O.  BOX  U,  HARTFORD,  CONN. 


ASCHAM,  BACON,  WOTTON,  MILTON,  LOCKE,  AND  SPENCER,  ON  EDUCATION.  Edited 
by  HENRY  BARNARD,  LL.  D.  1862. 

ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY  :  or  Education,  the  School,  and  the  Teacher  in  English  Literature— 
in  a  Series  of  Papers  prepared  for  "  Tke  American  Journal  of  Education"  Edited  bj 
HENRY  BARNARD,  LL.  D. 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY. 


A-B-C..  how  taught,  417,  306. 

Academy,  Milton's  Plan  of,  150,  181. 

Academicum  Nosocomium,  or  College  of  Health,  204. 

Acting  of  Plays— Bacon  and  Raumer  on,  92. 

Active  Amusements,  40. 

Activity,  Mental,  351. 

Ad  Clerum,  £>ermon  at  Cambridge,  173. 

Addison,  J.,  Sculpture  and  Education,  16. 

Admission  and  Matriculation,  172. 

Advice  of  W.  P.,  on  Trade  Schools,  197. 

Advices  to  his  Son,  by  Lord  Burleigh,  51. 

Choice  of  a  Wife,  52. 

Education  of  Children,  52. 

Country  Home,  52. 

Hospitality  to  Friends,  53. 

Borrowing  and  Suretyship,  53. 

Litigation  with  the  Poor,  53. 

Conduct  towards  Rank,  53. 

Conversation.  53. 
jEsop's  Fables  in  Latin,  308. 
^Esthetics,  39. 
Affectation  in  Manner,  251. 
Agriculture,  Plan  of  College  of,  191. 

Professors  in  University,  190. 

Suggestions  by  Cowley,  100. 

Hiirtlib,  188,  191, 
Milton,  182. 
"  Petty,  189. 

"  Locke,  337. 

Air,  exercise  in  open,  229. 
Allurements  to  learning,  71. 
Alphabet,  how  taught,  306,  417. 
Amusements,  397. 
Anger,  in  parent  or  child,  364. 
Animals,  cruelty  to,  287. 

training  of,  345. 
Annotations  on  Bacon's  Essay  on  Education,  96. 

"  Studies,  104. 

Antiquity,  Bacon's  Estimate  of,  85. 
Architecture,  183. 
Aphorisms  on  Education,  11,  137. 
Archery,  39,  43. 

Archimedes,  application  of  Aphorism  of,  142. 
Aristotle,  38,  41,  117. 

Value  of  Pastimes,  41. 

Style,  38. 

Influence  of,  117. 

Bacon's  opposition  to,  87. 
Arithmetic,  201,  323. 
Arts,  Degrees  in,  172. 
Ascham,  R.,  Memoir,  23. 

Toxophilus,  24,  39. 

The  Schoolmaster,  37. 

Interview  with  Lady  Jane  Grey,  32. 

Character  as  a  Teacher,  25. 

lt         Writer  on  Education,  38. 
"        Man,  38. 
As-terly,  J.,  55. 

Treatise  on  Riding,  55.  • 

Astronomy,  183,  J90,  324. 
Astronomical  Observatory,  190,  203. 
Athens,  Example  of  Right  Training,  66. 
Attention,  314. 
Aubrey's  Account  of  Milton's  Studies,  167. 

Of  Milton's  Whipping,  175. 
Austin,  S.,  Attainable  ends  of  Education,  20. 


Authority  in  Studies,  111. 
Aversion  to  Study,  292. 
Awe,  or  Reverence  of  Parents,  241. 
Aylmer,  28,  32. 

Bachelor  of  Arts,  173. 
Bacon,  F.,  Memoir,  77. 

Raumer's  Estimate  of  Philosophy,  77,  84,  93 

Estimate  of  Antiquity,  85. 

Goethe,  Criticism  on,  89. 

Opinion  of  Schools  of  the  Jesuits,  91. 

Genetic  Method,  90. 

Methods  should  vary,  90. 

Public  and  Private  Schools,  91. 

Acting  of  Plays,  93. 

Essay  on  Custom  and  Education,  95 
Studies,  103. 

Annotations  on,  96, 104. 
Bacon,  R.,  80. 

Barrow,  I.,  Idea  of  Education,  13. 
Beating,  55,  170. 

Anselm,  55. 

Ascham,  55,  64. 

Locke,  243,  260. 

Socrates,  62. 

Spencer,  369. 
Beds  for  children,  236. 

Behavior,  formed  by  Practice,  not  by  lectures,  252. 
Bent,  natural,  91,  107. 
Bible  on  Education,  308,  309,  330. 
Biology,  392. 

Birch,  scholastic  uses  of,  422. 
Blood,  quantity  and  quality,  354. 
Bodies  of  Children,  347. 
Bond  R.,  teacher  of  Ascham,  23,  405. 
Book-keeping,  339. 
Books,  108,  139,  463. 
Botany,  183,  190. 
Bowling,  as  Recreation,  44. 
Bristol  Diamonds,  404. 
Brain,  Influence  on  Bodily  Functions,  354. 
Bully,  the  School,  440,  461. 
Burleigh,  Memoir,  51. 

Advices  to  his  Son,  51.     See  Advices. 
Burke,  E.,  Education  of  Mankind,  17. 
Burton,  W.,  My  First  Teacher,  416. 
Butler,  Bishop,  16. 
Butler,  S  ,  425. 
Byron,  Lord,  425. 

Caeser,  70. 

Callimachus,  43. 

Calling,  or  Natural  Inclination  to  Pursuit,  107 

Campe,  209,  220. 

Cambridge  University,  23,  167. 

Milton's  Residence'at,  167. 

Classification  of  Students,  166. 

Terms  and  Daily  Routine,  169. 

Discipline,  170. 

Physical  Exercise,  171. 

Religious  Duties,  171 

Curriculum,  172. 

Quadriennium,  172. 

Degrees,  173. 

Trieimium,  174. 

Corporeal  Punishment,  170 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOcV 


Capacity  to  be  searched  out,  133. 
CnptiousneM,  302. 
Catechism.  :ton. 

Sir  VV..  44,  51. 
CensonousneM,  301. 
Ceremony,  302. 
Chaining' the  Dictionary,  404. 
Cl.ecke,SirJ.,48,55. 
Chemistry,  391. 
Chew,  29,  40. 
Chiding,  57,  246.  259. 
Child  M&owt,  947. 
Children,  the  Right  Bringing  Up,  56,  356. 

Special  Preparation  Tor,  356,  3U3. 
Chronology,  324. 
Chrvsostiim,  74. 
Cicero,  41. 

Citizen,  Knowledge  for  a,  396. 
Civil  Law,  325. 
Civility,  280.  289,  299. 
Classical  Lenrn ing,  57,218. 
Clothing,  Combe  on,  348. 

Liebig,  349. 

Locke,  230. 

Spencer,  248. 
Ciulow,  W.  B.,  16. 
Cold,  and  Growth,  348. 

Liebig,  349. 

Locke,.  227. 

Spencer,  348. 
Cold  Water,  228. 
Coleridge',  H.,  Life  of  Ascham,  23. 

S.  T.,  Characteristics  of  the  Teacher,  464. 
College  of  Agriculture,  190,  191. 
Color,  382. 
Combe,  A.,  346,  349. 
Comenius  nnd  Bacon,  94. 

Locke,  219. 

England,  189. 

Janua  Resernta,  179,  189. 
Commandments,  the  Ten,  219. 
Commands,  few  but  decisive  and  just,  369. 
Commencing  Master  of  Arts,  181. 
Commencement  Day,  173. 
Commendation,  14.").  245. 
Common-I'luce-Book,  74. 
Common  Sense,  or  Wisdom,  271,  299. 
Commentaries,  138.  • 

Company,  253,  304. 
Compendium^,  Kid. 
Competition  of  Business,  351. 
Complaints,  280. 

Complexion,  as  Indication  of  Tulent,  137. 
Composition,  328. 
Compulsion,  55,  259,  293. 
Condiments,  231. 
Conduct,  21X). 

Constructive  HabiU  of  Children,  207. 
Contempt,  301. 
Contradiction,  301. 
Cook,  Sir  A  ,  51. 

Corporeal  Punishment,  55,  170,  243,  422. 
Cowardice.  283. 
Courage,  284. 
Covetousness,  216. 
Cowley,  A.,  Memoir,  190. 

Plan  of  a  Philosophical  College,  190. 

Professors  Resident,  190. 
"          Itinerant,  190. 

Astronomical  Observatory,  190. 

Chemical  Laboratory,  190. 

Botanical  and  Zoological  Garden,  190. 

Course  in  Agriculture.  190. 

Military  Exercises,  190. 
Cowper,  W.,  Memoir,  433 

I. mo  on  his  Mother,  Home, and  School,  433. 

Tirocinium,  or  a  Review  of  Schools,  436. 

Discipline,  453. 

Cox,  W.,  Natural  Order  of  Knowledge,  19. 
';rnbhe,  G.,  Memoir,  455. 

The  Good  Schoolmistress,  421. 


Crabbe,  G..  the  School*  of  the  Borough,  454. 

Craving,  240,  277. 

Cruelty,  287. 

Crying,  281. 

Curiosity,  112,  279,  289. 

Custom  and  Education,  by  Bacon,  95. 

Stronger  than  Inclination,  or  Precept,  95. 

Examples  in  Training  of  Indians  and  Spartans,  95. 

Good  Habits  should  be  formed  Early,  96. 

Confirmed  by  Education,  96. 

Annotations' by  Whately,  96. 

Custom  and  Habit,  97. 

Biasing  the  Minds  of  Children,  97. 

Predominancy  of  Custom,  98. 

Power  of  Party-spirit,  99. 

Passage  from  Wish,  Hope,  Belief,  to  Action,  100. 

Indications  of  what  is  commonly  said  or  done,  101. 

Bacon's  Character  and  Career  an  example  of  Habl 
over  Precept,  102. 

Dancing,  44,  334. 

Darkness  and  Objects  of  Terror,  298. 

Dating,  Double  Mode  of,  167. 

Dejection,  or  Cowing,  243. 

Development,  353. 

Diary  of  a  Domestic,  quoted,  51. 

Dictation  not  Teaching,  25. 

Didactics,  referred  to,  by  Milton,  189. 

Diet  of  Children,  345. 

Milton,  185. 

Locke,  231 

Spencer,  345. 

Difficulties  should  not  be  multiplied,  313. 
Diodati,  Friend  and  Correspondent  of  Milton,  176. 
Discipline,  Nature's  Law  of,  358. 

Illustrated,  Consequences,  362. 

Influence  on  Parents,  369. 

Aim  of,  Self-government,  370. 

Conditions  of,  Successful,  37J. 

Picture  of  True,  by  Cowper,  453. 
Disgrace,  246. 

Disposition,  or  Liking  to  a  Study,  257. 
Distance  and  Reserve,  274. 
Disputation,  304. 
District  School  as  it  was,  416. 
Docendodisces,  25. 
Dominion,  or  Love  of  Power,  276. 
Double  Translation,  37. 
Drawing  and  Designing,  381. 

Petty,  201. 

Locke,  410. 

Drawing  out  of  the  Faculties,  11,  16. 
Drink,  233. 
Dull  Wits,  59,  99. 

Eaily  Moral  Influence,  237. 

Earlv  Stimulation  of  the  Facultie*,  352. 

Eating,  231,  345. 

Economics,  183. 

Educareand  Educere,  11. 

Education  and  Custom,  12, 13,  95,  100. 

Education  Defined,  11. 

Addison,  16. 

Ascham,  12. 

Austin,  20. 

Bacon,  12. 

Barrow,  12. 

Bolingbroke,  12. 

Butler,  16. 

Ciulow,  19. 

Cox,  19. 

Grole.  18. 

Hamilton,  15,  18. 

Harris,  16. 

Helps,  18. 

H(il>bs,  14. 

Hooker,  13. 

Johnson,  15. 

Lalor,  20. 

Locke,  14. 

Milton,  12. 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY. 


Education  Defined,  Paley,  17. 

Parr,  17. 

Pope,  14. 

Kamsden,  17,  19. 

Ruskin,  19. 

Shakspeare,  11. 

Short  13. 

South  13. 

Spencer,  388. 

Whately,  18. 

Whewell,  11 

Whichcote,  13. 

Wotton,  12. 
Education,  kinds. 

Abstract,  375. 

Agricultural,  191,  337. 

Academic,  163. 

Collegiate,  167. 

Empirical,  376. 

Governmental,  431. 

Home  256. 

Industrial,  199,  336. 

Intuitional,  377. 

Inevitable,  377. 

Natural,  19,  373. 

Privute,  213. 

Public,  131,  145. 

Pleasurable,  376. 

Real  and  verbal,  87. 

Rational,  376. 

Rote,  372. 

Rule,  372. 

Self-developing,  376, 
Education,  Processes. 

Building,  131. 

Direction,  18. 

Development,  11. 

Drawing  out,  11. 

Grafting,  18,  101. 

Growth,  16. 

Habits,  13. 

Husbandry,  132. 

Obedience  to  Law,  13. 

Preparation,  15. 

Restraint,  18. 

Self-activity,  376. 

Soundness  of  Mind  and  Body,  226. 

Sculpture,  16. 
Edward  VI.,  30. 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  28,  31,  69. 
Elmer,  Teacher  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  32. 
Emulation,  444. 
Encouragement,  244,  290. 
English  Language,  327,  328. 
English  Law,  326. 
Epitome,  75,  138. 
Epistolary  Composition,  327. 
Ergastula  Literaria,  200. 
Esteem  of  Others,  62,  222,  245. 
Eton  College,  Gray's  Ode  on,  431 
Ethics,  325. 

Example,  256,  263,  266,  448. 
Excuses,  296. 

Excursions  into  the  Country,  187. 
Exercise,  Physical,  37. 

Ascham,  37. 

Locke,  335. 

Milton,  185.  .. 

Spencer,  350. 
Experience,  366. 
Eye,  The,  135. 

Familiarity  of  Parent  and  Child,  273. 
Family  Management,  393. 

Knowledge  necessary  to  Learning,  393. 

Physical  Welfare,  393. 

Moral  "        393. 

Mental          "        396. 
Fancy,  or  Artificial  Craving,  277. 
Fatty  Matter  in  Food,  346. 
Fear  as  a  Motive  to  Study,  63. 


Fear  as  a  Motive  to  Study,  Ascham,  62. 

Locke,  264. 

Feet,  Treatment  of,  228, 
Fellenberg,  377. 
Fellow  Commoner,  168. 
Female  Education,  28. 

Queen  Elizabeth,  29. 

Countess  of  Pembroke,  29. 

Lady  Jane  Grey,  63. 
Fencing,  in  Military  Academy,  185. 

Locke,  335. 
Ferula,  405. 

Fiction,  Works  of,  without  religious  principle,  118. 
Field  Sports,  for  Literary  Men,  42. 
Fishing,  as  Recreation,  41,  43. 
Fool-hardiness,  283. 
Food  for  Children,  345. 

Excess  and  Restriction,  34^. 

Quality,  347. 

Quantity,  347. 

Variety,  348. 
Forcing  System,  372. 
Form,  381. 
Fortification,  183, 
French  Language,  311. 
Friendship  and  Coufidence  of  tl*e  Child,  273. 
Fruit,  346. 

Locke,  234. 

Spencer,  346.  *fi 

Fuller,  T.,  Memoir,  403. 

Holy  State,  cited,  43. 

Recreation,  43. 

The  Good  Schoolmaster,  403. 

Galen,  27,  40, 

Value  of  Active  Amusements,  40. 

Deprecates  excessive  attention  to  Music,  27. 
Galleries  of  Paintings,  203. 
Games,  350. 
Garden in«r,  337, 
Gedike,  220. 
Geography,  323, 
Geology,  120. 
Geometry,  383, 
-Ascham,  27, 

Milton,  183. 

Petty,  201. 

Locke,  313,  324, 

Spencer,  383. 

Wyse,  383. 

Primary,  383. 

Empirical,  384. 
Gilfillan,  416. 
Gill,  A.,  Teacher  of  Milton,  164. 

Logonomia  Anglica,  164. 
Girls,  Education  of,  270,  350. 

Petty,  207. 

Spencer,  350. 

Physical  Exercises  for,  350. 

Plays  and  Pnstimes,  350. 

Forcing  System,  354. 

Crabbe,  458. 
Globes,  324. 

Gnosticism,  Modern,  102. 
Goblins  and  Demons,  297. 
God,  the  Love  and  Reverence  of,  297. 
Goethe,  on  Bacon's  Method,  89. 
Good  Breeding,  139,  251,  299. 

in  Tutor  or  Teacher,  267. 
Good  Nature,  298. 
Government  of  Children,  265,  371 

Complex  and  Difficult,  371. 

Knowledge  for,  required,  371. 
Governor,  or  Private  Tutor,  265. 

Qualifications  and  Duties  of,  267. 
Grafting  of  a  Tree,  and  Education,  100. 
Grammar,  when  and  why  Taught,  317. 

Ascham,  70,  74. 

Locke  on,  316. 

Spencer,  373. 
Grant,  Dr.,  23 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY. 


Cray,  T.,  Memoir,  428. 

Ode  on  Eton  College,  438. 

Education  and  (Government,  431. 
Greek  Language,  25,  166,  IrtJ.  :o-J. 

Proverb,  Love  of  Learning,  \$. 
Grey,  I.mi\  Jane.  33. 

Interview  with  Asrhnrn,  32. 

Compliment  to  her  Teacher,  32. 

Letter  of  Ascham  in  Greek,  33 
Grote,  J..  18. 

Definition  of  Education,  IF 
Growth,  Expenditure  of  Vitality  in,  347. 

and  Development,  Antagonism  of ,  333. 
Gymnastics  und  Play,  351. 

Hnbit,  Force  of,  12.  13,  T4,249. 
Hubits,  Necessity  of  Forming,  16,  249. 

Formed  Insensibly,  99. 
Hndden,  W.t  54.      " 
Happi ness,  a  Tonic,  351. 

A  Test  of  Utility,  376. 
Hardening  Process,  Locke  on,  229. 

BpMMtT,  348. 
Hardiness,  286. 
Harris,  J.,  16. 
Hartynive,  405. 
Hartlib,  S.,  178,  188,  190. 

Preface  to  Plan  of  College,  131. 

Plan  of  .College  of  Husbandry  Learning,  192. 

Office  of  Public  Address,  199. 
Head   Covering  of,  227. 
Health,  226. 

A  Duty,  355. 
Heart  of' a  Nation,  17 
Helps,  A.,  18. 
Hermes,  quoted,  16. 
History.  Study  of,  119,325. 

Dwells  too  little  on  every-day  Life,  119. 

Studied  to  find  certain  Facts,  119. 
Hobbj,  T.,  14. 
Home  Education,  256. 

of  Milton,  Ml. 
Hood,  T..  Memoir,  465. 

The  In.ii  Schoolmaster,  465. 
Hooker,  K.,  on  Law,  13. 
Hoole,  Charles,  189. 
Horace,  cited,  97,  40.",. 
Hornbook,  425. 
Horseback  Riding,  40,  186. 
Howe,  Margaret,  Wife  of  R.  Aschara,  34. 
Humility,  302. 
Humoring,  or  Fondling,  237. 
Hunting,  43. 

Lord  Burleigh  on,  43v 
Husbandry  Learning,  191. 

College'for,  192. 

Idleness  in  Children,  not  Natural,  294,377. 
ignorance,  Knowledge  of  our  Own,  106. 

Sources  of,  106. 
Imagination,  120. 

Office  of,  in  Study  of  History,  121. 

milntion,  in  learning  a  Language,  76. 

nclinations.  Mastery  of,  278. 

ndiflerence  to  Knowledge,  291. 

idustrial  SIICCCM,  38)). 

iiformare,  11. 

n  formation,  11. 

nquisitiveness,  291. 

nsegnare,  11. 

iiilruclion  should  be  Pleasurable,  38G. 

nterlinear  Transitions,  313. 

nterruption  <>f  Convenntion  by  Children,  303. 

ntuition,  Basis  of  Teaching,  :<?:<. 

ntiiitionnl  Exercise  of  the  Perception,  377. 

ntuitive  Perceptions,  89. 

mentions.  History  of,  204. 

.  Hh  Schoolum-trr',  the.  -111."). 
Italian  Language,  183. 

Junuu*,  Milton'y  Reference  to,  179 


JenuiU,  Schools  of,  91. 

nnan.  hardy  Habits  of,  22{T. 
J.,hnv,n,  S ..  l.V 

Powrr  of  Habit.  99. 

Criticism  and  Strictures  on  Milton,  151. 

Love  of  Lcuming,  15. 

Studies  to  be  pursued  by  Youth,  132. 
Joinery,  337. 

Judgment  not  exercised  by  Mathematics,  114. 
Justice,  Love  and  Practice  of,  •->!. 

Of  Nature'.  Law  of  Discipline,  368, 
Juvenile  Discipline,  357. 

Nature's  Law  of  Reaction,  358, 

Illustrations,  361. 

Consequences,  362. 
Juvenile  Good  Conduct,  36P. 

Too  Much  Expected,  368. 

Kepler,  78. 

Knowledge,  Desire  of,  15,  17,  61,  279. 
Is  Power,  95. 

Of  our  own  Ignorance,  106. 
Value  of  a  Little,  107. 
Of  the  World,  for  a  Tutor,  269, 

For  a  Youth,  270. 
Continuously  Pleasurable,  386, 
Relative  Value  of,  386. 
For  Self-Preservation,  389. 

"    Industrial  Success,  389. 

41    Rearing  a  Family,  393. 

"    Physical  Training,  393. 

"    Moral  *'          394. 

"    Mental  -          395. 

"    Functions  of  a  Citizen,  39C. 

"    Enjoyment  of  Nature,  398. 

••    Discipline  of  Faculties,  399. 

Labor,  Lycurgus  on,  42. 

La  Bruyere,  on  the  Study  of  Languages,  332. 

On  Politeness,  218. 
Lacedemonians,  42. 
Lalor,  J.,  Education  Denned,  20. 
Language,  Learning  a  new,  70,  311. 

Why  Learned,  316. 
Languages,  Ancient,  332,  398. 

Modern,  398. 

Latin  Language,  70,  220,  322. 
Ascharn's  Method,  70. 
Locke's          "        220,311,322. 
Cicero's          "        70. 
Milton,  180. 
Speaking,  71,312. 
Pronunciation,  181. 
Versification,  220,  329. 
Law  and  Jurisprudence,  184. 
Layng,  H.,  Author  of  the  Rod,  422, 
Laziness.  292. 
Learn  by  Teaching,  25. 
Learning,  and  Ex|>erience,  67. 
Little,  Pope's  View  of,  104. 

Whately's.  KU. 
or  Mental  Culture,  3(l.">. 
Secondary  to  Moral  Training.  30.5. 
by  Heart,  made  a  Pastime,  3U8. 
by  Rote,  372. 
lesser  Pensioner,  168. 
Liberality,  to  be  Cultivated,  280. 
Liberty  in  Sports,  279. 
Life,  a  State  of  Education  for  Eternity,  20, 
Locke,  John,  Memoir,  209. 

Raumer's  IVdngogical  System  of,  211. 
Tliou<:lit.«  on  Eduction,  2-V 
Dedication. 

Education  Defined,  -'.'i',. 
1.   Physical  Education,  22rt 

\i-  Tcndcrm-1-.  -_KJ7 
Wnrmlh.  Clothing,  2v!7.  230. 
l-V.-t,  Hntliing  in  Cold  Wnter,  228. 
Swimming    Exercise  in  o(>«ii  air.  229 
Diet,  Menk  Fruit,  Drink,  231,  233. 
Sleep,  Bed,  235. 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY 


Locke,  Physic,  Prerention  and  not  Medicine,  230. 

2.  Moral  Culture,  &7. 

Early  Influence  in  Formation  of  Habits,  237. 

Craving,  240,  277. 

Punishments,  avoided  by  right  Habits,  242. 

Awe,  Mastery  of  Inclin's,  Submission,  243. 

Beating,  243,  !i03. 

Rewards  nild  Encouragements,  244. 

Reputation,  Esteem  and  Disgrace,  245. 

Childishness  and  Sports,  247i 

Rules,  few,  248. 

Habits,  Practice,  249. 

Affectation.  Mariners,  251,  302". 

Company,  Public  Schools,  253. 

Vice,  Virtue,  255. 

Private  Education,  250. 

Example,  Tasks,  257. 

Inclination,  Compulsion,  258,  293. 

Chiding,  Obstinacy,  259,  200. 

Reasoning,  Whipping,  202. 

Private  Tutor,  or  Governor,  203, 

Familiarity,  Reverence,  273 

Temper,  Dominion,  275. 

Curiosity,  279,  289. 

Recreation,  279,  295. 

Complaint  of  each  other,  280. 

Liberality,  Justice,  280. 

Crying,  281. 

Fool-hardiness,  Courage,  Cowardice,  283. 

Timorousness,  Hardiness,  280. 

Cruelty,  287. 

Sauntering,  Inattention,  291. 

Lying,  Excuses,  295. 

God,  Spirits,  Goblins,  Truth,  297. 

Common  Sense,  Breeding,  299. 

Roughness,  Contempt,  Censoriousness,  300. 

Contradiction,  Captiousness,  301. 

Interruption,  Dispute,  304. 

3.  Intellectual  Education,  305. 
Reading,  305. 

Writing,  Drawing,  Shorthand,  309. 

French,  Latin,  311,  322. 

Grammar,  Themes,  Versifying,  310. 

Memoriter  Recitation,  320. 

Geography,  Arithmetic,  Astronomy,  323. 

Geometry,  Chronology,  History,  324. 

Ethics,  Civil  Law,  English  Law,  325. 

Rhetoric  and  Logic,  English  Language,  328. 

Natural  Philosophy,  329. 

Greek  Language,  332. 

Method  and  Order  of  Studies,  333. 
4    Exercises  in  the  vari's  depart'nts  of  Educ.,  334 

Dancing,  Music,  221,  334. 

Fencing,  335. 

Manual  Trades,  330,  338. 

Painting,  Gardening,  Joinery,  337. 

Recreations,  338. 

Mercantile  Accounts,  339. 

Travel,  340. 

Conclusion,  342. 
Logic,  Milton,  184. 
Locke,  221,320. 
Lord's  Prayer,  how  taught,  308. 
Love,  a  Motive  to  Study,  03,  09. 

in  a  Teacher,  404. 

Lloyd,  Sarah,  The  Schoolmistress,  420. 
Lying,  239,  295. 

Machiavel,  on  power  of  Custom,  95. 

Man,  Subject  of  Education,  430. 

Management  of  Children,  350. 

Mandeville,  B.,  Essay  on  Charity  Schools,  107. 

Manners,  139,  251,  208. 

Manual  Labor  and  Mechanical  Dexterity,  202,  330. 

Marcel,  C.,  373,  374. 

Marcellinus,  134. 

Martial,  quoted,  30. 

Mason,  Sir  J.,  54. 

Mathematical  Reasoning,  117,  201. 

Mathematics,  59,  91,  114,  201,  331,  390. 

Meals,  232. 


ledcalf,  Dr.,  23. 

ledicine  or  Physic,  in  general  Education,  183. 
rtemoriter  Recitation,  321. 
Memory  necessary  to  the  Scholar,  01,  135. 

How  Strengthened,  321,  322. 

Artificial  Aids  to,  201. 
lental  Activity,  Excess  of,  351. 

Training,  hard  and  easy  way  of,  91. 
Mercantile  Arithmetic,  223. 
iletaphrasis,  75. 
iletaphysics,  83,  180. 
Merchants'  Accounts,  339. 
tlethod,  Importance  of,  334. 
Vlildmay,  Walter,  54. 
Vlilitury  Exercises,  180,  190. 

Recommended  by  Milton,  180. 
Cowley,  190. 
Milton,  147,  100,  178. 

Memoir,  147. 

Home  Life  and  Education,  14?,  100. 

Private  Teacher,  102. 

St.  Paul  School,  103. 

As  a  Schoolboy,  106. 

Christ  College,  Cambridge,  107. 

Victim  of  Corporeal  Punishment,  175. 

Tractate  on  Education,  178. 

End  of  Learning,  12,  179. 

Definition  of  Education,  181 

Plan  of  an  Academy,  181. 

Vlitford,  J.,  Answer  to  Johnson's  Strict,  on  Milton,  152 
Modern  Languages,  311. 
Moral  Culture,  237,  350. 

Milton,  147,  184. 

Locke,  237. 

Spencer,  350. 

Cowper,  452. 

More,  H.,  on  Practice  and  Habit,  99. 
Morysine,  Sir  R.,  31. 
Vlother's  unconscious  Tuition  of  Objects  379. 

Power  over  Moral  Education,  51. 
VIotives  to  Study,  03. 

Asc.ham,  03,  09. 

Plato  on,  50. 

Milton  on,  182. 

Locke  on,  257. 
Mulcaster,  R.,  400. 
Music.  Ascham  on,  27,  59 

Galen  on,  27,  59. 

H.  Coleridge,  27. 

Milton,  28,  180. 

Locke,  221. 
My  First  Teacher,  410. 

Natural  Bent  of  the  Genius,  91,  107,  137. 
Natural  Consequences  of  Actions,  358. 
Natural  Philosophy,  Bacon  on,  83,  94,  190,  329 
Nature,  Study  of  the  Scier.ce,  331. 

Laws  of,  How  Ascertained,  90. 

Reactionary  Laws  of,  353. 
Nature's  Law  of  Discipline,  358. 

Illustrated  in  a  Child's  Litter,  301. 
Not  being  ready  for  a  Walk,  302. 
Breaking  Playthings,  302. 

Advantages  of,  304. 
Navigation,  183. 
New  England  Country  School,  471. 

District  School  Teacher,  410,  419. 

Nosocomi'um  Academicum,  of  Sir  W.  Petty,  201. 
Nursery  Management,  357. 

Object  Teaching,  84,  189,  373,  378. 

Observing  Faculties,  373. 

Obstinacy,  200. 

Office  of" Common  Address,  198. 

Opportunities,  for  a  Pursuit,  107, 144 

Orbilius,  405. 

Over  Education,  354. 

Ovid,  42. 

Pain,  the  Punishment  of  Law  violated,  358. 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY. 


Painting,  337. 

Paley.  Education  Defined,  15. 
Para'phraw,  in  I  turning  Latin,  74. 
Parental  Duties,  Preparation  for,  356. 
Displeasure,  367. 

Ignorance,  31)3. 

Piirent  and  Child,  Relation  of,  365. 
Parents,  Overfondness,  227,  240. 

Over  Ektinmte  of  Capacity,  132. 
Parr,  S.,  Nature  of  Education,  17. 
Party  Spirit,  Power  of,  99. 
Passion,  Mind  to  be  kept  free  of,  314. 
Pastime,  Characteristic*  of  true,  43. 

Place  of,  in  Education,  68. 
Pell's  Mathematical  Treatises,  204. 
Pember.  R.,  Letter  to  Aschum,  25. 
Pembroke,  Countess  of,  -21). 

Instructed  in  Latin  by  Ascham,  29. 
Penmanship,  Ascham'»,"26,  34. 

Lord  Pulmerston  on,  26. 

Locke,  309. 

Pennioner,  at  Cambridge,  167. 
Persians,  Aim  in  Education,  66. 
Perspective,  383. 
Pestalozzi,  377. 
Peter,  Sir  W.,  54. 

Petty,  Sir  W.,  189. 

Plan"  of  a  Trade  School,  199. 
Philosophical  College,  Plan  of  Cowley,  190. 
Physic,  23»>. 
Physical  Education,  226,  345. 

Milton,  185. 

Locke,  211,  226. 

Spencer,  345. 
Physical  Indications  of  the  Scholar,  61,  133. 

Comeliness  and  Perfection  of  Parts,  134. 

Complexion,  Head,  134. 

Eye,  135. 

Physical  Science  in  Education,  151,  329,  399. 
Physics,  the  Mother  of  Sciences,  331,  373. 

Relative  Value  of  391. 
Physiognomy,  133. 
Pluto,  41,  49,  56,436. 
Plutarch,  132. 
Play,  41,  43,350,  483. 
Piny-place,  441. 

Playthings,  Supply  and  Restraint  of  294. 
Plays,  Acting  ol,  Bacon  on,  92. 

Kuumer,  93. 

Pliny,  Recommended,  26 

Poems  and  Tales,  Influence  on  the  Judgment  117. 
Poetry,  Devotion  to,  220. 

Milton,  184. 

Locke,  320. 
Politeness,  218,  219. 
Political  Economy,  Student  of,  120. 
•Politics,  Recommended  by  Milton,  184. 
Pope,  A.,  Power  of  Education,  14. 
Practical  Science,  183,  190,  199. 
Praise,  Love  of,  62,  145,  245,  336. 
Precocity,  to  be  Deprecated,  58,  352 
Prior,  Gingerbread  Horn-book,  425. 
Private  or  Home  Education,  254,  256. 
Promise  in  a  Child,  Marks  of,  61,  133,  135. 
Public  or  Boarding  Schools,  253. 

Locke,  253. 

Cow  per,  440. 

Crubbe,  459. 

Punishments.  242,  257,  364. 
nur»uit,  How  determined,  107. 

Quadriennium,  at  Cambridge,  172,  177. 
Questions,  Preliminary  to  Study,  112. 

Of  Instruction,  112. 

Of  Examination,  112. 
Quickness  of  Wit,  58. 

Raillery,  301. 

Kanisden,  Prof.,  17,  19. 

Ratich,  Obligations  to  Bacon,  94. 

Uaumer,  on  Bacon's  Pedagogy  80. 


Raumer,  on  Bacon's  Pedagogy.  Lorke's,  208. 
Reaction,  Law  ot,  in  Education,  358. 
Reading,  OmV-  of,  1U2. 

Mode  and  Purposes  of.  111. 

Questioning,  Analysis,  fee..  112. 

With  Curiosity  excited,  112. 

Through  Colored  Spectacles,  110. 

Locke's  Thoughts  on,  306. 

Made  a  Pastime,  307. 

Realism,  Verbal  and  Real,  87,  179,  189,  190,  220, 
Reasoning,  Conditions  for,  115. 

Candor  of  Mind  essential,  116. 

With  Children,  2T.2. 
Recreation  to  the  Student,  42. 

Ascham  on,  39,  42. 

Aristotle,  41. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Erasmus,  Galen,  40. 

Retrospective  Review,  Kirk  White,  40. 

Fuller,  T.,  41,  43. 

Stillingfleet,  Ovid,  42. 

Swift,  Plato,  Whiuiker,  43. 

Locke,  279,  337. 

Spencer,  397. 

Regency  at  Cambridge,  173. 
Regulation  of  the  Habits,  241. 
Religious  Instruction,  182,  297,  308. 
Reputation,  or  Esteem,  245. 
Resewitz,  219. 
Respect  for  others,  301. 
Rest,  41. 
Restitution,  367. 
Retrospective  Review,  38,  42. 
Reverence,  or  Awe,  of  Parents,  241,  275. 

For  Children,  256. 
Reviews,  185. 
Rewards  in  Discipline,  244. 
Rhetoric,  184,  326. 
Rich,  System  of  Short-hand,  310. 
Riding  'Horseback,  40,  63,  186,  222. 
Rod,  The.  55,  243,  260,  422. 
Romans,  Examples  of  Temperance,  232. 
Rote  Learning,  Without  Understanding,  113. 

Teaching,  372. 
Roughness,  300. 
Rule-teaching,  372. 
Rules,  few,  248. 
Rusk  in,  19. 

Sackville,  Sir  R.,  47,  54. 

St.  Anthony's  Free  School,  163. 

St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  23 

St.  Paul's  School,  Milton  at,  163. 

Sauntering,  291. 

Scaliger,  31. 

Scholar,  Marks  of  Promising,  61. 

School  and  Teacher,  in  English  Literature,  401. 

Fuller,  T.,  403. 

Goldsmith,  O.,  406. 

Lloyd,  R.,  408. 

Shenstone,  409. 

White,  II.  R.,  420. 

Crabbe,  G.,  421,  455. 

Gray,  T..  426. 

Hood,  T.,  465. 

Cowper.  W.,  432. 
School  Days  and  Plays,  440. 
School-house,  the  House  of  Play,  46. 
Schools  of  the  Borough,  by  Crabbe,  455. 

For  InfanU,  455. 

Preparatory,  456. 

Day  Schoo'l,  457. 

Boarding  School,  458. 
For  Young  Ladies,  458 
For  Boys,  459. 

College  Life.  401. 

The  Scholar  and  Literary  Life,  462. 
Schoolmaster,  The  Village,  by  Goldsmith,  406. 

Delille,  407. 

Gilnllrm,   416. 

Hood,  465. 
Schoolmaster,  the  Office  of,  how  Esteemed,  61,  403 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY. 


School  master,  The,  by  Roger  Asclmm,  27,  45. 
Preface,  44. 
Annotations  on,  51. 
BOOK  I.     The  Bringing  up  of  Youth,  57. 

General  Manner  and  Temper  required,  57. 

The  aim  of  all  Good  Culture,  57. 

Quick  Wits,  and  Slow,  compared,  58. 

Influence  of  excessive  attention  to  Music,  59. 

The  Special  Marks  of  Promise  in  a  Child,  61. 

1.  Sound  and  comely  Physique,  61. 

2.  Good  Memory,  61. 

3.  Love  of  Learning,  61. 

4.  Eagerness  to  Labor,  62 

4.  Readiness  to  receive  from  another,  62. 

6.  Boldness  to  ask  for  Knowledge,  62. 

7.  Love  of  Praise  for  well-doing,  62. 
Motives  to  Study,  Pleasure,  and  not  Pain,  62. 
Interview  with  Lady  Jane  Grey  at  Brodegate,  63. 
Discipline  enforced  kindly  but  firmly,  64. 
Dangers  from  excessive  License  to  Young  Men,  65. 
Bad  Example  of  the  Nobility,  65. 

Effects  of  Good  Education  of  Youth  illustrat'd,  66. 

Learning  by  Book  and  at  School,  67. 

Exercise  and  Pastimes  to  be  allowed,  68. 

Influence  of  Good  Example,  69. 

Foreign  Travel  discouraged,  70. 

BOOK  II.  The  Ready  Way  to  the  Latin  Tongue,70. 

Mode  of  Learning  Rules  of  Grammar  disc.,  70. 

Oral  and  Explanatory  Method  preferred,  70. 

Double  Translating  from  Latin  into  English  and 
English  into  Latin,  71. 

Pupils  to  be  Aided  and  Encouraged,  and  not  left 
in  doubt,  &c.,  71. 

Trying  to  speak  Latin  a  questionable  exercise,  72. 

Discrimination  of  Parts  of  Speech,  &.c.,  72. 

Diligent  Reading  of  the  best  Authors,  73. 

Six  ways  for  the  Learning  of  Tongues  and  In 
crease  of  Eloquence,  74. 

1.  Translations,  74. 

2.  Paraphrnse,  74. 

3.  Metaphrasis,  75. 

4.  Epitome,  76. 
Schoolmistress,  416. 

Shenstono,  409. 
White,  H.  K.,  420. 
Burton,  Warren,  4J6. 
Marine  Farmer,  419. 
•  Crabbe,  George,  421,  456. 
Science  in  Education,  394. 
Views  of  Milton,  151,  183. 
Johnson,  151, 
.Mitford,  152. 
Hartlib,  188. 

Petty,  189,  208.  ,    . 

Cowley,  J90. 
Spencer,  388,  399. 
Scripture,  how  Studied,  108,  330. 
Sculpture  and  Education,  16. 
Seed-time,  42. 
Self-denial,  242. 
Evolution,  386. 
Government  of  Children,  371. 
Instruction,  376. 
Preservation,  389. 
Seneca,  135,  272. 
Serranus,  31. 

Severity  Unnecessary,  57,  259,263. 
Seven  Liberal  Arts,  177. 
Shakspeare,  Education  Defined  by,  11. 
Short,  Bishop,  End  of  Education,  13. 
Short-hand  Writing,  310. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  40. 
Singing,  43. 

Silence  and  Solitude,  Love  of  in  Children,  136.  ' 
Sitting  Still,  417. 
Sizar,  at  Cambridge,  168. 
Skill  and  Strength,  142. 
Sleep,  235,  351. 

Slowness  of  Development,  61,  133. 
Smattering  of  Knowledge,  105. 
Smith,  Sir  T.,  55. 
Treatise  on  English  Spelling,  55. 


Society,  Education  for,  253,  269,  398. 

Science  of,  392. 
Socrates,  on  the  average  Capacity,  61. 

Marks  of  a  promising  Scholar,  63. 

1.  Sound  Body,  63. 

2.  Memory,  quick  and  Retentive,  63. 

3.  Love  of  Learning,  64. 

4.  Love  of  Labor,  64. 

5.  Readiness  to  receive  of  another,  64. ' 

6.  Boldness  to  ask,  64. 

7.  Love  of  Praise  for  well-doing,  64. 
What  to  learn,  152. 

Sophisters  at  Cambridge,  172. 

Sophocles,  49. 

South,  Dr.,  Power  of  Habits,  13. 

Speaking,  fluent,  76. 

Spelling  Reform,  55,  164. 

Spencer,  H.,  Thoughts  on  Education,  345. 

1.  Physical  Education,  345. 
Importance  of  Physical  Training,  345. 
Food,  345. 

Sugar  and  Fruit,  346. 

Quality,  Quantity,  and  Variety  of  Food,  347. 

Clothing,  348.      ' 

Exercise,  350. 

Excess  of  Mental  Activity,  351. 

Health  of  the  Brain,  Supply  of  Good  Blood,  352. 

Results  of  Modern  Physical  Treatment,  355. 

Preservation  of  Health,  Duty,  355. 

2.  Moral  Education,  356. 

Special  Preparation  for  Family  Management,  356. 

Nature's  Law  of  Discipline,  358. 

Examples  of  the  Rule  of  Natural  Reaction,  361. 

Consequences  of  Obedi.  to  Parent  and  Child,  362, 369 

True  Relation  of  Parent  and  Child,  365. 

How  to  deal  with  Grave  Offences,  367. 

Too  much  expected  of  Juvenile  Good  Conduct,  368. 

Commands  few,  but  Decisive  and  Consistent,  36'J. 

Self-government  the  Aim  of  all  Discipline,  370. 

Right  Government  complex  and  dith'cult,  371. 

3.  Intellectual  Education  and  Studies,  372. 
Decline  of  Old  Methods,  372. 
Introduction  of  New  Method,  373. 

The  Order  and  Method  of  Nature  to  be  followed,  374 
Guiding  principles  of  Education,  375. 
Application  of  Principle  to  Practice,  377. 
Intuitional  Exercise  of  the  Perceptions,  377. 
Object-lessons,  378. 

A  Mother's  Unconscious  Tuition  on  Objects,  379. 
Extension  of  the  field  of  Object-teaching,  380. 
Value  of  a  Love  and  a  Knowledge  of  J\ature,  381. 
Drawing,  including  Form  und  CoJor,  381. 
Dimensions  in  Perspective,  382. 
Geometry,  Primary,  383. 

Empirical,  384. 

Acquisition  of  Knowledge  should  be  a  process  of 
self-instruction  and  continuous  pleasure,  386. 

4.  What  Knowledge  is  most  Worth,  388. 
Relative  Values  of  Knowledge,  388. 
Knowledge  requisite  to  Self-preservation,  389. 

Industrial  Success,  389. 
Mathematics,  390. 
Physics,  391. 
Chemistry,  391. 
Biology,  392. 
Science  of  Society,  392. 

Rearing  and  discipline  of  the  family  Offspring,  393 
Functions  of  the  Citizen,  396. 
^Esthetics,  or  Education  for  Relaxations,  etc.,  397. 
Knowledge  requisite  for  purposes  of  Discipline,  399 
Prominent  value  of  Science,  399.  * 

Spirits,  297. 

Spontaneous  Activity  of  Children,  377. 
Sporting,  as  Exercise,  44. 
Stimulation  of  the  Faculties,  352. 
Story-books,  Influence  of,  ou  Character,  117. 
Stubbornness,  260. 

Studies,  calculated  to  mar  some  Minds,  28. 
To  be  varied  to  the  Peculiarities,  91. 
Necessary  to  Life,  151,  272. 
Trivium,  177. 
Quadrivium,  177. 


31 


INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY. 


Studies,  Ettny  on,  by  Bacon,  103. 

Purpotes  of,  IU3. 

Uses,  defined  by  Kx(>erience,  103. 

Books,  how  UM.,|.  103 

Adaptation  to  Peculiarities  of  Mind,  104. 

Annotations  on,  by  Whately,  104. 
Sturm i us.  J.,  Letters  to  A»chain,  34. 

Character  of,  56. 
Style,  3-J7. 

Sugar  in  Children's  Diet,  346. 
SAM  it,  on  Running  for  Exercise,  40. 
Swimming,  Fuller  on,  44. 

Locke,  229. 

Tasks,  Study  not  to  be  imposed  ta,  257. 
Teaching.  Value  of,  49. 

Limited  by  capacity  and  Industry,  151. 
Teacher,  48,~265. 
Telling  and  Doing,  376. 
Temper,  or  Natural  Inclination,  276. 

Observed  in  Sports,  279. 
Temperaments,  Doctrine  of,  134. 
Tenderm-sv  J-JT . 

Thalassius,  35.  . 

Theages,  of  Plato,  56. 
Themes  in  Latin,  318. 
Theology  and  Church  History,  184. 
Thing-?,  Study  of,  207. 
Time,  an  Element  in  Education,  137, 
Timorousness,  285. 
Tirocinium,  or  A  Review  of  Schools,  436. 

Dignity  of  Human  Nature,  Body  and  Soul,  436. 

Natural  World,  and  its  love,  437. 

Necessity  of  Early  Culture,  438. 

Heathen  deities  crowd  out  Christian  Culture,  440. 

Love  of  play-place  and  School-room,  441. 

Picture  of  a  Public  School,  442. 

Evils  of  Emulation,  444. 

Filial  Love  and  Confidence  lost  by  Absence,  446. 

A  thoughtful,  prayerful,  accomplished  Tutor,  447. 

Domestic  Education,  44U. 
Town  and  Gown,  in  Cambridge,  168. 
Toxophilus,  the  Schole  of  Shootinge,  39. 

Writing  of,  39. 

Active  Amusements  of  Scholars,  40. 

Relaxation  and  Pastimes  Necessary,  41. 

Fuller  on  Recreation,  43. 
Tractable  Disposition,  136. 
Tractate  on  Education,  by  John  Milton,  173. 

Origin  of,  178. 

End  of  Learning,  179. 

Errors  of  Modern  Education,  180. 

Plan  of  Academy,  181. 
Building,  1HJ. 

1.  Studies,  181. 

2.  Practical  Exercises,  181. 

3.  Diet,  187. 
Trades,  School  of,  203,  206. 

To  be  Learned,  Locke,  338. 

History  of,  204. 

Translations,  Value  of  Double,  29,74,315. 
Travel,  Ascham  on,  70. 

Wotton,  139. 

Milton.  l,-7. 

Petty,  2(17. 

Locke,  340 

Tricks  at  School,  255. 
Trienniiim  f..r  Master  of  Arts,  174,  177. 
Trivium,   177. 
Truth,  298. 
Tusser,  T.,  46. 
Tutor,  or  Private  Governor,  265,  272,  447. 

Good  Breeding,  -Jti7. 

Knowledge  of  the  World,  269. 

Aim,  271. 
Tyrant  School-boy,  458. 

(del,  N.,  Severity  of,  46.  405. 
University  at  Cambridge,  167. 
I'mvcrsity  Exercises,  lli'J. 
University  Orator.  -J4. 
Usher,  School,  408. 


Versifying,  320. 

•'li-l'.    I'liirll  Vlty   tO,  255. 

'irious  Inclination*.  . 

Milage  School  and  Teacher,  English,  406,  409,  420. 

Frrm-h,  407. 

Scotch,  416. 

Imh,  406. 

New  England,  416,  419,471. 

/irtue,  the  valuable  Part  of  Education,  14,  256,  29: 
Vitality  expended  in  Gtowth,  :(.">.">. 

Vnlks  in  the  Field,  42 
Valton,  Isaak,40. 

Memoir  of  Sir  II.  Wotton,  123. 
-Vants,  Natural  or  Fanciful,  '277. 
Warmth,  or  Protection  from  Cold.  227. 
.Vhiit  is  Education  ?  01  Education  Defined,  11. 
VVhately,  Archbishop,  96,  J04. 
Nature  of  Education,  18,  100. 
Force  of  Custom  and  Habit,  97. 
Practice  and  Habit.  97. 
Example  of  the  Soldier,  98. 

41       Partyman,  99. 
Studies,  104. 

Smattering  of  Knowledge,  105. 
Knowledge  of  our  own  Ignorance,  106. 
Study  of  the  Scriptures,  JO?1. 
Deference  to  Masters  in  Studies,  111. 
Differing  kinds  of  Questioning,  112. 
Learning  by  Rote,  113. 
How  to  solve  puzzling  Difficulties,  114. 
Mathematics,  114. 
Poems,  Tales,  Fictions,  117. 
Miss  Edgworth's  Moral  Tales,  118. 
Historical  Studies,  119. 
Travels,  120. 
Political  Economy,  120. 
Use  of  Imagination.  121. 
Pleasure  Grounds  of  Knowledge,  121. 
Whewell,  W  ,  Education  defined  by,  11. 
Whichote,  13. 

Whipping,  at  the  University  of  Cambridge,  175 
Ascnam  on,  55. 
Locke,  263. 
Layng,  422. 
Wilson,  423. 
Butler,  Byron,  425. 
Hood,  424,  465. 

Wife,  Lord  Burleigh  on  choice  of,  52. 
Wilson,  T.,  Author  of  the  Birch,  424. 
Will,  of  Children,  261. 
Wingfield,  Sir  A.,  23. 
Wisdom.  299. 

Wits,  Quick  and  Slow,  59. 
Woman,  Health  of,  350. 

Education,  394. 
Words,  Learning  of,  180. 
World,  Knowledge  of,  -.ifiO. 
Worthinjrton's  Catechism,  309. 
Wotton,  Sir  W.,  12. 
Memoir,  54,  123. 
Provost  of  Eton  College,  126. 
Letter  to  Charles  I.,  !•>,  131. 
Educational  Apothegms,  131. 
Characteristic  Indications  of  the  Scholar,  132. 
Time,  an  Element  in  Education,  137. 
Successful  Beginnings    I  if-. 
Epitomes  and  Commentaries,  138. 
Discretion,  a  Gift  and  a  Product,  138. 
Value  of  Travel,  139. 
Good  Manners,  a  happy  Man,  139. 
Hook-  to  IK-  estimated  l.\  Quality,  not  Quantrty,  139 
Formality,  when  excessive,  suspicious,  141. 
Applause  should  follow,  not  lead,  141. 
Opportunity  necessary  to  Success,  143. 
Wr^tlmg,  IH4,  335. 
Writing,  or  Penmanship,  26,  309. 
Wyse,  T.,  374,  3-3. 

Young,  T.,  Teacher  of  Milton,  162. 
Youth,  Excessive  License  to,  63. 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW  :  or,  Treatises  and  Thoughts  on 
Education,  the  School,  and  the  Teacher  in  English  Literature.  Second 
Series.  Republished  from  Barnard's  American  Journal  of  Education. 
608  pages.  $3.50.  1876. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOE. 

INTRODUCTION i-xvi 

CONTENTS  AND  INDEX  OF  FIRST  SERIES ix 

ART.  I.  THE  ENDOWED  GRAMMAR  SCHOOLS  AND  SECONDARY  EDUCATION  1-176 

CHARACTERISTIC  FEATURES 1 

CHRONOLOGICAL  ESTABLISHMENT .- 3 

HENRY  VI.  AND  ETON  COLLEGE,  WINDSOR 5 

MERCHANT  TAYLORS'  SCHOOL 9 

SHREWSBURY  FREE  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL 11 

II.  WILLIAM  OP  WICKHAM  AND  ST.  MARY'S  COLLEGE 13 

MEMOIR  AND  EDUCATIONAL  WORK 13 

ST.  MARY'S  COLLEGE— CONSTITUTION— STUDIES— CONDITION,  &c...       17 

III.  DEAN  COLET  AND  ST.  PAUL'S  SCHOOL,  LONDON 49 

MEMOIR — ERASMUS — LILLY — RYTWISE 49 

ST.  PAUL'S  SCHOOL — STATUTES — STUDIES — CONDITION 59 

IY.  GENERAL  SURVEY  OF  THE  GREAT  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS 81-117 

V.  GREEK  LANGUAGE  IN  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS 118 

VI.  GRAMMAR  SCHOOLS — MODERN  AND  ANCIENT 1 29-1 76 

DR.  ARNOLD  AND  RUGBY  SCHOOL 97-129 

CARDINAL  WOLSEY  AND  IPSWICH  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL — 1528.  155-173 

VII.  PEDAGOGY  OF  THE  OLD  MASTERS 177-324 

RICHARD  MULCASTER 177 

ELEMENTARIE,  OR  WRITING  or  THE  ENGLISH  TONGUE— 1581 178 

POSITIONS  RESPECTING  THE  TRAINING  or  CHILDREN — 1561 180 

JOHN  BRINSLY — 1587-1665 185 

LUDUS  LlTERARIUS,  OR  THE  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL— 1627 185 

CHARLES  HOOLE— 1618-1677 189 

ENGLISH  EDITION  OF  COMENIUS'S  ORBIS  PICTUS 190 

NEW  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  OLD  ART  OF  TEACHING 193 

THE  PETTY  SCHOOL 193 

EARLY  ENGLISH  SCHOOL  BOOKS  . . . : 208 

THE  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL 225 

THE  USHERS'  DUTY 225 

THE  MASTER'S  METHOD 267 

SCHOLASTIC  DISCIPLINE 293 

VIII.  SCHOOL  PUNISHMENTS — HISTORICALLY  CONSIDERED 325-336 

THE  STRAP— FERULE— ROD— BIRCH— TAWS ' 325 

IX.  ALEXANDER  POPE — ROBERT  SOUTH — SIR  RICHARD  STEELE.  . .  337-346 

THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 337 

X.  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH— 1731-1744 347-358 

ESSAY  ON  EDUCATION 347 

XI.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON— 1708-1784 359-364 

PLAN  OF  STUDIES  AND  DETACHED  THOUGHTS 359 

XII.  SAMUEL  PARR— 1747-1825 365-368 

CHARITY  SCHOOL  SERMON 365 


ENGLISH   PEDAGOGY— SECOND  SERIES. 

PAGE 

XIII.  ENGLISH  HOME  LIFE  AND  EDUCATION 369-4<>0 

Tins  EVELYN  FAMILY 3C9 

MRS.  ELIZABETH  SADLER  WALKER — MRS.  Lrrv  HUTCHINSON '.  3H5 

THE  UOYLE  FAMILY — LADY  RANELAOH — COUNTESS  or  WARWICK 390 

MARGARET  LUCAS— DUCHESS  OF  NEWCASTLE 'Ml 

1  ANNE  HARRISON — LADY  FANSHAWE 3911 

DAUGHTERS  OF  SIR  ANTHONY  COOK — LADY  BACON — LADY  Hi  K  I.KH.H  463 

XIV.  ADVICE  AS  TO  EDUCATION  AND  CONDUCT  FOK  PUBLIC  LIFE.  . .  401—116 

SIB  THOMAS  ELYOT 401 

THE  GOVERNOR,  OR  TRAINING  FOR  THE  COMMON  WEAL 403 

SIR  THOMAS  SMITH 415 

ADVERTISEMENTS  FOR  PONS  OF  NOBLEMEN  AND  COUNSELORS 416 

XV.  EDUCATION",  THE  SCHOOL,  AND  THE  TEACHER — Co-ntiuut.d 417-448 

DANIEL  DEFOE 417 

SCHEME  OF  A  UNIVERSITY  FOR  LONDON— AN  ACADEMY  OF  Mr  sic 421 

ILLITERACY  AND  LEARNING — THE  SCHOLAR  AND  THE  I'EDANT 423 

ESSAY  UPON  PROJECTS — MILITARY  ACADEMIES  AND  K.\ER<ISKS 419 

ACADEMY  OF  ENGLISH  PHILOLOGY — ACADEMY  FOR  WOMEN 420 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY 433 

THE  HOME  AND  HOME  EDUCATION  OF  DOCTOR  DANIEL  I'OVE 433 

RICHARD  GUY — THE  SCHOOLMASTER  OK  INGLETON 439 

DIALOGUE  OF  JOHANNES  RIVISIUS  TKXTOR 445 

XVI.  THOMAS  BABINGTON  MACAULAY 449-464 

ACADEMICAL  EDUCATION  IN  1826 4.">1 

OBJECTIONS  TO  OXFORD  AND  CAMBRIDGE 451 

MATHEMATICS— CLASSICAL  STUDIES— OMISSIONS 451 

LONDON  UNIVERSITY— UNIVERSITY  TEACHING  AT  ATHENS 459 

ELEMENTARY  EDUCATION  AND  THE  STATE 461 

COMPETITIVE  EXAMINATION  FOR  THE  INDIA  Civn,  SERVICE 461 

XVII.  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY  OF  IOTH  CENTURY 465-544 

JOSEPH  PAYNE 465 

THE  SCIENCK  ASD  ART  OF  EDUCATION 465 

THE  KINDERGARTEN  SYSTEM  OF  FROT.BEL 471 

JAMES  DONALDSON 481 

THE  SCIENCE  OF  EDUCATION .     481 

THE  AIM  OF  PRIMARY  SCHOOLS 489 

HENRY  CALDEKWOOD 497 

ON  TEACHING — ITS  ENDS  AND  MEANS 497 

WILLIAM  JOLLY 527 

PLAN  OF  A  UNIVERSITY  CHAIR  OF  PEDAGOGY 527 

ISAAC  TODHUNTEH 529 

CONFLICT  OF  STUDIES 529 

R.  H.  QUICK 537 

FIRST  STEPS  IN  TEACHING  A  FOREIGN  LANGUAGE 537 

XVIII.  SURVEY  OF  ENGLISH  SCHOOLS,  TEACHERS  AND  TEACHING 545-604 

STUDIES  AND  CONDUCT — Index 545 

PRIMARY  SCHOOLS  AND  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION— Contents 553 

ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — First  Series — Contents 561 

NATIONAL  EDUCATION — Contents 577 

INDEX  TO  ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW — Second  Series 593-604 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW  :  or,  Treatises  and  Thoughts 
on  Education,  the  School,  and  the  Teacher  in  English  Literature. 
Second  Series.  Republished  from  Barnard's  American  Journal  of 
Education.  608  pages.  Brown  &  Gross:  Hartford.  1876.  $3.50. 

INDEX 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY-OLD   AND   NEW. 


ABC  Books  and  Teaching,  208,  211,  219. 

Illustrated,  218.  [215. 

Leonard!  da  Vinci,  Illustrations  of  Primer, 
Academiaruin  Examon,  Webster,  190. 
Academy.  Defined,  422. 
Academical  Education  in  1826,  451. 
Academies  in  England  and  France,  421. 

Dissenters,  417.  Female,  429. 

Defoe's  Projects,  426.    Military,  428. 

English Lang'ge,  427.      Music,  422. 
Accuracy  in  Statement  of  Facts,  363. 
Acland,  Science  Tt-aching,  480. 
Acting  PJays,  from  Terence,  271,  319. 
Activity  of  ChUdren,  145,  471. 
Active  Temperament  in  Teacher,  498. 
Admission  to  Public  Schools,  79,  87,  92,  304. 

Colet's  Rules,  62. 
Advice  as  to  Studies  and  Conduct,  545. 

Defoe,  430.  Fanshawe,  399. 

Elyot,  403.  Smith,  415. 

^Esop's  Fables,  174, 245. 
Alarm  Bell  at  Winchester,  36. 
Alfred,  the  Great,  295. 
Algebra,  the  Cossic  Art,  210. 

Recorde's,  Treatise,  210. 
Alms-givine  and  Public  Help,  395. 
Alphabet,  Methods  of  Teaching,  211. 

Bow  and  Arrow,  73. 

Chinese  and  Persian,  211. 

Greek  and  Roman,  212. 

Dionysiu*  Halicarnassus,212. 

Kallias— Quintilian,  213. 

Hoole's  Petty  School,  195. 

German,  Luther,  Basedow,  215. 

English  in  Henry  ViH's  time,  215. 

New  England  of  1691,  218. 
American  Schools,  462,  512. 
Analysis,  to  aid  memory,  509. 
Ancient  Languages  and  Literature,  128,  456. 
Anecdotes  of  Scnools  and  Teachers,  26,  31. 
Anger,  430. 

Apple-twigs,  in  Discipline,  20. 
Appropriation  of  Ideas,  537. 
Apthonius,  280,  284. 
Archery,  Universal  Practice,  428. 
Archinus  and  Ionic  Alphabet,  214. 
Aristocracy  in  Public  Schools,  44. 
Arithmetic,  First  English  Treatises,  209,  210. 

Public  Schools,  44.      First  required,  124. 

Educative  Power,  496. 
ARNOLD,  THOMAS,  Educational  Work,  129. 

Private  Tut  >r  at  Lalt-ham,  the  office,  130, 132. 

Mastership  of  Rugby,  135. 

Course  of  Study— Daily  Work,  138. 

Relations  to  Trustees,  Parents  and  Pupils,  139. 

Chaplain,  Chapel  Service,  142. 

Per-oeal  Instruction  and  Influence,  146.  161. 

Sixth  Form— Rugby  Scholarship,  147,  150. 

Discipline— Fagging—  Fl»ggin»   151,  154. 

London  Uirversity,  Religious  Element,  156. 

Professor  of  Mod.  Hist.,  Death,  Example,158. 
Art  of  Edura'iou,  468. 
Artificial  value  to  Studies,  529. 
Araudel,  Counters,  Medical  Skill,  396. 
Ascham,  Rebuke  to  Noblemen,  122. 

Successive  Steps  in  Learning,  183. 

Cited,  241,  264,  272,  537. 


Assistants,  155,  79. 

Athens,  Populace  and  University  Life,  460. 

Educational  Policy.  366. 
Athletic  Games,  and  Exercises,  38. 

Archery,  413,  428.  Hunting,  410. 

Boating.  8,  106.  Long-bow,  413,  428. 

CheJS,  413.  Quoifs,  414. 

Cricket,  8,  38,  105,  171.    Riding,  410. 

D-ncing,  412.  Running,  409.       [184. 

Dumb-bells,  408.  Scourging   the  Top, 

Foot  Ball,  38,  171.  Shouting,  183.       [428. 

Fires,  38.  Swimming,  106,  409, 

Fox-hunting,  411.  Targer-shooting,  106, 

Hawking.  411.  Wrestling,  409.     [428. 

Attention,  Power,  and  Habits,  525. 

How  developed.  484.  504. 
Audition,  Power  of,  540. 
Authority  in  the  Teacher,  299. 

Impaired  by  excessive  use,  302,  502. 

Bacon,  Lord,  Art  defined,  469. 

Motives  for  Study,  541. 

Mother,  463. 

Baker,  John,  and  Winton  Rod,  20. 
Brtll's  Walk  at  Winchester,  30. 
BARNARD,  HENRY,  LIST  OP  PUBLICATIONS,  545. 

American  Journal  of  Education—  Classified 
Index  to  Vols.  1-16  553. 

National  Pedagogy—  American,  English, 
French,  German,  Swiss,  Principles  aad 
Methods,  547. 

National  Systems—  (1)  Elementary;  (2)  Sec 
ondary;  (3)  Superior;  (4)  Professional; 
(5)  Supplementary,  549. 

Educational  Biography—  American,  English, 
German,  French,  &c.  Teachers  and 
Educators,  550. 

Survey  of  English  Schools  and  Pedago»y,572. 

Primary  Schools  and  Education  —  Afhburton, 
Bell,  Brougham,  Currie,  Dunn,  Hay, 
Keenan,  Knight,  Lancaster,  Macaulay, 
Morrison,  Richards,  Ross,  Stow,  Sulli 
van,  Tainsh,  Young,  Wilderspin,  573. 

Studies  and  Conduct—  Add-on,  Aiken, 
Bacon,  Barrow,  Bodleigh,  Brougham, 
Burleigh,  Bulwer,  Bums,  Carlyle,  Chan- 
niug,  Chatham,  Chesterfield,  Colling- 
wood,  DeQuincey,  Duoanloup,  Everett, 
Jameson,  Jerome,  Locke,  Lowe,  Macau- 
lay,  Macintosh,  Mill,  Miiton.  More, 
Niebuhr,  Newman,  Pitt,  Pope,  Raumer, 
Sidney,  Sou^hey,  South,  Swift,  Taylor, 
Temple,Tyndall,  Whately,  Wordsworth— 
Index,  585. 

English  Pedagogy,  First  Series—  Ascham, 
Eicon,  Burleigh,  Cowley,  Cowper,  Crabbe, 
Fuller,  Gray,  Hartl  b,  Hood,  Locke, 
Milton,  Petty,  S^ienstone,  Spencer, 
Whately,  Wotton—  Index,  ix. 

En^liph  Pedagogy.  Second  Series  —  Arnold, 
Brinsly,  Calderwood,  Colet,  Collie, 
Coote,  Defoe,  Donaldson,  Duff,  Elyot, 
Evelyn.  Goldsmith,.  Hoole,  JohHson, 
Jolly,  Lyttleton,  Macaulay,  Mulcaster, 
Parker,  Parr,  Payne,  Pope,  Quick, 
Smith,  South,  Steele,  Todhunter,  Waie, 
Webster,  Wolaey—  Index,  595. 


(595) 


596 


KXULISH    PEDAGOGY OLD    AND    NEW. 


Barring  out  the  Master,  318. 
Barter,  Warden,  Cricket  plaver,  38. 
Bateu*.  Janua  Lingnarum,  223. 
Beating,  at  St.  Paul's,  72,  78. 

Toner  at  Eton,  328. 

Wolsey.  175. 
Bed-time  35. 

Beer,  at  Public  Schools,  32. 
Bell,  song  of.  at  Rugby,  169. 

Alarm  at  Winchester.  36. 

Peal.  First  and  Second.  84. 
Behavior,  Rules  for  Pupils,  189,  220. 
Beneke,  cited  on  Reading,  4%. 
Bentley,  R.,  in  the  Dunclad,  340. 
Bible,  School  u?e,  318. 
Bible— Clerk,  26,  34,  330. 
Sibling,  20. 

Bienrod,  Illustrated  Primer  in  German,  215. 
Bifurcation,  101. 

Bilson,  School  Rebellion  under,  25. 
Birch,  Instrument  of  School  Puni8hment,3,  331. 

Free  from  Knots.  313.  331. 

Cost  charged  to  Pupils,  26,  331. 
Birket,  Catechism  in  Greek,  290. 
Bishop,  Exeter,  468. 
Blackboard,  Early  use  of,  193,  223. 

Value  of.  505,  509,  510. 
Bluchers,  34. 

Boarding  Schools,  Early,  347. 
Boarding  in  Public  Schools,  110. 

Rugby,  172.  Harrow,  111. 

Winchester,  47. 

Boltz,  Introduction  to  German,  537. 
Bonner.  Method  at  Rothenham,  320. 
Books,  Pupilc,  Binding,  and  Printing,  317. 

Supply  of  subsidiary.  317. 
Books  and  Forms,  in  Classification,  22,  43. 
Books,  in  Science-teaching,  479. 
Book  of  Nature,  for  Science-teaching,  4SO. 
Book-work  in  a  Foreign  Language,  541. 
Books  and  Discourse  in  Popular  Education,460. 
Boole,  Abridged  Notation,  534. 
Botanical  Kxcurt»ions,  45. 
Bounties  on  Certain  Studies,  457. 
Boy  Bishop  at  St.  Paul's  School,  62. 
Boy-Tutors  at  Winchester,  43. 
Boyle,  Earl  of  Cork,  392. 
Boys,  Society  of,  how  governed,  152. 

Spirit  of  its  best  Members,  153,  160. 

Vote  on  Standing  and  Promotions,  304. 
Breaking-up  lor  Vacation?,  39. 
Breal.  on  School  preparation  of  Lessons,  544. 
Brin-ly,  John,  185,  189. 

Ludu*  Literarius,  185. 

Consolation  for  Grammar  Schools,  189. 

Rules  for  the  Master,  187. 
Britton,  John.  Horn-book  of  1771,  217. 
Browne,  Sir  Richard,  369. 
Building  for  a  Grammar  School  in  1661,  296. 

Hoole^s  Plan,  296. 

Master's  Dwelling,  297. 

Usher's  Pew,  296. 

Folding-doors  between  Class-rooms,  296. 

Spacious  Gr  unds,  296. 

Winchester.  32. 

St.  Paul's,  79. 

Burton,  Warden  at  Winchester,  23. 
Basby,  Severity  in  Punishment.329. 
Butler,  Hudibras'  Philosophy  of  Whippiug,336. 
Byron,  on  Flogging,  336. 

Calderwood,  Henry,  417. 
Teaching,  its  Ends  and  Means,  497. 
Requisites  for  Success  .  500. 
Faculty  of  Discipline,  500. 
Power  of  Communicating,  504. 
Natural  Curiosity,  505. 
Sympathetic  Relations  with  Pupil,  511. 
Formation  of  Character,  513. 
Limits  to  Teacher's  Power,  514. 


Calderwood,  Henry,  497. 
Individualizatlon,  Self-control,  517.          [519. 
Reprecsion    of   the  Wilful    and    Stubborn, 
National  Vices  to  be  Guarded  against,  521. 
Instruction,  Training,  Salaries,  525. 
Calfe,  Earliest  Reference  Library,  817. 
Cambridge  University,  451,  533. 
Camden's  Greek  Grammar,  291. 
Capping  and  Capping-book,  290,  803. 
Carving  and  Paint'ng,  406. 
Carelessness  in  Written  Exercices,  584. 
Castalion's  Dialogues,  246.  257,  582. 
Catechisms.  Anthers  of,  238,  246. 

Greek,  290. 
Hebrew  290. 

Assemblies,  278. 
Cato.  Spnfncet,  174,  249.  290. 
Certificated  Teachers,  497. 
Chancellor  and  Cathedral  School,  59. 
Chalk  and  Tablet,  193,  224. 
Changes,  Too  frequent.  322. 
Charity.  Examples  of,  395,  396. 
Chapel  Service,  47. 
Character,  Formation  of,  492,  513. 

Pupils'  own  Work.  514.        Growth,  516. 

Teacher  can  aid,  514. 
Charges  in  Free  Schools,  33,  41. 
Charnock.  Richard.  51. 
Chaucer,  Picture  of  Village  School,  210. 
Cheltenham  College,  102. 
Chemistry,  36,  42. 

Chicheley,  All  Souls'  College,  15.  [41. 

Child  and  Children  in  Winchester  Dialect,    33. 

Nature  in  Play,  472. 
Child's  Guide,  218. 

Rnles  for  Behavior,  222. 
Children,  Discipline,  343. 

Education,  343.         Perceptive  Faculties,  473. 

Curiosity,  199.         Constructive  Tastec,  473. 
Choristers  at  Winchester.  36,  40. 
Christ  Hospita'iSchool,  Flogging,  332. 
Christ-Cross-Row.  218. 
Christian  Education,  61, 134. 
Christian  Man,  Institute  of,  61,  144,  156. 

Erasmus,  Version,  63. 
Cicero,  cited.  413,  454. 
Circum,  at  Winchester,  21. 
Citizenship,  Education  for,  489. 
Cities  as  Seats  of  Learning.  315,  357,  460. 
City  of  London  School,  102 
Civil  Policy  and  Discourse,  Bacon,  452. 
Civil  Service,  Educational  Test  lor,  461. 
Classical  Studies,  Views  respecting  88. 

Arnold.  148.  Macoulay,  453. 

Duff.  128.  Todhunter.  532. 

Johnson,  360.  Wolsey,  174. 

Lyttleton,  125. 
CJaadfication  in  Public  Schools,  90,  136,  174. 

Forms,  22,  43,  90.  Divisions.  91,  137. 

Books,  22,  43.  Boole's,  292. 

Clemens.  Alexandrianus,  489. 
Clergy,  Duty  to  Schools,  345. 

Education,  15. 

Cloister  Time  at  Winchester,  22. 
Closing  Exercises,  319. 
Coleman,  George,  the  Rodiad,  336. 
COLBT,  JOHN,  Memoir,  49. 

Education,  State  of  Learning  about  1480,  49. 

Lectures  on  St.  Paul  at  Oxford,  50. 

Acquaintance  with  Erasmus  in  1«98.  50. 

Letter  to  Erasmuc.  and  Erasmus's  Reply,  51. 

Friendship  with  Thomas  (Sir)  More,  52. 

Prebendary  of  Durnesford  in  1502.  64.       [55. 

Dean  of  St.  Paul  in  1505— Divinity  Lectures, 

Erasmus's  Description  of  his  Hospitality,  55. 

Boys'  Reading  at  Dinner  from  Bible.  55. 

Charge  of  Heresy— Letter  of  Erasmus,  56. 

Founding  of  St.  Paul's  School— Death,  57. 

Erasmus's  Letters  on  his  Character,  57,  58. 

Rules  for  Admission  and  Continuance,  68. 


ENGLISH   PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW. 


597 


COLET,  JOHN,  Memoir,  49. 

Institution  of  a  Christian  Man,  63. 

Construct'n  of  the  eight  Parts  of  Speech,  69. 

Letter  to  Master  Lilye,  69.  , 

Austerity  in  Discipline,  72. 
Collins,  W.  L.,  Visit  to  Rugby,  16Q. 
Collis,  J.  D.,  Foundation  Schools,  1. 
Collegiate  or  Boarding  Students,  24. 
College  at  Eton,  6. 
Color  in  Frcebel's  System,  474. 
Combination,  Evils  of  School,  145. 
Comenius.  Orbis  Pictus,  192,  223. 

English  Edition,  189,  223,  227.  • 

Other  publications  in  London,  223. 
Commensales  at  Winchester,  23 
Common  People,  Schools  for,  121,  461. 
Commonplace  Book,  2S4. 

Commoners  at  Winchester,  22.  [461. 

Competition,  Free,  applied  to  Education,  451, 
Competitive  Examination,  462,  536. 

Election  to  Scholarship,  24. 

Evils  of  Excessive,  536. 
Companionship,  146,  515. 
Composition,  Exercises  in,  137. 
Conduct,  Advice  respecting,  530. 

Defoe,  430.  Fanshawe,  399. 

Smith,  415.  Colet,  641. 

Confabulatiunculse  Pneriles.  187. 
Confirmation,  Preparation  for,  109. 
Conflict  of  Studies,  in  reference  to 

Disc  pline,  529.  Life  purposes,  529. 

Examination  Tests,  461.  530. 
Consonants  in  the  Petty  School,  199,  224. 
Contents,  English  Pedagogy,  vii. 

Second  Series.  593. 

Studies  and  Conduct,  545. 

Primary  School,  553. 

American  Journal,  561. 

English  Schools,  585 

Cooke,  Sir  Anthony,  Education  of  Daughters, 
Conversational  Power,  460.  [443. 

Conversation.  Power  of  daily,  74. 
Constructive  Habits  of  Children,  473. 
Cooper's  Dictionary,  264. 
COOPER,  W.  M.,  The  Rod,  325. 
Coote,  Edward,  The  Schoolmaster,  189. 

Cited  by  Hoole,  199. 

Master's  Injunction  on  the  Scholar,  189. 
Corderius  Colloquies,  240. 
Corporal  Punishment,  History,  325. 

Abuses,  154,  345. 

Defence,  153. 

Opinions  respecting,  Arnold,  153. 
Ascham,  188.  Hood,  207,  336. 

Butler,  336.  Hoole,  313. 

Byron,  336.  Johnson,  363. 

Calderwood,  503,  519.     Lamb,  332. 
Coleman,  336.  Locke,  353. 

Colet,  72.  South,  344. 

Cooper,  325.  Steele,  345. 

Erasmus,  72.  Wolsey,  175. 

Goldsmith,  235. 
Course  of  Instruction  for  Grammar  Sch'ls,  87. 

Hoole's,  280,  290.  Pugby,  138,  165. 

Brinsly,  185.  St.  Mary's,  43. 

Ipswich,  173.  St.  Paul's,  73,  75. 

Courtesy,  121. 

Cowper,  the  Horn  Book,  217. 
Cranmer,  Primer  and  Catechism,  515. 
Cramming,  Essence  of,  461,  480,  540. 

Little  danger,  with  good  examiners,  462. 
Cricket,  8,  38.  105,  171. 
Crime  and  Ignorance,  461. 
Cross-row,  208,  217. 
Cruikshank's  Organ,  334. 
Cypher  and  cast  Accounts,  124. 
Curiosity  of  Children,  199. 
Customs,  Old  School,  8,  39,  318. 

Barring  out  the  Master,  318. 

Breaking-up  Day,  319. 


Customs,  Old  School,  8,  39,  318. 
Montem  at  Eton,  8. 
Potation  upon  Shrove  tide,  319. 

Daily  Routine  in  1658,  250,  278. 

Monday,  36,  282,  28'5,  288. 

Tuesday,  34,  238. 

Wednesday,  282.  288. 

Thursday,  34.  303,  238. 

Friday,  307.  322. 

Saturday.  35,  286. 

Sunday,  3,  310. 

Opening,  301. 

Intermission,  302. 

Closing,  301,  319. 

Hoole's  Grammar  School,  279. 

Rugby  in  1828.  138. 

Winchester,  33. 
Dames  at,  Eton,  111. 
Dame  Schools,  208,  229. 
Dancing.  Elyot,  412. 
DAWES.  DEAN,  Science-teaching,  479. 
Day  Schools  and  Boarding  Schools,  78. 
Day  Scholars,  Responsible  to  Parents,  78. 
Dead  Languages,  95, 103. 

Compared  with  Living,  101. 
Death,  Defoe's  Maxim,  383,  432. 
Declamations.  Daily,  309. 
Deduction  and  Induction,  4P5 
Defiant  and  Vicious  Pupils,  519. 
DEFOE,  DANIEL,  417-432. 

Plan  of  University  for  London,  421. 

Academy  of  Music.  422. 

Popular  Sunday  Concerts,  423. 

Scholar  and  Pedant,  424. 

Essay  on  Projects,  426. 
Improvement  of  English  Language.  427 
Extirpation  of  Swearing,  427. 

Academy  for  Women,  429. 

Military  Studies  and  Exercises,  428.         [430. 

Rules  of  Conduct— the  Dumb  Philosopher, 
Degrees,  Academic,  190,  357. 
Democritus,  Nature  and  Teaching,  489. 
Demosthenes,  281,  460. 
De  Quincey,  Death  of  a  Child,  383. 
Developm-'Bt,  Education  for,  490. 

Limitations  of  Time  and  Means,  491. 
Devotional  Exercises  309,  524. 
Dictation  in  Foreign  Languages,  543. 
Dictionaries,  Early,  264,  290. 
Diderot,  cited.  543. 
Diet  of  Schoolboys,  349. 
Difficulties  of  Scholars,  511. 
Diligence  in  Study  and  Work,  94,  185. 
Dilucidation    of    Comenius1     Reformation   of 

Schools,  223. 

Dinner  in  Public  Schools,  36. 
Dionysius  Halicarnassus,  212. 

Readirg  by  Syllables,  212. 
Disce  aut  Discede,  68. 
Discipline,  Scholastic,  12.  293. 

Instruments  or  Means — Eye.  501. 
Voice,  502.  Occupation,  12. 

Monitors,  106,  311.       Punishment.  12,  502. 
Discipline.School'Authorities— Arnold,151, 154. 

Calderwood,  500.  Hoole,  205,  293. 

Donaldson.  492.  Wolsey,  175. 

Erasmus,  72. 

Dispars  at  Winchester,  21. 
Divisions  at  Eton,  90. 

Eugby,  136. 

Dogmatic  Knowledge,  478. 
DONALDSON,  JAMES,  481-496. 

Science  of  Education,  481. 

Public  Primary  School,  488. 

Limitations  of  the  School,  490. 

Requisites  in  a  Revised  Code,  496. 
Donaldson,  J.  W.,  461. 

General  Culture  and  Special  Training,  461. 
Double  Translations.  Asckam's  plan,  272. 


598 


ENGLISH   PEDAGOGY — OLD    AND   NEW. 


Drawing,  88,  406. 

Drunkenness  a  National  Vice,  522. 

Drury,  John,  Reformed  School,  298. 

Domestic  Arrangements,  no. 

Domestic  or  Home  Education,  355,  390,  397. 

Domestic  Life,  Knglis-h,  in  16th  Century,  369. 

Evelyn  Family,  369. 

Mr*.  Walker,  385. 

Mrs.  Hutchinson,  391. 

Lady  Faushawe,  399. 

Countess  of  Warwick,  392. 

Duchess  of  Newcastle,  397. 
Doiiat  us's  Latin  Grammar.  2i. 
Dorset,  Countes*,  379. 
Dow,  Gerard,  The  Schoolmaster,  226. 
Dove,  Daniel,  The  Doctor,  433. 

Home  and  Home  Education,  433 

Village  Church  and  Graveyard,  434. 

Books  and  Reading.  435. 

Methods  of  Education,  438. 
Dugird's  Probation  Book,  252. 
Duff,  Grant,  127. 

Classics  in  General  Education.  127. 

Use  of  Transitions,  127. 

Verse  Composition,  128. 
Dulce  Domum,  at  Winchester,  39. 
Dumb  Philosopher,  Defoe.  432. 

Rules  of  Conduct,  430. 
Dumb-bells,  40S. 

Dunciad,  Schools  and  Universities,  338. 
Eaily  Impressions,  44^. 
Early  Instruction,  Processes,  480. 

Comenius,  223. 

Froebel,  471.  Southey,  440. 

Hool,>,  193.  Payne.  480. 

Early  English  Set. ool  Books,  208.  [208. 

Horn  Book,  208.  Geogmphy  in  Verse. 

A  B  C  Books,  ail.  Arithmetical  Rules  in 

Primers,  208.  Doggerel,  209. 

Arithmetic,  209,  210.       Grammar  Rules,  208. 
Early  Rising,  20,  432. 
Earnestness,  Power  of,  143, 145. 
Eating,  35,  172.  349. 
Edinburgh  University,  356. 
Edgewortb.  Maria,  cited,  479. 
Edorn,  in  Winton  dialect,  30. 
Edward  VI.,  Education  in  his  reign,  421. 

Grammar  Schools  founded,  3. 

Eton  College.  5. 

Education  and  Instruction,  492. 
Education,  Art  of,  468,  527. 

Chair  of,  528. 
Education,  Defined  and  Described,  vii.  x. 

Arnold,  141.  Goldsmith,  347. 

Calderwood,  497.  Huxley,  478. 

Currie,  513.  Johnson,  359. 

Donaldson,  481.  Parr,  364. 

Froebel,  472.  Payne,  468. 

Todhunter,  529. 
Education,  Designed  or  Formal,  182,  481. 

Domestic,  369.  Collegiate,  457. 

Industrial,  366.  School,  224. 

Mutual,  311.  Infant,  471. 

Military,  428.  Life  and  Affairs,  460. 

Female,  384,  399,  427.      Self,  469. 

Physical,  188.  406.          Moral,  156,  499. 

Religious,  109,  142. 
Education — Aims, 

Individual  Development,  490. 

State  and  Social,  MO.     Citizen«hip,  489. 

Trades,  488.  Liberal,  4-S7. 

Educative  Studie",  426,  493. 
Education,  Science  of,  Donaldson.  481. 

Payne.  465.  Jolly,  527. 

Egg-nip  day.  39. 
Egbert,  at  Winchester,  17. 
Election  Chamber,  37. 
Electron  to  Exhibitions,  Scholarship,  37,  48. 

Practice  at  Rugby,  136. 
Elective  Studies,  459. 


Elementary,  Mnlcaster,  178. 

Study  of  English  Language,  178. 

Slavery  to  Latin  tongue.  17!». 
Elizabeth,  Queeil,  20,  330. 

Public  School*  founded.  3. 
Klm.-r,  teacher  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  399. 
Eloquence,  458. 
ELTOT,  SIR  THOMAS,  memoir,  401. 

The  Governor,  403. 

Castle  of  Health,  402. 
Emulation,  as  a  motive,  304,  362. 

Kisks,  Individual,  521. 

Nattonal,  521. 

Encouragement  to  Pupils,  523. 
Endowment.  Evils  ol.  451. 

Kindred  and  Locality,  87. 
Endowed  Grammir  Schools,  1—178. 

Characteristic  Features,  1. 

Chronological  Development,  3. 

Examples  of  City  and  Provincial,  17,  59. 

Eton  College,  Windsor,  5. 

St.  Mary's  College,  Winchester.  17. 

St.  Paul's  School,  London,  59. 

Rugby  Grammar  School,  129. 

Shrewsbury  Free  Grammar  School.  11. 

Merchant  Taylor's  School,  173. 

Ipswich  Grammar  School,  173.  [81,  117. 

Endowed  Grammar  Schools— General  Survey, 

Origeii.  2, 17,  49.  81. 

Endowments— Revenues— Government,  83. 

Statutes,  85. 

Scholars— Foundation— Non-Collegiate,  87. 
Age,  Number,  87. 

Instruction— Courses  and  Subjects,  87,  95. 
Classic-,  Latin,  Greek,  87, 113, 121,  128. 
Arithmetic,  Mathematics,  88,98. 
History,  Geography,  Natural  Science,  89. 
Modern  Languau:  s.  Drawing,  Music,  89. 

Organization  for  In-t'otion  ana  Discipline, 91. 
Forms,  Divisions,  Promotions,  91. 

Lessons,  Preparations,  Motives,  91. 

Results,  Modifications  in  Studies,  100. 

Modern  Department,  French    aiid    German 
System,  102.  [103. 

Modern  Schools,  Marlborough,  Cheltenham, 

Deficient  Preparation,  Home  Influence,  105. 

Physical  Training,  Games.  Sports,  106. 

Discipline,  Moi.'itorial  System,  106. 

Religious  Instruction,  109. 

Financial  Condition,  Fees,  110. 

Domestic  and  Sanitary  Arrangements,  110. 

Modifications  recommended,  112. 

Services  rendered  by  Pub  ic  Schools,  116. 
English  Free  Schools,  11,  190. 
English  Home  Lile  of  17th  Century,  369,  463. 

Evelyn  Pami'y.  369. 

Mrs.  Harrison,  399. 

Mrs.  Hutchinscn,  391. 

Mrs.  Sadler  Walker,  3S5. 

Boyle  Family.  392. 

Countess  of  Warwick,  392. 

Duchess  of  Newcastle,  397. 

Lady  Fanshawe,  399. 

Lady  Bacon,  Burleigh,  463. 
English  Language,  Subject  of  Study, 

Brinuly,  179,  Ib7.  MHcaulay/456. 

Defoe,  427.  Mulcaster.  178,  182. 

Hoole,  221.  W(.l<i-y,  176. 

English  Pedagogy— Old  and  New,  v.  vii.  561. 
English  Schoolmaster,  by  Coote,  189. 
English  Universities,  3(57,451. 

Wealth  and  Privileges,  451. 

Studies,  too  few— not  of  right  kind,  452. 
Mathematics,  Classical  Literature,  453. 
Latin  Language  and  Literature,  l.r>i. 
(Jrerk  Language  and  Literature,  455. 
Complete  and  Liberal  Education,  457. 
Curriculum  for  the  gifted  and  trained,  458. 
English  Universities,  estimated  by 

Goldsmith,  356.  Macaulay,  451. 


ENGLISH   PEDAGOGY— OLD  AND   NEW. 


599 


English  Universities,  estimated  by 

Johnson,  368.  South,  368. 

Jones,  368.  Parr,  367. 

Epistolary  Writing  in  Hoole's  School,  275. 
Equivalents,  in  Foreign  Languages,  537. 
Erasmus,  Account  of  himself,  51. 

First  Visit  to  England,  50. 

Introduction  to  Colet,  51. 

Letter  to  Colet  from  Oxford  in  1499,  53. 

Opposition  in  Oxford  to  the  New  L^arning,53. 

Description  of  Colet's  hospitality.  55. 

Letters  on  Colet's  Death  and  Character,  57. 

Description  of  St.  Paul's  School,  61. 

Original  Organization — Governors  laymen, 62. 

Latin  Version  of  Colet's  Christian  Man,  64. 

Iambic  Vemfiration  of  the  Child's  Hymn, 66. 

Dedication  of  De  Copia  Verbprum  to  Colet, 70. 

Conversation  with  a  Candidate,  71. 

Views  of  Discipline  and  Teaching,  72,  73. 

Influence  of  Example,  Power  of  Habits,  12. 

Aid  to  Wolsey  in  Plan  for  Ipswich,  173. 

De  Ratione  Instituendi  Discipulos,  271. 

Colloquies,  estimate  by  Southey,  445. 
Erskine  and  the  Horn  Book,  217. 
Eth  cs,  Christian,  190. 
Eton  Colleg-',  Windsor,  and  Founder,  5. 

History,  Discipline,  Expenses,  6. 

Games,  Festival,  Graduates.  8. 
Evans,  Roger,  Penmanship,  315. 
Evelyn  Family.  369. 

Home  Life.  381. 

Home  Education,  384. 

Woman's  Duty,  384. 
Evils  of  Public  Schools,  145. 
Examinatio  Latins  Gramaticse,  263. 
Examinations,  92,  103. 

Earliest  in  Merchant  Taylor's  School,  9.,. 

Competitive,  491,  536.    For  Teaching,  497. 

Entrance,  93.  Test  Studies,  92,  530. 

Example,  Power  of,  72,  73,  161. 
Exclusion  from  Public  Schools,  131, 154,  520. 

Hoole's  Method,  314. 

Wase  s  Suggestion,  190. 

Shutting  out  the  Master  Once  a  Year,  317. 
Exercise  of  Faculties,  Law  ol  Growth,  Payne, 
Exhibitions,  Award  of,  48.  [472. 

Experience,  476. 

Experiments  and  Experimenter,  534. 
Expression,  Power  of,  360. 
Experimental  Philosophy,  534. 
Eye,  Power  of,  in  Discipline,  500. 

Facts,  Observation,  and  Investigation,  468. 

Foundation  of  Science  Teaching,  470,  478. 
Fagging  in  English  Public  Schools,  107,  152. 

Rugby,  152.  Eton,  103. 

Winchester,  34. 

Falsehood,  ia  Public  Schools,  145. 
Family  Life,  and  the  State,  499. 

Plato  and  Socrates,  499. 

Christian  Idea,  499. 

Illustration  of  Coral,  433. 
Faults,  Diminution  of,  153. 

Habit  of  finding,  502. 
Fant^hawe,  Lady,  Advice  to  her  Son,  399. 
Fear  as  a  Motive,  3(53,  510. 
Fees  in  Public  Schools,  108. 

Free  Schools,  so  called,  11. 
Female  Education,  369,  391,  399. 

Colleges  in  17th  Century,  384. 

Defoe,  427.  Macaulay,  399. 

Ferrula,  Virga,  Ferrula,  214,  325. 
Fielding  in  Cricket,  108. 
Financial  Arrangements,  Public  Schools,  110. 

Endowments,  83.         Charges,  110. 

Fees,  110.  Board's  Pupils,  47,  172. 

Fisher,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  49. 
Flogger,  Professional  in  Greece,  326. 
Flogging,  National  Practice- 
Dutch,  326.  German,  325,  327. 


Flogging,  National  Practice- 
English,  327,  345.  Jewish,  826,  336. 

French,  326.  327.  Roman,  325. 

Grecian,  326.  Scotch,  334  363. 

Flogging,  English  Public  Schools,  108. 

Christ's  Hospital,  330.    St.  Mary's,  20,  46  330. 

Eton,  331.  338.  St.  Paul,  72. 

Rughy,  153.  170,  331.       Westminster,  329. 

Mt-rchant  Taylor,  327.     Shrewsbury   12,  330 

Norwich,  330. 
Fools,  Asylum  for,  proposed  by  Defoe,  426. 

Learned,  426. 
Foot-ball,  38. 

Forgiveness,  Power  of,  520. 
Formation  of  Character,  513. 
Forms  in  English  Public  Schools,  90,  224 

Multiplication,  80. 

Parallel,  80. 

Place  in,  Hoole,  305. 
Foundation  of  Science  Teaching,  477. 
Founder's  Kin,  25. 

Speech  at  Winchester,  37. 
Foundationers,  86,  136. 
Free,  as  applied  to  Schools,  11. 
Free  Competition  as  applied  to  Elementary 

Schools,  461. 
Freedom  of  Instruction,  432,  458. 

Ignorance  lefiFrte  will  not  be  Educated,  461. 
Free  Grammar  School  defined,  31,  124. 
Free  Schools,  Treatise  on.  190. 
Freshness  of  Mind  and  Body,  140. 
Fretting  by  the  Teacher,  508. 
Friday,  Weekly  Repetitions,  307. 

Flogging-dny  at  Eaton,  a31. 

Day  of  Doom  at  Winchester,  22. 
Froebel's  Kindergarten  System,  471. 

Evolution  of  the  Systt-m.  472. 
Frugality,  Virtue  of,  350,  353. 

Gabell,  Henry,  31. 

Rebellion  under,  81. 
Games  in  Public  Schools,  165. 

Eton,  6.  Rugby,  171. 

Winchester,  38. 
Garden,  Relating  to  House,  s76. 

Evelyns,  376. 
Gentlemen's  Sons'  Education,  121,  181,  403. 

Manners  and  Conduct,  415. 
Gentleness  and  Good  humor,  432. 
German  Aspects  of  Education,  526. 

Geography.  510. 

Language,  Study,  542. 
Book-manual  for,  541. 
Construing  Book,  542. 

Schoul  Punishments,  504. 

Aim  of  the  Primary  School,  499. 

Religious  Instruction,  495. 
Geography.  Modern  Methods,  485,  494. 

German  Proficiency,  511. 
Geography  and  History,  485,  510. 
Gifts,  Froebel's  System,  474. 
Gingerbread,  ABC  book  made  of,  215,  217. 
Governor,  or  Training  for  Commonwealth,  401. 

Pn  face  and  DC  dication,  403. 

Scarcity  of  Good  Schoolmasters,  404. 

Studies  for  Future  Magistrates,  404. 

Music,  Painting,  Carving,  406. 

Poetry,  Oratory— Tullv  and  Plato,  407. 

Muscular  Exercise— Wrestling,  408. 

Running,  Swimming,  Riding,  409. 

Hunting,  Dancing,  Archery,  413. 

Moral  Culture,  414. 
GOLDSMITH.  OLIVER,  347. 

Essay  on  Education,  347. 

Letter  to  his  Brother,  353. 

Letter  to  a  Pupil,  354. 

Foreign  Travel  and  Residence,  355. 

Characteristics  of  different  Universities,  357. 
Government  of  Public  Schools,  110. 

Administration  of  Funds,  80. 


600 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY— OLD  AND  NEW. 


Government  of  Public  Schools,  110. 

Affairs  of  the  School,  80. 

Exclusive  Patronage,  80. 

Literary  Otmliftcatiung,  80. 

Personal  Eminence,  80. 

Rugby,  St.  1'juTs,  77. 

Shrewsbury.  1'2. 

Winchester.  -10. 
Goddard,  William  Stanley,  30. 

Scholarship,  31. 

Benefaction  to  Winchester,  31. 
QomerH,  Gohomers,  39. 
Governmeat  and  Primary  Schools,  495. 
Good  Teachers  and  Inspection,  496. 
Good  Humor  in  Teachers,  500. 
Good  Dispositions  to  be  encouraged,  523. 
Goulburn,  Dr..  at  Rugby,  162 
Grammar  Schoolmaster,  Ancient  Rank,  59. 
Grammar  Scholars  in  Universities.  60. 
Grammar  School,  Studies  for,  Hoole,  267. 

Brinsly,  185.  Wolsey's  School,  173. 

Johnson,  360.  Wickham,  18. 

Grammar  as  a  Study,  95. 

Importance  attached  to,  16,  18. 

Time  for  Lessons,  306. 
Grammars,  Text-books, 

Latin,  291,  Greek,  280,  289,  291. 

Hebrew,  287,  291.  German,  537. 

Gratuitous,  not  necessarily  a  Free,  School,  31. 
Great  Public  Schools,  81. 

Staple  of  Instruction,  18,  88. 

Royal  Visits,  19. 
Greek  Language,  455. 

Christianity,  118. 

Use  in  early  ages  of  the  Chnrch,  119. 
Greek,  Instruction  in,  in  England,  49,  121. 

Bishop  Fisher's  Agency,  49. 

Erasmus,  50. 

Dean  Colet,  50. 

Cornelius  Vitellius  at  Oxford,  50. 

Grammar  at  Oxford,  50. 

Grammar  at  Cambridge,  50. 

Linacer  and  tirocyne,  50. 


Opposition  at  Oxford  in  1499.  54. 
Kin"  (He 


ing  (Henry  VIII.)  Command*  its  study,  60 
Argument  before,  54.  [54 

Waynfleet,  Greek  Foundation  in  Magdalen, 

Greek  Grammar  in  1661.  269. 

Recent  Movements,  124i 
Grocyne  and  Greek,  50. 

Lectures  in  London,  1505,  55. 
Grundal,  Bishop,  and  St.  Bees  School,  123. 
Guide  for  the  Child  and  Youth,  219. 
Gulhrie,  Dr.,  cited.  520. 
Guy,  Richard,  Southey's  Ideal  Sch'lmaster,  438. 

Pleasant  Methods  and  Discipline,  444. 

Hacket,  a  Scotch  Flagellator,  334. 

Half-fagot,  35. 

Half-holiday,  302. 

Half  remedies,  34. 

Hallam.  cited,  433. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  cited,  on  much  reading,  462. 

Happiness  in  Activity,  472. 

Hartlib,  English  Editor  of  Comenius,  223. 

Head-ma«ter  in  Public  Schools,  113. 

Appointment,  163.          Emoluments,  163. 

Authority,  155,  163. 

Employment  of  Assistants,  163. 
Heart,  Learning  by,  48. 
Health  in  Education,  347. 
Beber,  Bishop,  379. 
Hebrew  in  Grammar  Schools,  123,  186,  286. 

Catechism,  290. 
Help,  Conditions  of  timely,  516. 

Direct  and  Indirect,  .VJ-'I. 

Methods,  523. 
Helps,  Sir  Arthur,  389. 
Henry  VI.  and  Eton  College,  3,  5. 

King's  College,  Cambridge,  5. 


Henry  VII.  at  Winchester,  19. 

Henry  VIII.,  Greek  K-ader  at  Cambridge,  1«. 

Primer  and  Form  of  Public  Prayer,  415.   . 

Elyot's  Dedication  of  Ca«tle  of  Health,  403. 
High  School  at  Winchester.  17. 
Hills,  Richard,  9. 

Hills,  Excursion  at  Winchester,  22. 
History  in  Public  Schools,  148,  149. 

Examination  Test,  531. 

Modern.  149. 
Holberg,  Baron,  357. 
Hodder.  James.  315. 

Copy-books.  316. 
Holidays,  34,  319. 
Home  Educa'ion,  369,  391. 

Evelyn.  369.  Goldsmith,  353. 

Johnson,  362.  Sonthey,  433. 

Home  Employments,  381. 
Home,  Ideal  of  Daniel  Dove,  434. 
Home,  Idea  of,  499. 
Home  Influence,  105. 

Mistress  and  Servants,  389. 
Home  Life  and  Education,  Examples,  369. 

Sixteenth  Century,  399. 

Seventeenth  Century,  369. 

Southey's  Picture,  433,  437. 
Home  Preparation  of  Lessons,  507. 
Hood,  T.,  Irish  Schoolmaster,  336. 
HOOLE.  CHARLES.  191. 

Edition  of  Orbis  Pictus,  192,  223. 

Object-teaching.  192. 

New  Discovery  of  the  Old  Art,  195. 

Petty  or  Primary  School,  195. 

Grammar  School,  223. 

Scholastic  Discipline,  293. 

Summary  of  hia  Methods.  323. 
Hoosier  Schoolmaster,  cited,  520. 
Horace,  cited,  174. 
Horn  Book  of  the  14th  Century,  208,  216. 

Literature  of,  216. 

Shakespeare— Shenstone— Prior,  217. 
Horsing  in  Schools  of  Pompeii,  326. 

A  School  Punishment,  326. 
Hostarins,  or  Under-master,  18. 
Hot,  at  Football,  39. 

Line  of  Touch,  39. 

Honpsy-doupsy,  School  Punishment,  334. 
Hours  oi  Study,  Number,  91. 
Household  Duties  in  Wealthiest  Families,  381. 
Hunt,  N..  Handmaid  of  Arithmetic,  209. 
Hunter,  Dr.  Johnson's  Teacher,  359. 
Huxley,  Scientific  Training,  479. 
Hugh,  Schoolmaster  or  St.  Paul  in  1300,59. 
Humiliation  in  Punishment,  503. 
Hume,  David,  Aid  to  Teachers,  461. 

Free  Competition  and  Education,  461. 
Hunt,  T.,  Handmaid  of  Arithmetic,  209. 
Hutchinson.  Mrs.  Lucy  Apsley,  391. 

Parents,  and  Home  and  Home  Educat'n,  391. 
Hyde,  Thomas,  at  Winchester,  19. 
Hylles,  Art  of  Vulgar  Arithmetic,  209. 

Idleness,  General,  145. 
Idleness,  Unconquerable,  93,  314. 
Ignorance,  Popular,  463. 
Illustrated  School  Books,  n«. 

Child's  Guide,  222. 

Orbis  Pictus,  227. 
Improvements  Made  or  Needed — 

Elementary  School,  485. 

Secondary,  4,  116. 

Universities,  357,  486,  535. 
Impositions,  170. 

Winchester,  35.  46. 
Inability,  Natural,  333. 
Inculcation  and  Training,  518. 
Index  to  Studies  and  Conduct,  545. 

Primary  Schools,  553. 

English  Pedagogy— First,  585. 
Second  Series,  593. 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND   NEW. 


601 


Index  to  Studies  and  Conduct,  545. 

American  Journal  of  Education,  561. 
India  Civil  Service,  Examinations  for,  461. 
Individual  Impressions  to  Groups,  493. 
Individualization,  516. 

Condition  of  Appropriate  Help,  516. 
Indolence,  Stupidity,  93. 
Industrial  Element,  405. 

Girls'  School,  366. 
Inner-world,  Human  Experience,  494. 

Instruction  in,  494. 
Infants,  Modern  Treatment,  485. 
Infandum  Address  to  Elizabeth,  20. 
Information  not  the  End  of  Teaching,  498. 
Influence  not  Government,  502. 
Informator  at  Winchester,  18. 
Inspection  of  Primary  Schools,  495. 
Interest  of  the  Pupils  in  the  Subject,  484,  504. 

Law  of  his  Growth,  484. 

Power  of  Exciting,  484.  504. 

Test  of  the  Educative  Value  of  Subject,  493. 
Instruction,  Conditions  and  Modes,  504. 
Instruction  and  Training,  525. 
Instruction,  Educative  and  Non-educative,  492. 

Geography,  494.  Reading,  496. 

History,  494.  Arithmetic,  496. 

Religion,  495.  Writing,  496. 

Ipswich  Grammar  School,  173. 

Origin— Masters,  173. 

Subjects— Authors— Methods,  174. 
First  Class,  174.  Fifth  Class,  175. 

Second  Class,  174.       Sixth  Class,  175. 
Third  Class,  174.          Seventh  Class,  175. 
Fourth  Class,  175.        Eighth  Class,  176. 

Discipline,  176. 

Janua  Lingnarum,  223,  245,  272. 
Janua  Reserata,  223. 
Jerks  as  Punishment,  312. 
JOHNSON,  SAMUEL,  359. 

Estimate  of  his  own  Education,  359. 

Influence  of  Education,  359. 

Scheme  for  a  Grammar  School,  360. 

Studv  of  Greek  and  Latin,  360. 

Desire  and  Value  of  Knowledge  to  Working 
Classes,  361. 

Public  and  Private  Schools  Compared,  362. 

Refinements  and  Novelties  in  Education,  362. 

Corporal  Punishment  by  Schoolmasters,  363. 

Teaching  by  Lectures,  363.  [363. 

Opinion  of  Milton  and  Locke  on  Education, 

University  Education,  368. 

Definition  of  Free  Grammar  School,  124. 
Joel  at  Winchester,  18. 
JOLLY,  Professional  Training  of  Teachers,  527. 

University  Chair  of  Education,  528. 
Jones,  Sir  William,  368. 
Johnson,  Christopher,  21. 

History  of  Winchester  College,  21. 
Jonas,  Justus,  57. 
Justinian,  Emperor,  179. 
Juvenal,  School  Punishments,  326. 
Juvenile  Literature,  350. 

Kant,  Padagogik,  486. 
Kemshead,  Science  Teaching,  479. 

Child,  Face  to  Face  with  Nature,  480. 
Kennedy,  Dr.,  Shrewsbury  School,  11. 

Libera  Schola,  11. 
Keate,  Great  Flogger,  332. 
Kindergarten  System,  471. 

Gifts  for  Observation,  474. 

Objections  to  System,  475. 

Progress,  476. 
Kinner,  Cyprian,  223. 
Kin,  Privileges  of,  87. 
Knight,  Life  of  Colet,  49. 

Greek  Learning  about  1500,  49. 
Knowledge,  Organized,  477. 

Value  of  all,  362. 


Knowledge  and  Ignorance,  relative,  861. 
Knowledge  and  Pedantry,  426. 
Knowledge  and  Powei  of  Communicating,  497. 
Known  and  Unknown,  Combination,  509. 
Koraensky,  Comenius.  223. 
Kynaston,  Master  of  St.  Paul,  78. 
Responsibility  for  Boys  out  of  School,  78. 

Labor,  Manual,  406. 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  463. 

Bacon,  463.  Lucy,  396. 

Borgle,  393.  Morton,  372. 

Burleigh,  463.  Ranleagh,  392. 

Fanshawe,  399. 
Laleham,  Arnold  at,  132. 

Lamb.  C.,  Recollections  of  Christ  Hospital,  332. 
Landor,  W.  S  ,  The  Shell,  436. 
Landscape  Gardening,  375. 
Language,  Study  of,  62. 

Ancient,  456. 

Modern.  456. 

Langley,  Reference  Library,  318. 
Latin  Lan/nage  and  Literature,  118. 

English  Grammar  Schoo  s,  87,  118. 

Hoole's  Introduction  to,  227. 

Macau  lay.  454. 

Latin  into  English,  and  vice  versa,  243,  272. 
Latin  Versification,  127,  277. 
Latimer,  and  Greek  Learning,  49. 
Laymen,  Governors  of  St.  Paul's  School,  62. 
Learning  and  Teaching,  478,  498. 

Pedantry,  424. 

Leave  Out,  at  Winchester,  35. 
Leather  Strap  for  Punishment,  326. 
Lectures,  Teaching  by,  460. 

Goldsmith,  358. 

Johnson,  363. 
Leeds  Free  School,  J24. 
Lessons,  Preparation  of,  92,  508,  544. 

Mutual  Hearing,  508. 
Lessons  and  Games  Alternate,  2. 
Letter-writing,  176,  273. 
Lewinham  Grammar  School,  317. 

Library  for  Master's  use,  317. 

Exercise  in  Latin,  274. 
Libera  Schola,  Dr.  Kennedy  on,  11. 
Liberal  Education,  457. 
Liberty  of  Instruction,  121,  458. 
Library  in  every  School,  275,  317. 

Educational,  528. 
Lily,  William,  61. 

Master  of  St.  Paul's  School,  61. 

Grammar,  69,  262. 
Lilv's  Grammar,  Hoole's  Method  with,  261. 

Wolsey's  Use,  174. 
Limitations  to  Development,  490. 

Moral  Training,  514.      Teacher's  Power,  490. 

Religious  Instruction,  143. 
Linacre  at  Oxford,  50. 
Living,  Ability  to  get  a,  488. 
Locke,  John,  at  Oxford,  340. 
Logic  and  Scholastic  Philosophy,  190. 
London  Quarterly  Review,  Study  of  Greek,  124. 
London  City,  Grammar  Schools,  111. 

City  Day  School,  10*.     King's  College,  103. 

Merchant  Taylor's,  9.     St.  Paul's  School,  49. 

University,  156,  458. 

Defoe's  Project,  421. 
Long,  William,  17. 

Statutes  of  St.  Mary,  17. 
Longbow  and  Musket,  428. 

General  Practice  qualified  all  for  War,  428. 
Long  Chamber  at  Eton,  6. 
Louth  Grammar  School,  Seal  of,  326. 
Lowth,  Life  of  Wykeham,  15. 

Tribute  to  Wykeham,  15. 

Obligations  to  Oxford,  367. 
Lucas,  Margaret,  397. 

Duchess  of  Newcastle,  398. 
Lucy,  Lady  Alice,  380,  396. 


602 


ENGLISH    PEDAGOGY — OLD   AND   NEW. 


Ludus  Literarius,  Brinsly's  Treatise,  185. 

Content*.  185. 

Rules  for  the  Master,  188. 
Ludeinagister,  213. 
Luth,  r,  Child's  Primer.  215. 
Lyttleton,  Lord,  Science  and  Greek,  125. 

MACAULAY,  THOMAS  BABINOTON,  399,  449. 
Academical  Leirning  in  1806,  451. 
Objections  to  Oxford  und  Cambridge,  451. 
Wraith  and  Privilege*.  452. 
Influence  of  Endowments,  452. 
Studies  too  Pew,  and  not  of  Right  Kind.  453. 
Mathematics  Utility,  and  Objection,  454. 
Latin  Language  and  Literature,  45t. 
Greek  Language  and  Literature.  455. 
Ancient  and  Modern  Studies,  456. 
London  University,  459. 
University  Teaching  of  Athens  Life,  460. 
State  and  Elementary  Education,  461. 
Examinations  for  India  Service,  461. 
Female  Education  in  the  16th  Century,  463. 
Major,  John,  and  Dean  Colet,  55. 
Migister  Scholarum,  59. 
Manners  Maketh  Man.  Motto,  18. 
How  taught  in  Dundonald,  333. 
Mansel,  Laws  of  Thought.  482. 
Maps  in  Ueographr,  485,  510. 


Geography  and  Hist  try,  485,  510. 
arcel,  Valu 


Marcel,  Value  of  Reiteration.  529. 

Power  of  Audition  in  Language,  540. 
Marking,  10  93,  311. 
Marks  for  Absence  and  Faults,  312. 

Valuation  of  Studies,  12,  462. 
Marl  borough  School,  102. 
MASTER'S  METHOD  IN  1661,  Hoole's,  267. 
Fourth  Fawn,  267. 
Daily  Routine  fora  Week,  267. 
Brinsly,  Poole,  Stockwood,  Bird?,  etc.,  26-5. 
Rhetoric,  Dugard,  Farnaby,  Home,  268. 
Greek  Grammars,  Camdens,  Busbic,  etc.,  269. 
Pasor's  Lexicon,  Dugard  Rudimenta,  269. 
Gregorie's  Nomenclatura,  Poseelius,  Shirley, 
Perence,  Method  of  Studying,  270.  [270. 

Erasmus  de  Ratione  Instituendi,  271. 
Acting  Plays,  Janua  Litinje  Linguae,  271. 
Rider's  Diet.,  Tnlly's  Epistles,  Textor's,  272. 
Ascham's  Double  Translations.  272. 
Sturmius,   Fabrltius,   Clerk,   Erasmus,  272. 
Walker's     Particles,     Willis's     Anglicisms, 

Clerk,  Hawkins,  273. 
Epistolographia,  Erasmus's  de  Conscriben- 

dis.  Buchleri.  275. 

Tully's  Epistles,  Two  of  their  Own,  275. 
Ovid  de  '1  ristibus,  English  Poetry,  English 

Parnassus,  276. 
Latin    Versification,    Stockwood's    Progym- 

nasma.  277. 

Sandy's  Ovid,  Clerk's  Dux  Poeticus,  277. 
Rosse's    English    Mythologist,  Bacon's    de 

Sapientia  veterum,  278. 
Wit's  Commonwealth.  Harmar's  Lesser  Cat 

echism,  in  Latin  and  Greek.  278. 
Daily  Programme  for  a  Week.  278.  [280. 

Fifth  Form,  Greek  Testament,  Grammars, 
Isocrates,  Demosthenes  by  Loinus,  281. 
Posselius  Apothems,  281. 
Tully  and  otr.er  Lat  n  Authors,  281. 
Turning  Latin  into  Greek,  and  Greek  into 

Latin,  280,  282. 
Grammars—  Busby,  Caninias,  Ceporinus,  280. 

Chrysolora,  Cleonard,  280.  [282. 

Hesiod's  Theognis,  Castilion's  Praclectiones, 
Lexicons  —  Tscrevelius,    Garthi,     Rulandi. 

Morelius,  etc.,  282.  [282. 

History—  Justin,  Cinsar,    Florus,    Erasmus, 
Janua  Linguarum  Graeca,  Simonius,  Virgil, 
Mastery  System,  Quick  on.  :.:::).  [282. 

Mathematics  as  a  Study,  454,  532. 
Special  Advantages,  531. 


Mathematics  as  a  Study,  454,  532. 

Disadvantages,  453,  533. 

Opinions  respecting 
Bohn,  358.  Macaulay.  454, 461. 

Goldsmith,  358.  Todhunter.  531,  533. 

Pub  ic  School*,  88,  96.   Webster,  190. 
Meads  at  Winchester,  23.  35 
Mechnnic  Arts,  Instruction  in,  350. 
Mertiievel  Primer.  De-cribed,  208. 
Melancthon,  cited,  188. 

Rule  with  Scholars,  188. 
Memoir,  Arnold,  129. 

Boyle,  392.  Brinsly,  189. 

Colet,  49.  Coote,  189. 

Defoe,  417.  Elyot,  401. 

Erasmus,  51.  Evelyn.  369. 

Fanshawe.  399.  Hartlih.  2i3. 

Hutchinson,  391.  Hoole,  191. 

Johnson,  359.  Kinner.  223. 

Lily,  61.  Lucas,  397. 

Macanlay,  449.  Mulcaster,  177. 

Parr,  3»>5.  Payne,  465. 

Payne,  337.  R-tnleagh,  292. 

Recorde,  210.  Rytwyse,  la. 

Sadter,  385.  Smith,  415. 

South,  343.  Steele,  345. 

Textor,  445.  Thornton,  160. 

Walker,  387.  Wayneflete,  19. 

Wykeham,  13. 
Memory,  when  freshest,  306. 

Verbal  or  Local,  509. 

Aided  by  Analysis,  509. 
Merchant  Taylor's  School,  9. 

Mulca>ter's  Mastership,  9. 

Svstem  of  Probation,  9. 
Military  Academy,  Defoe's  Plan,  427. 
Mind  and  Body,  181,  466. 
Mind,  Science  of,  483. 

Laws  Dictate  Methods  of  Edncating,  485. 

Relative  Value  of  Methods,  486. 
Moab  in  Winchester  Dialect,  30. 
Moberly,  George,  32.  41,  46. 
Modern  Education,  103. 

Non-Classical  Feature,  127,  456. 
Modern  Departments  in  Public  Schools,  101. 
Modern  Schools,  102. 
Money  Motive,  526. 
Monitorial  System  in  Public  Schools,  45.  106. 

Eton,  7.  Rugby,  151,  162. 

Boole's  School,  311.        Winchester,  22, 34, 45. 
Monitors,  Powers  of,  45,  170,  312. 

Set  Tasks,  170. 

Inflict  Punishments,  46,  107,  382. 

Preser.e  Order,  46,  312. 
Montem  at  Eton,  8. 
More,  t«ir  Thomas,  and  Celet,  52. 
Moral  Education,  156,  499. 
Moral  Sciences,  461. 

Value  in  Examinations,  461,  534. 
Moral  Training,  518,  523. 
Morton,  Lady,  372. 
Motives  to  Study- 
Promotion  and  Prizes,  92. 

Home  Approbation,  105. 

Punishraunts,  175. 

Motiv.  s  of  the  Teacher's  Work,  525. 
MULCASTER.  RICHARD,  9,  177. 

Elementary,  or  the  English  Tongue,  178. 

Positions  in  the  Training  of  Children,  180. 

Plan  of  a  Teacher's  College,  184. 
Multiplication  is  Vexation,  etc.,  209. 
Multum  non  Multa,  4<JO,  4ttt. 
I  Murray,  Pope's  allusion  to,  339. 
Mui-ic.  Value  of.  99,  422. 

Academy  proposed  by  Defoe,  422. 
Musket-practice  and  the  Longbow,  428. 
Mutual  Examination  by  Pupils,  306. 

Recitations  to  and  by,  307. 

Nail  or  Candle  Sconce,  at  Winchester,  27. 


ENGLISH   PEDAGOGY — OLD   AND   NEW. 


603 


Natural  Curiosity,  505. 

Natural  and  Formal  Education,  468. 

Natural  History,  534. 

Natural  Philosophy,  study  of,  351.  [167. 

Natural  Science  in  Grammar  Schools,  98,  113, 

Nature's  System  of  Education,  466. 

Growth  of  Body  and  Mind,  466. 
Nature,  and  Nature'"  God,  342. 

Taught  by  fact?,  480. 
National  Pedagogy,  545. 
National  Vices,  521. 

Teacher's  relations  to,  522. 
Naevius,  John,  Letter  of  Erasmus  to,  64. 
New  Eng'anrt  Primer,  Illustrated  Alphabet,  218. 
New  Testament  in  Petty  School,  225. 

English,  Latin,  Greek,  310. 

Read  by  pupil*  in  turn,  310. 
New  College  at  Oxford,  17. 
Necessary  Knowledge,  not  always  earliest,  489. 
Necessary  Things,  easy  to  obtain,  489. 
Newberry,  Terrors  of  the  Rod,  336. 
Nicholas,  John,  26,  33. 
Nicol's  Organ,  333. 
Nit  buhr,  cited,  541. 

Nightingale,  Florence,  existing  home  life,  379. 
Noblemen's  Son?,  50,  358. 
Non-comformists  Academy,  462. 
Non  Multa,  sed  Multum,  462. 
Normal  School,  in  England,  527. 
Note  Book,  in  Wolsey's  Plan,  174. 
Nowell'a  Catechism,  290,  310. 

Obedience,  1,  414. 

Object  Lessons  for  Beginners,  192,  505. 

Comenius  and  Hoole.  191,  193. 
Obstinate  Idleness,  Punishment,  519. 
Observation,  Culture  of,  474. 

Caiderwood.  506.  Frcebel,  474. 

Hooh;  in  1658,  192.          Donalds  >n,  493. 
Observation  of  Details, 

Color,  474.  Hardness,  474. 

Form,  474.  Construction.  475. 

Motion,  474. 

O  Wrver  and  Experimenter,  478,  493. 
Officer*  at  Winchester,  34. 
Old-fashioned  Christian  Home,  387. 
Oppidans,  6. 
OppUr,  cited,  544. 
Option  in  Studies,  113,  458,  533. 
Oratory,  Study  of,  290,  358. 
Oibis  Pictus,  Comenius,  223,  227. 

Preface  to  English  Edition,  192. 
Oriaen,  Use  of  Pagan  Poets,  119. 
Organization  for  Instruction,  90, 113. 

Discipline.  106. 
Organized  Knowledge,  477. 
Otterbourne  Mead,  17. 
Outer  World,  Inner  World,  493. 
Overtasking,  Wolsey's  caution,  175. 
Oxford,  Objections  to,  451. 

Estimate  by  Parr,  Johnson,  368. 

Pace,  Letter  to  Colet,  121. 
Paget's  History  of  the  Bible,  31. 
Painting  and  Drawing,  Elyot's  plan,  406. 
Parents  of  Pupils,  140. 

Co-operation  with  Teacher,  140,  314, 319. 
Paper-book  torExamples,  213. 
PARKER,  CHARLES  STUART,  118. 

Cla- sic  Languages,  why  subjects  of  study,118. 
Greek  Language,  118. 

Latin  Language,  119.  [111. 

Greek  Language  in  English  Public  School, 
PARU,  SAMUEL,  365. 

Penal  Legislation  and  Education,  365. 

Education  defined,  365.  [366. 

Industrial  Element  in  Schools  for  the  Poor, 

English  Universities,  367. 
Past,  Knowledge  of  the,  148. 

Enthusiasm  for,  33. 


Pastpn  Letters,  Expenses  at  Eton,  6. 
Patrick,  Bishop,  Gentle  Discipline,  441. 
Patronage  in  Bestowal  of  Scholarship?,  80. 
Paul'n  Accidence,  62. 
PAYNE,  JOSEPH,  465. 

Science  of  Education,  465. 

Art  of  Education,  465. 

Kindetgarten  System,  471. 

Foundation  of  Science-teaching,  477. 
Peal,  First  and  Second  at  W-nchester,  34. 
Pedagogy,  National,  Barnard's,  545. 

American,  546. 

English— List  of  Authors,  546. 

French— Li-t  of  Authors,  546. 

German— List  of  Authors.  546. 

Swiss— List  of  Authors,  546. 
Pedantry,  Defoe's  Idea.  425.  [463. 

Penal  Legislation  and  Popular  Education,  365, 
Penmanship  in  Hoole's  School,  315. 
Pepys,  377. 
Perceptions,  491. 
Pericles,  Phidias,  at  Athens,  460. 
Periodical  Examinations,  93. 
Perkins's  Catechism,  247. 
Personal  Influence.  161. 
Personality  of  the  Teachor,  146,  161. 
PETTY  SCHOOL,  Hoole's  Manual,  195. 

Age,  Alphabet,  Horn  Book,  195. 

Play  with  Ivory  Dice,  Revolving  Wheel,  197. 

Pictorial  Alphabet,  Vowels,  Consonants,  198. 

Ordinary  Mode  with  Reading,  201. 

Earliest  Reading  Books,  202, 

Psalter,  Psalms  in  Meter,  Good  Manners,  202. 

Latin  Accidence,  203. 

How  to  Found,  Teacher,  Discipline,  204. 

Slow-Witted  and  Sensitive  Pupils,  206. 

Management,  206. 
Phtedon  463. 

Philology,  English,  Academy  of,  457. 
Philostratus,  Learning  the  Alphabet,  212. 
Phrasiuncula,  309. 
Physical  Facts,  How  taught,  478. 
Physical  Science.  478. 
Physical  Training  in  Public  Schools,  105. 

Defoe,  428.  Mulcaster,  180,  183. 

Elyot,  408. 

Pictoral  Illustrations,  192,  223. 
Pictorial  Alphabet,  219. 
Pictures,  Value  to  Children,  224. 

First  recoirnition,  224. 
Picturing  out  to  Pupils,  224. 
Piers  Ploughman,  4H3. 
Plato  on  Reading,  212. 
Play,  Spontaneous  Activity,  472. 

Nature's  Education  of  a  Child,  472. 
Play-ground,  Moral  Uses,  516. 

Children's  Language  and  Manners,  176. 
Plays  Pt  rformed  on  Closing  School,  319. 
Plutarch,  436. 

Poor  Scholars  at  Winchester,  24. 
Poole's  English  Accidence,  227,  276. 
POPE,  ALEXANDER,  3*7. 

Dunciad.  Schools  and  Universities,  338. 

Travel— Microscopic  Views  of  Nature,  342. 
Popular  Education  and  Penal  Legislation,  463. 

Social  and  Politii-al  Advancement,  463. 
Popular  Ignorance  and  Kiots,  461. 
Popular  Education  a  National  Duty,  461. 

Ignorance  a  National  Crime,  464. 
Porter,  Noah,  on  American  Education,  512. 
Posers  at  Winchester,  37. 
POSITIONS,  Mulcaster's  Treatise,  180. 

Contents,  180. 

When  Formal  Education  begins,  182. 

Branches  Taught,  183. 

Physical  Exercises,  183. 

Training  College  for  Teachers,  181. 
Possibilities  of  Primary  Schools,  492. 
Poverty,  Condition  of  Scholarships,  87.      [528. 
Practising  School  for  Candidates  for  Teaching, 


604 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW. 


Pnepositors  at  Eton  and  Rngby.  7,  22,  151. 
Praise  and  Rewards  for  Well-doing,  812. 
Prayers  and  Psalm*,  310. 
Prefects  at  Winchester.  21,  34,  45. 
Prefect  of  the  Hall,  4.r,. 
Power  to  Punish  Corporally.  46. 
Prendergast,  Mastery  Svstem,  688. 
Precocious  Scholars,  362,  382. 
Preparation  of  Lessons.  92.  544.  507. 
Primer,  Earliest  English,  208,  216. 

Illustrated,  215,  219. 
Primary  Schools,  Aims  and  Limits— 
Engli-h,  193,  499.  falderwood,  499. 

German,  499.  Donaldson,  488. 

Scotch,  495.  Hoole,  193. 

Proir,  M  ,  Ginger-bread  Alphabet,  217. 
Private  Schools  and  Public,  362,  443. 
Private  Schoo's  and  Teaching.  133,  362. 

R  -ception  and  Exclusion  of  .Pupils,  131. 
Private  Tutor  in  Public  Schools,  44. 
Pr'zes,  Influence  on  Studies,  530. 
Probation  Book  of  Merchant  Taylor's,  9. 
Professional  Training  of  Teachers.  527. 
Donaldson,  484,  493.       Mulcaster.  184. 
Jolly,  527.  Hoole,  298. 

Prusodia,  248. 

Promotion,  Conditions,  44,  90.  92. 
Publicity  to  Good  Methods.  323. 
Punishments,  School,  325,  502. 
Instruments  »ind  Means.  325,  336. 
Apple  twigs,  20.  Horsing.  335. 

Birch.  313.  .       Houp«y-donpsy,  334. 

Boxing  Ears,  329.        Jerking,  313 
Cane.  170.  Pinching.  329. 

Dark  Hole.  333.  Rod,  325.  336. 

Detention,  314.  Strap.  325. 

Ferule,  313.  325.          Tawes,  334. 
Fetters,  333. 

Practice  in  Different  Schools- 
Eton,  328. 

Christ's  Church,  332. 
Merchant  Taylor's,  328. 
Norwich,  330.  St.  Paul,  328. 

Rugby,  330.  153. 170.   Winchester,  46. 
Shrewsbury,  330.         Westminster,  329. 
Views  of  Educators  and  Teachers — 
Arnold,  153.  Johnson,  363. 

Colet,  72.  South,  344. 

Cooper,  325.  Steele,  345. 

Coote,  189.  Taxtor.  327. 

Erasmus,  72.  Wolsey,  175. 

Goldsmith,  35.  Plutarch,  327. 

Hoole,  313  Quintilian,  327,  313. 

Pulpiteers  at,  Winchester.  44. 
Public  Schools  denned,  124,  362. 
General  View  and  Results.  81,  108,  362. 
Compared  with  Private,  362,  349,  443. 
Pnpil'8  Work  in  Les-on*,  469 
Duties  to  the  School  a*  a  Society,  145. 
True  Spirit  and  Aim,  140. 
Power  as  ('ooperators  with  Teacher,  160. 
Order  of  their  Virtues  141. 
Rult  s  for  Behavior,  220. 
Pythagorian  Letter,  339. 

Quick,  R.  H..  537. 

Method  in  Foreign  Language,  537. 

Robertsonian  Method.  537. 

Prendergast  Mastery  System,  688. 

Power  01  Audition,  540. 

Book-work,  541. 

Dictation— Preparation  for  Lessons,  544. 
Quintilian's  Early  Instruction,  213. 

School  Punishments,  313. 
Questioning  of  Scholars  Encouraged,  307,  511. 

Each  other  307,  308. 

Chvs  on  the  Lesson,  226. 

Scholars'  Difficulties  to  be  Discovered,  511. 
Queen  Elizabeth — 

Schools  Founded,  3. 


Queen  Elizabeth— 
Winchester,  20. 
Infandum,  Regina,  etc.,  20. 

Rabelais,  435. 

Rank  of  Pupils  in  Grammar  Sch'ls  ignored,  49. 

Ranleagh,  Lady,  392. 

Ravisiua  Textor,  School  Punishment,  327. 

Dialogues,  445. 

Reading  and  Sneaking.  44.  [92,  224. 

Heal  Objects  in  Teaching  Recognized  in  1658, 
Record-book.  Easy  Use  of,  311. 

Faust's.  312. 
Recorde.  Earliest  English  Arithmetic,  210. 

Cossic  Art,  or  Algebra,  210. 
Recreation,  428. 

Sonthey,  437. 

Wolsey,  175. 

Reference  Books,  Library,  190.  317. 
Refinements  in  Education,  362. 
Reflectiveness,  517. 
Reformation  of  Henry  VIII..  3. 

Destruction  of  Monastic  Schools,  2,  122. 

Institution  of  Grammar  Schools.  3. 
Reforms  in  Public  Schools,  4,  47,  49. 

Arnold.  129. 

Public  School  Commission,  112. 
Register  or  Probation  Book.  9. 
Religion  and  Religious  Instruction,  109. 

Home  Education,  3S9,  391. 

Boarding-schools,  146. 

Day-schools,  524. 

Sunday  Exercises,  389. 

Hoole's  School,  309. 

Arnold's  Practice.  142,  129. 

Rugby  School.  143. 

St.  Mary's,  109. 

St.  Paul's,  79. 

Limits,  144 

Repetition,  Value  of.  467,  589. 
Represt-ion  of  Evil  Tendencies,  518. 
Restriction.  Children  must  Learn,  504. 
Rewards  and  Encouragements,  13,  312,  523. 
Revised  Code,  4H6. 
Rhetoric,  351,  358. 
Richard  Herton,  17. 

Richard  II.  and  Popular  Education,  121. 
Ridine  as  Exercise.  428. 
Rifle  Practice,  Public  Schools,  106. 
Ritter,  Karl,  510. 


Geography  nnd  History,  579. 
Historical 


Map,  570. 
Rivalries  of  School  Life,  521. 
Risks  Connected  with,  521. 
Robertsonian  Method  in  most  Foreign  Lan 

guages,  537. 

Robinson's  Method  in  Reading,  199. 
Rodiad,  George  Coleman,  336. 
Rod  in  Literature,  336. 
Byron,  336.  Goldsmith,  352. 

Butler,  336.  Hood,  336. 

Cooper,  325.  Johnson,  359,  363. 

Crabbe,  328.  Newbury,  336. 

Colemau,  :#6.  Steele,  345. 

Erasmus,  72.  Tusser,  328. 

Rod  in  National  Practice, 
Ancient- 

Jews,  326.  Romans,  325. 

Greeks,  326. 
Modern  — 

English,  337,  345.         French,  327. 
German  503.  Roman,  325. 

Irish,  336.  Suabian,  327. 

Dutch,  326.  Scotch,  333. 

Rod  in  Individual  Practice— 
Busby,  329.  Parr.  330. 

Butler,  330.  Udall,  320. 

James,  330.  Vincent,  329. 

Keate,  332.  Wales,  333. 

Nicol,  333.  Woole,  331. 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW. 


605 


Romance  Reading,  363. 

Rome,  Literature  and  Language,  454. 

Relations  to  Christianity  and  Law,  128. 

Teaching  Alphabet,  213. 

School  Punishments.  325. 
ROBPC,  Qnomologicon  Poeticnm,  308. 
Roscommon,  English  Tongne,  427. 
Roth's  Gymnaeial  Pedagogik,  495. 

Religious  Instruction,  495. 
Rotherham  School,  298.    Methods  of,  320. 

Order  of  Studies  in  1658,  320. 

School  Lectures,  322. 
Rousseau.  School  Life  Attractive,  444. 
Routine  and  Formalism,  212. 
Royal  Visits  to  Public  Schools,  19. 
Rudiments  of  Language,  62. 

Proverbial  dryness.  214. 
RUGBY  SCHOOL,  135-174. 

Origen,  135. 

Prior  and  under  Dr.  Arnold,  136. 

Dr.  Arnold's  Successors,  162. 

Present  Constitution,  163. 

Revenues  and  Governing  Body,  163. 

Head-Masters  and  Assistants,  163. 

Fellowships  for  Life,  164. 

Pupils,  Classes,  Number,  164. 

Classical  School,  165. 

Mathematical  School,  166. 

Modern  Language,  167. 

Natural  Philosophy  School,  167. 

Time  work,  Examination,  168. 

Exhibition,  Scholarship,  Prizes,  169. 

Monitorial  system,  Fagging,  Flogging,  170. 

Sports,  Games,  171. 

Domestic  and  Sanitary  Arrangement,  172. 
Rytwise,  or  Ryghtwyse,  61,  72. 

Sadler,  Elizabeth,  Mrs.  Walker,  385. 

Saints'  Days,  34. 

Salaries  of  School-masters,  348,  525. 

Head-masters,  163.  Motive,  525. 

Assistants,  163. 
Samian  Letter,  339. 
Sanitary  condition  of  Schools,  110. 
Saturday,  440. 

Half -holiday,  35,  302. 

Catechism  Day,  307. 
Savages  and  Civilized  Life,  361. 
Sayes  Court,  House  and  Grounds,  374. 

Domestic  Life,  389. 

Glimpse  of  Visitors,  377. 
Scaliger,  Value  of  Pictures,  224. 
School,  143,  224. 

Comenius,  Lesson  in,  224. 
School,  Architecture,  32. 

Bills,  25,  172.  Books,  208,  317. 

Breaking-up  Day,  319. 
School  Classification,  135. 

Companionship,  146.      Customs,  318. 
School  Discipline,  293,  500. 

Days,  142. 
School  Examinations,  9,  93, 137. 

Endowment,  83. 

Forms  or  Classes,  80,  90. 

Festivals,  171. 
School  Government,  75,  79, 153,  292. 

Games,  171. 
School,  Grades  of, 

Collegiate,  87.  High,  17. 

Dame,  208,  229.  Grammar,  225. 

Endowed,  1.  Petty,  193. 

Free,  11.  Public,  1. 

School  Holidays,  319.  171. 
School  Indolence  and  Perversity,  92. 
School  Library,  Early  suggestion,  315. 
School  Management  153,  521. 

Master,  343,  440,  462.      Monitors,  45. 
School  Nomenclature,  136,  576. 
School  Punishments,  171,311,  325. 
School  Rebellions,  29. 


School  Rebellion?,  29. 

Recollections.  29.        Reforms,  135. 

Recreations,  78, 142. 
School  Sympathy.  146. 
School  Teacher.  464. 

Terms,  71.  111. 
School  Vocabulary,  604. 
Scholar  and  Scholarship,  424,  426. 
Scholars,  in  English  Public  School  471. 

Foundationers,  86.          Oppidans,  5. 

Non-Foundationers*. 86.  Commoners  23 

Collegiate,  24,  40.  Poor, 

Scholarship,  Election  to,  37,  87. 

St.  Paul's,  47.  St.  Mary,  37,  79. 

SCHOLASTIC  DISCIPLINE  in  1653,  Iloole  293 
Schonborn's  Capping-book,  308. 
Science,  defined,  477,  482. 
Science  of  Education,  465. 

Advantage?,  485. 
Science-Teaching,  477. 

Acland,  480.  Kemehead.  480. 

Huxley,  479.  Payne,  477. 

Scientific  Knowledge,  474. 

Training,  480. 
Scobs.  26. 
Scot.  Thomas,  298. 
Scotland  School  Code,  496. 

Severe  Discipline.  333. 

Public  Popular  Education,  463. 
Scriptorium  at  Winchester,  33. 
Scripture?,  323. 
Scriptural  Symbolism,  18. 
Self- Activity.  141.  469. 

Control,  500,  517,  383.    Government,  514 

Education,  437.  Denial,  515,  518 

Respect  of  Pupils,  514. 
Seniority  in  Promotion,  92. 
Senses,  Culture  of,  193,  223,  473. 
Sex,  in  Education,  Defoe,  427. 
Seminary  for  Masters,  in  1582.  184. 
Sentences,  not  Words,in  learning  language  538 
Sententite  Pueriles,  237. 
Servitors  at  Winchester,  36. 
Servants  in  English  Homes,  389. 
Seventh  Chamber,  at  Winchester,  21. 
Shenstone,  Horn  Book,  216. 
Shooting,  with  Bow  or  Gun.  414,  428. 
Sheridan,  Thomas,  Study  of  Rhetoric,  351. 
Shrewsbury  Free  Grammar  School,  11. 

Meaning  of  Free  School  (Libera,Schola),  11. 
Shrove-tide  potation,  319. 
Schrader  Gymnasium  and  Real  School  493 
Scott,  Sir  W.,  on  Gardens,  376. 
Singing.  405,  422. 
Simplicity.  430,  496. 
Sixth  Form  at  Rugby,  136.  150. 

Hoole's  School  in  1661,  290. 
Skill,  Manual,  Elyot,  408. 
Slow  and  Sure,  462,  543. 
Smith,  Adam,  and  Public  Schools,  461. 
Smith,  Sir  Thomas.  415.  [415. 

Advisements  for  Noblemen  and  Counsellors 
Smith,  Sidney,  at  Winchester,  219. 
Socrates,  Thoroughness  with  a  little,  462. 
Southampton  School,  4. 

Solitude  and  Silence  or  a  thoughtful  boy,  442. 
SOUTHEY,  ROBERT,  433-448. 

Home  and  Education  of  Dr.  Dove,  433. 

Ric  ard  Guy,  School-master,  438. 

Kind  School-master  and  Happy  Pupil,  440. 

Methods  of  Teaching  and  Disc  pline,  439. 

Books  and  Reading  one  hundred  years  ago, 
435. 

Risks  of  Public  School,  Home  Education,442. 

Jean  Tixier,  Johannes  Revisius  Textor,  445. 
Gradns  ad  Parnassnm  445. 
Specimen  School  Dialogue,  446. 

Juvenile  Lit.,  Ancient  aud  Modern,  448. 
SOUTH,  ROBERT,  343. 

Discourse  on  Education,  343. 


606 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY — OLD  AND  NEW. 


SOUTH,  ROBERT,  348. 
Jewish  Parents,  School-masters.  343. 
Clergy  in  relation  to  Schools.  844  [344. 

Youth  of  Spirit,  Considerate  in  Punishment, 
Sparing  the  Rod,  Doctrine  of.  209,  336. 
Sparta,  Educational  policy,  366. 
Spoilt  Children.  519. 
Spontaneous  Activity,  472. 
Speiif*ippus,  on  Discipline,  73. 
Sports  and  Pastimes,  38. 
Speaking  or  Declamations,  44. 
Spy-monitor,  333. 

St.  Adrian.  Protector  of  School  boys,  307. 
St.  Louis  of  Fiance,  146. 
ST.  MARY'S  COLUKGE,  at  Winchester,  17-43. 
Origen  and  History,  17. 
Daily  Routine.  Games,  33,  38. 
College,  Endowment,  G  .vernment,  40. 

Governing  Body.  Scholars.  Children,  41. 
School.  Goven  ment.  Boarders.  Ma-ters,  42. 
Six  Courses  of  Study.  Books  or  Forms,  43. 
Boy  Tutors,  Private  Tutors,  Pulpiteers,  44. 
Subject-,  Rending,  History,  Arithmetic,  44. 
French  and  German.  Natural  Science.  44. 
Deviations  fr  m  regular  course,  Work  and 

Plav,  45. 

Fagging,  Punishment,  Monitorial  System, 43 
Chapel  Service,  Boarding-houses,  47. 
Results  of  Teaching,  Modi  neat  ions,  48. 
St.  Paul's  Sch  ol,  London,  59. 
Relations  to  the  Cathedral,  59. 
Method  of  Education  prevalent,  60. 
Foundation  described  by  Erasmus,  61. 
Ovtrsight  left  to  the  Company  of  Mercers,  62 
Lily,  the  first  Master.  62. 
Paul's  Accidence  in  1510,  62. 
Rules  for  the  Admission  of  Scholars,  62. 
Institution  of  a  Christian  Man,  63. 
Prayers  for  the  use  of  St.  Paul's  Schools,  69. 
Master  and  Usher,  62,  71. 
Severity  of  the  Discipline,  73.  [73. 

Erasmus's  Views  o:  Methods  and  Discipline, 
Value  of  Example  and  Conversation.  74. 
Graduates  of  the  School— Masters,  74. 
Existing  State  in  1884.  75. 
Endowments,  Government,  75. 
Ma-tersand  their  S  ipends.  75. 
Scholars  Admitted  on  Nomination,  76. 
Cla-ses,  Promotions.  Exhibitions.  77. 
Prizes  too  Lavish,  Honorarium,  77. 
School-house,  Recreation,  78. 
Discipline — no  fagging,  no  flogging,  78. 
Religious  Observances  and  In-truction,  79. 
School  Terms  and  Holidays,  79. 
Improvements  Recommended,  80. 
Standing-up  Time  at  Winchester,  22,  26. 
Stanley,  Life  of  Arnold,  151. 
Statutes,  School,  17,  85. 

Power  of  Modinca'ions,  85,  112. 
Straw  Beds  at  Winchester,  21. 
STKELE,  SIR  RICHARD.  345. 

Floggim'  in  Publ  c  Schools,  345. 
Stockwood's  Figura  248. 
State  and  Popular  Kducition.  Macaulay,  461. 
Study,  Power,  and  H*bit,  408. 
Stu'lies,  Conflict  of,  529. 
Value  in  Discipline,  529.  533. 
Examination  purposes,  530,  533. 
Lire  purpose.  98,  488. 
Studies  in  Grammir  Schools,  87. 
Ancient.  Ipswich  in  1528,  173. 
Eton  in  1560,  7. 

St.  Mary's  College  in  1570,  20. 
St.  Paul's  Sch  >ol,60. 

Boole's  School  in  ItJfiO,  267.  [87,  95. 

Modern,  the  Seven  Lifgent   Public   Schools, 
Rugby  in  1828  and  1^70,  138. 
St.  Mary's  in  !-»;»;.  45. 
Primary  School  and  Classes,  557. 
Hoole's  Petty  School,  1'.' 


Studies  in  Grammar  Schools,  87. 

Donaldson's  Views  of  the  Public,  488. 
Sturmlus,  Epistles  of  Cicero,  273. 
S'upidity  or  Stubhornnehs,  Incurable,  314. 
Sunday,  Home  Education,  387. 

Hoole's  School,  310,  311. 

St.  Mary's  College,  47. 

Kugby  School,  142. 
Support  of  Schools.  42,  83. 

Endowment,  83,  297.      Charges,  172. 

Tui'ion,  172.  Boarding  Pupils,  298. 

Sureties  for  Good  Behavior.  314. 
>  wearing,  De  oe  m,  427,  436. 
S>lves'er.  Joshua,  435. 
Symbolinn  in  Numbers,  18. 
Sympathy  with  Pupils.  146,  469,  513. 

Moral  Difficulties,  193. 

Studies— Habits  of  Mind,  511. 
Swimming.  School  Training,  36,  106. 

Elyot,  410. 

Tab  e.  Child's  behavior  at,  222. 

Tait,  Bishop,  Head-master  at  Rugby,  162. 

Target  Shooting,  106.  428. 

Substitute  for  Longbow  and  the  Bull,  428. 
Task-*  for  Home  Preparation,  507. 
Taylor,  Jeremv,  377. 
Teachi  r.  Special  Training,  184,  527. 
Teacher  and  Scholar,  Relations.  140,  511. 
Teaching  its  Ends  and  Means,  497. 

Examination  Test, 497. 

Ins; ruction,  498. 

Formation  of  Character,  184,  492. 

Supervision  of  Studies,  499. 

Individual  Success  in  Trade,  488. 

Good  Citizen.-hip,  4?9. 

Highest  Development,  490. 
Teaching,  Requisites  for  success,  500. 

Self -Control.  500. 

Power  of  Eye  and  Voice,  500,  506. 

Power  of  Punishment,  502. 

Sympathy  with  Pupil,  469,  513. 

Exciting  and  Sustaining  Interest,  467,  504. 

Routine  to  be  Avoided,  512. 

Pleasant  Methods,  444. 
Temperance,  Value  of,  349. 
Temple,  Bishop,  162.  468. 

Pupils  helped  too  much,  468. 
Terence,  How  taught,  270. 

Closing  Term  Diversion  319. 
Text  Books,  Early  English,  208,  210. 
T.  H.  Guide  for  the  Child  and  Youth,  219. 

Child's  Promises,  219. 

Illustrated  and  Symbolical  Alphabet.  230. 

Child's  Behavior  from  Morn  to  Night,  324. 

School— Table— Church,  324. 
Tex'or,  Specimen  of  Dialogues,  445. 

Apothegus,  445. 
Thompson,  D  Arcy,  539. 
Thornton,  Spencer.  160. 
Thring,  cited,  507. 
Timb's  School  Days,  5,  215. 
Time  Tables,  506. 
Tiresc  ms  Ways  not  the  best,  540. 
Toasters,  at  Winchester,  31. 
TODHUNTBR,  ISAAC,  529,  536. 

Conflict  of  Studies.  529. 

Prizes  and  Examinations,  530. 

Muthema  ic»,  5il. 

Experimental  Philosophy,  534. 

Func'ion*  of  a  University,  535. 

Competitive  Kx>im  nations,  636. 
Trade,  Education  f, 

Tradescant,  Collection  of  Curiosities.  315. 
Training  College  f..r  T.-.-.chers,  184,  298,527. 
Trainiiu  to  HuM's,  441,  513. 

Comenius  and  Iloole.  198. 
Translations,  128,  283,  352. 
Travel,  355,  851. 

Teachers  to  study  foreign  schools,  184. 


ENGLISH  PEDAGOGY— OLD  AND  NEW. 


607 


Trencher*  of  Wood  at  Winchester,  41. 
Trustees,  Master's  Relations  to,  139. 
Trusty  Servants,  32. 
Truth,  exact,  363. 
Tub,  Prefect  of,  21. 
Tueser.  School  Reminiscences,  328. 
Tntor,  Private,  43,  133. 
Boys,  at  Winchester,  43. 

Udall,  Severe  Disciplinarian,  328. 
Understanding  and  Memory,  193,  507. 
Under  teachers,  299. 
Universal  Education,  Macaulay,  461. 
University,  Functions  of,  535. 

Examination— Teaching— Research,  535. 

Organized  Scientific  Instruction,  535. 

Production  ol  Scientific  Treatises,  536. 

Optional  system,  458. 
University  Chair  of  Education,  527. 
Universities, 

Athens,  458.  London,  150,  457. 

Cambridge,  451.  Edinburgh,  358. 

Oxford,  451.  Leyden,  358. 

University  Education,  estimate  by, 

Goldsmith,  357.  Lowth,  368. 

Johnson,  368.  Macaulay.  451.  458. 

Jones,  368.  Todhunter,  535. 

University  Endowment  and  Bounties,  451,  530 

Force  certain  studies  on  unwilling  minds,451. 

Not  wisely  bestowed,  457. 
Ushers,  Position  and  Duties,  225. 

Goldsmith,  348. 

Hoolc,  225. 
Useful  Knowledge  Era,  529. 

Did  not  reach  Public  School  and  Colleges, 529. 
Usher's  Duty  in  the  Grammar  School,  225. 

The  Youngest  Pupils,  225. 

New  Testament  Accidence,  226. 

Introduction  to  the  Latin  Tongue,  227. 

Use  of  the  Orbis  Pictus.  235. 

Vocabulary,  Sententiae  Puerilis.  237. 

Lord's  Prayer,  Creed,  Christianity,  238. 

Corderius  Colloquies,  240. 

Paper  book  for  ex  tempore  examples,  243. 

Gerard's  Meditations.  Thomas  a  Kempis,  244. 

Latin  into  English,  English  into  Latin,  243. 

^Esop's  Fables,  Janua  Linguarum,  245. 

Helvici  Colloquia.Castalion's  Dialogues,  246. 

Brinslv's  Grammar  School,  247.  1247. 

Saturday,    Assembly's  Catechism,    Perkins, 

Stockwood's  Figura,  Prosodia,  248. 

Cato,  Accidence  reviewed,  Grammar,  249. 

Daily  Routine  for  the  week,  250. 

Specimen  of  a  Lesson  from  ^Esop,  251. 

Dugard's  Probation  Book.  252. 

Analysis  of  Different  Parts  of  Speech,  252. 

Reasons  for  Retaining  Lily's  Grammar,  261. 

Easy  Entrance  to  Latin  Tongue,  262. 

Examinatio  Latinos  Grammatics,  263. 

Du?res,  Sparks,  Cooper's  Dictionary,  264. 

Latin  Authors  read  in  translation,  264. 
Uveldale,  N.,  13. 

Vanity  of  Children,  351. 

Variation-,  in  Prendergast  Method,  537. 

Vechneri  Hellonexia,  v80. 

Verbal  Memorv,  5  >9,  512. 

Verse  Composition,  128,  461. 

Verse  into  Prose,  175. 

Verified  Geography  and  Grammar,  208. 

Rules  of  Arithmetic,  209. 
Vicarius  Whipping,  314. 
Vincent,  Severe  Disciplinarian,  329. 
Virga,  in  Roman  Schools,  3-26. 
Virgil,  a  School-book,  175,  282. 
Virg'l,  cited,  245. 

Virgil,  Polydore.  Account  of  St.  Paul,  60. 
Visible  Knowledge,  505. 
Vitellius  at  Oxfsrd,  50,  61. 
Vitrier,  John,  Franciscan,  57. 


Vivacity  of  Manner,  506. 
Vives,  Ludovicus.  223.  246. 
Vocabulary  made  by  Pupils,  237. 
Vocabulary  of  Children,  539. 
Vocabulary,  Public  Schools. 

Am.  licet  Gate,  26.          Hills,  22. 

Barter  orllalf-vol  I ey,38.  Hostiarius,  18. 

Beer-time,  21.  Impositions.  35. 

Bethesda,  33.  Inlormator,  18. 

Bibling,  20,  330.  Leave  Out,  35. 

Bible  Clerk,  34.  Meads,  28,  35. 

Books,  or  Forms.  22.      Nail,  or  Sconce,  27. 

Borks'  Chamber-.  35.     Olla,  or  Tub,  21. 

Candle-sconce,  27.          Oppidans,  (>. 

Chambers,  44.  Ostrarius,  22. 

Child,  Children,  ,33,41.    Poor  Sclmlars,  24. 

Circmn,  21.  Posers,  87. 

Classicus,  45.  Prittposters .  12,22,151. 

Clean  Straw,  21.     [22.     Pref  cts,  21   45. 

Cloister,  or  Long-half,     Probus  Famulus,  32. 

College  Alarm,  36.          Pulpiteers,  44. 

College  Boys,  24,  40.       Row,  37. 

Commensales.  23.  Skelpins,  334. 

Commoners.  23.  Sands, 39. 

Dalnmtia,  30.  Scobs,  26. 

Disparts,  21.  Scrubbing,  20. 

Divisions,  12,  91.  Servitors,  36. 

Domum  Tree,  39  Seventh      Chamber, 

Drive,  38.  21,  26. 

Duke  Dnmnm,  39.          Socius.  35. 

Edom,  30.  Standing-up,  44. 

Esrg-flip  day,  39.  Toasters,  31. 

Garth,  33.  Toy-time,  35. 

Go-homers,  39.  Valet,  35. 

Half  Fagot,  35.  Vulgu?,  44. 

Hah  Remedies,  34.         Washpot,  30. 
Voice,  Power  of  in  Discipline,  502. 
Voltaire,  cited,  540. 
Voluntary  Restriction,  515. 
Vulgus,  at  Winchester,  44. 

Wales,  W.,  great  flogger,  333. 

Walker,  Mrs  ,  Home  life,  387. 

Waller,  William,  cited.  373. 
i  Wantage,  Earliest  Endowed  School,  2. 
i  Warning,  conveyed  by  the  Eve,  501. 

I  Warming  School-rooms,  at  Winchester,  21. 
Warton,  Joseph,  at  Winchester.  27. 

Encoun'er  with  Dr.  Johnson,  27. 
I  Warton.  Tom.  at  Winchester,  35. 

Warwick,  Tountess  of.  Home-life,  393. 
1  Wase,  C.,  Free  Schools,  190. 
Wayneflete,  William  of,  19. 

Founder  of  Schools,  60. 

Greek  Endowment  in  Magdalen,  60. 
Wealth,  Uses  of  great,  15. 
Webster.  J.,  Academiamm  Examen,  190. 
Weekly  Repetitions,  307. 
Wellington  College.  102. 

Wellington,  Duke.  Opinion  of  Public  Schools.l. 
West,  Francis,  299. 
Wharton's  English  Grammar,  -226. 
Whewell,  W.,  cited,  535. 
White,  John,  Head-master,  19. 
White,  Sir  Thomas,  9. 
Whipping,  336. 

Whvtington,  Degree  in  1513,  60. 
Wilf ulness,  519. 
William,  of  Wayneflete,  19. 
William,  of  Wykeham,  13. 

St.  Mary's,  Winchester,  14. 

St  Mary's,  Oxford.  14. 
Wjll.  Power  of,  504,  515. 
Williams,  Dr.,  31. 
Willow-wands,  discarded,  313. 
Winchester,  Ancient  seat,  of  Learning,  17. 
Winchester,  High  School,  14,  17, 

St.  Mary's  College.  17. 

Model  for  Henry  VI  ,  15. 

History  in  Q,ueen  Elizabeth's  Reign,  21. 


608 


ENGLISH    PEDAGOGY— OLD   AND   NEW. 


Winton  Rod,  20. 

How  made,  330. 

Infandum,  Regina,  etc.,  20. 
Wolf,  F.  A.,  548. 
Woman's  Characteristic  Excellence,  429. 

Old-fashioned  Christian,  887. 
Women,  Education,  122. 

Defoe,  429.  Evelyn,  384. 

Parr,  366.  Macaulay,  463. 

Wolsey.  Thomas,  173. 

Plan  of  Studies,  173. 

Christ  College,  Oxford,  173. 

Importance  of  Masters,  173. 

Parity  of  Morals,  as  well  as  Literature,  174. 

Beating,  deprecated,  175. 

Recreation,  kind  of,  175. 

Studying  made  a  Game,  176. 

Oral  Method  and  Exposition,  176. 

English  Composition.  Correct  Speech,  176. 
Woodward,  Hezekiah,  193.  234. 

Pictorial  Illustrations.  193,  224. 

Light  to  Grammar,  190.  224. 

Gate  to  Sciences,  190,  224. 
Woolwich,  Examination  for,  103. 
Words,  Teaching  of,  339. 

Pope's  exposure,  339. 


Working  Classes,  366,  460. 

Athens,  460. 

Value  of  Knowledge  to,  861. 

Educated  for  a  trade,  48S. 

('iti/enship.  489. 

Development,  490 
World,  Knowledge  of,  191. 
W.  P..  Arithmetical  Views,  209. 
Wrestling.  ISO,  409. 
Writing  Master,  315. 
Writing  School,  315. 
Writing  and  Reading  School,  423. 
Writing  or  Penmanship, 

Hoole,  315.  Taylor,  316. 

Hodder,  315.  Qaintilian,  213. 

Evans,  315. 
Wykeham,  William  of,  13. 

Life-work,  13. 

Lowth's  Character,  15. 

Influence  of  Example,  16. 

Y— Pythagorean  Symbol,  339. 

Pope's  use  of,  339. 
Young  Ladies.  College  in  1660  for,  384. 

Defoe's  Project,  428. 
Youths'  Guide,  by  H.|T.,  219. 


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